Karma is… Healing from Generational Trauma

I took a different route for my morning walk today. Although I wasn’t in the mood, Karma still stopped me in my tracks. Healing from generational trauma often happens in unexpected moments like this.

“What?” I paused my podcast and slowed to a stop. I didn’t want to be rude, but I wasn’t really in the mood to be super friendly either.

“Isn’t this beautiful?!” She looked me straight in the eyes and then turned her gaze to the ocean as she repeated, “Beautiful.”

“It really is,” I agreed, following her gaze.

She continued talking about the beauty of the beach while I stood still, listening, smiling, and feeling curious. Something compelled me to stop and be present with this woman at that moment. Then, just before we parted, I received my gift—the reason I felt the pull to stop and engage.

She looked me in the eyes and said, “You are so beautiful. You have a kind and humble heart; I can tell.”

I placed my left hand on my chest and replied, “Thank you very much.”

Then, I walked away.

Karma is such a good friend to vibe with.

Letting Go and Healing from Family Trauma

I have let go of so much recently: our Toyota 4Runner, most of our furniture, friendships, invisible family strings, and many more things not worth mentioning here. Although this process is not easy, it’s essential for healing and freedom from generational trauma.

For a long time, I stressed about how the family I grew up with (The Others) would react to my writing. Even though it feels like a distant memory, that concern is still present. Publishing this blog post is my first real step toward living out my chosen purpose, regardless of what The Others might say.

This feels like new territory, and I’m so happy to be here.

I feel crazy to try and filter my personal life stories through any lens other than my own. Yet, this is what The Others demand of me.

The idea that sharing my stories is shameful has persisted for over a decade.

This narrative began many years ago when my mother emailed me to express how embarrassed she felt for me. Ironically, I felt the same way about her, though I would never tell her.

Then, tensions escalated when my little brother threatened legal action against me because of my blogging. Fast forward to very recently, and I received a cease-and-desist letter for writing this blog post you are reading right now.

Now we’ve arrived at the point where I feel the need to defend myself.

I can hear my Life Coach/therapist in my head saying, “Nope. This is your story to tell, and you have every right to tell it.” Believing this feels hard for me.

Embracing Healing from Generational Wounds

Throughout my entire adult life, I believed what others communicated to me about myself as a young person. Now that I’m coming out of that generational trauma and practicing believing new, positive things about who I am, I feel renewed. For so long, I allowed those voices to dictate my own voice. They almost snuffed me out. Almost.

My saving grace? Counseling, therapy, and The Body Keeps the Score.

I began faith-based counseling during a period when I cried all the time for seemingly no logical reason. It turns out I had a lot of untapped traumas related to my family, my marriage, and my upbringing. Shelly, my first counselor, introduced me to Caroline Leaf’s work on the brain and helped me start establishing healthy boundaries between me and The Others. After working with her for a few years, I sought therapy, specifically EMDR.

As a result, I finally feel happy with who I am today. This process of healing from generational trauma has allowed me to rediscover my true self.

And I’m thrilled with who I am becoming.

Healing and Embracing My True Self

Most of my life, I identified as the black sheep of The Others. As the firstborn, I fulfilled my duties of pushing every boundary and breaking every rule I felt comfortable with. The church would refer to my behavior as “rebellious.”

For me, I wanted what every teenager wants: love.

While my father provided more than enough financial stability, he struggled to connect with his kids. To be fair, it’s hard to connect with someone who travels more than they’re home and who doesn’t pay attention when they finally are home.

My current era is all about realizing who I am, accepting this as true, and then learning to live my life in a way that reflects these inherent truths about myself. The healing process from past traumas, particularly those handed down through generations, has been transformative.

Last week, my Life Coach spent time telling me I am a good person. She said I’ve done everything and more to reconcile with The Others, I’m not inherently wrong, and I am not the problem. In those moments, I had a choice: believe the mental health expert or continue to believe the toxic narratives running rent-free in my head for so many years.

I realized Mr. Sexy is the only person who consistently tells me these same things: I’m a good person, kind, and humble. However, hearing someone else say these things hits differently. It’s like I might actually be a good person. Could that be possible? Maybe I do have a beautiful, humble heart.

My Great Escape

Very early in our relationship, Mr. Sexy told me that so much dirt covered my heart, the essence of who I am, making it difficult to see. Yet he always saw through the muck. Whenever I hit a new low, he reminded me of my goodness. Even so, I struggled to believe him and understand what goodness he constantly saw in me. Now that I can look back, I can sort of see what he saw. He helped me heal by telling me over and over again that I’m a good person.

So, I choose to believe my Life Coach, Mr. Sexy, the woman from my walk, and Source. I no longer entertain the archaic notion that I’m the problem. I most definitely am not. For too long, I allowed the broken actions of others to control me. My writing can be a perfect example. But now, I’m taking it all back. I will use my voice, even when it shakes. I think I know who I am now. I might even believe in myself.

Healing makes the stuck and broken feel angry. I can say this because I experienced it with The Others. Who I am started to show, and it made some people uncomfortable. The more I healed from these generational wounds, the more I saw the truth of who I am.

The more healing I do, the more of me the world gets to see.

What a beautiful thing.

The more healing I do, the more layers of dirt come off.

I think I am finally clean.

Well, almost. I still need to do some healing work with a therapist. But I think that work will be less about The Others and more about the family I am creating today.

I don’t have enough words to express how good this move to Long Beach feels for us. For me. Now, some will say we ran away from something. But actually, we made Our Great Escape.

We got stuck in that old farmhouse in that little college town. Past traumas followed us around like lost puppies. For instance, every day, I walked by the picture covering the hole Mr. Sexy made in the wall. Late at night, I could still see him and Evan fighting in the dining room over homework. Everywhere in my world, a trauma attached to it. So, we had to leave. We had to get out. We had to attempt an escape.

Here’s the reality, we weren’t succeeding in Pullman. We found ourselves living a poverty lifestyle, and no matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t find work that paid enough to get us out. On top of that, Mr. Sexy started working through his childhood trauma, PTSD from the military, and his abusive ex-wife.

Things reached a point where I could sense the uncertainty of Mr. Sexy’s future. With my expanded understanding of mental health, I now have so much more compassion and understanding. So, suffice it to say, if Mr. Sexy hadn’t come home one day, I would have understood, though devastated.

This journey to healing from generational trauma feels like hell on wheels.

I knew we needed to leave that old farmhouse years ago, but I had no idea how. All I knew was our collective family misery. This sounds ridiculous to share, but I would walk around our Pullman home actively hating it. Some days, I didn’t know what else to do other than yell at the empty rooms.

We needed a new life.

This mindset led us, long story short, to Long Beach. And I’m so grateful to be creating a brand-new life here, continuing the process of healing from generational trauma and embracing the freedom it brings.