How Past Trauma Shapes Our Present

It can be surprisingly difficult to recognize our own shadows. We all develop ways of moving through the world that help us feel safe. They become so automatic that we rarely question them. We stay busy, fix problems, search for solutions, and keep moving forward, often without realizing that underneath all of that activity is an attempt to avoid feeling something painful.

This month, I found myself caught in that loop.

We recently bought a new house. It’s a beautiful property not far from our current home with three acres, a pond, and a stretch of riverfront. The house itself is large, almost 4,000 square feet. Our dream is to transform it into a retreat center and a welcoming space to host classes and gatherings for the local community.

The property, however, has not been updated since 1977. Along with that comes years of deferred maintenance and the need for a complete interior renovation. But it’s well built and, as they say, “has good bones.”

The story of how we came about the house is probably a story for another day, as it was honestly one of the most synchronistic experiences of my life. We weren’t searching for a property. The Universe really seemed to place this opportunity right in front of us, and I’ll share that story in another blog post.

That being said, everything happened quickly, and I didn’t have much time to process what was unfolding.

Our current family home is quite different. It’s in a residential neighborhood, built in 2001, and over the years we’ve truly made it our own. We moved in when my son was only ten months old, and we brought my daughter home to this house after she was born. It has been the backdrop for birthdays, holidays, movie nights, and so many other treasured memories.

My first thought through all of this was that I didn’t want to move because I didn’t want to uproot the kids from their childhood home and cause them distress. A change of location could potentially lead to heartache on their part, and I didn’t want to be the one responsible for causing that pain.

But whose pain am I really avoiding here? Mine, or my children’s?

Sometimes it takes me a while to recognize what’s trying to peak up from my own shadows. As I sat with these feelings, I slowly realized that some old wounds were being stirred up. Life was presenting me with an opportunity to acknowledge them so I could move forward from a place of love rather than fear.

When I was almost thirteen years old, about the same age my son is now, my family suddenly moved from upstate New York to Massachusetts. It happened quickly and with very little warning. In fact, my mom packed up and left before my seventh-grade school year had even finished. She dropped me off at a friend’s apartment, and I remember watching her drive away.

I was alone and terrified.

The woman she left me with didn’t have children and treated me more like a roommate than a child she was responsible for. I slept on a futon in her living room. I had to figure out how to get myself to and from school each day and make sure I had something to eat.

To make matters worse, a girl at school decided I would be an easy target. On my walk home, she would come up behind me, call me names, and shove me from behind as I walked home. I remember running back to the apartment in tears, feeling completely alone.

There was no one to protect me, and the world suddenly felt so unsafe. Somewhere along the way, I began to associate change and moving with fear, abandonment, and uncertainty.

The stories we tell ourselves about the world are often shaped by our experiences. Trauma has a way of coloring the lens through which we see life, much like wearing a pair of tinted glasses. Over time, we forget we’re even wearing them and begin to believe that what we’re seeing is simply the way the world is. This is how trauma shapes us. Until we begin to question those old beliefs and open ourselves to seeing life differently, we’ll continue to interpret the present through the experiences of our past. But when we become aware of that lens, we have the opportunity to take those glasses off and see the world from a new perspective.

For me, I had come to believe that I needed to keep a safe, stable home or bad things would happen. The more predictable everything remained, the safer I felt. Any sudden shift in plans or environment triggered a fear-based response. Without realizing it, I was projecting that fear onto my children. Instead of imagining them making new memories and enjoying a new adventure, I was imagining them experiencing the same fear and hardship that I had.

In some ways, keeping my own life consistent meant keeping myself safe, but it also meant keeping my world small. Right now, life is asking me to expand beyond that old belief, to step into the unknown, and to trust that change doesn’t always lead to suffering. Sometimes it leads us exactly where we’re meant to be.

As I reflected on all of this, I realized I wasn’t responding to the move itself. I was responding to a younger version of me who still believed that change wasn’t safe. Bringing awareness to that fear didn’t make it disappear overnight, but it helped me separate my past from my present. I made space for the emotions that wanted to be felt and lovingly let them go. I reminded my younger self that she is no longer that frightened thirteen-year-old girl. We are safe now, and we can handle all the changes that come our way.

My children have had a very different experience growing up than I did. They have parents who are present, who love them deeply, and who will walk beside them through this transition. My story doesn’t have to become their story. This move has the potential to become one of their favorite childhood memories instead of one of their hardest.

It makes me wonder where else in my life I might still be seeing through old lenses. And I wonder if the same is true for you. Where in your life is there an opportunity to meet a hurt part of yourself with love instead of fear? Sometimes the situations that challenge us aren’t the problem at all. They’re simply shining a light on the parts of ourselves that are ready to be seen, understood, and healed.

Love and blessings on your healing path,

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