3 signs you're carrying past trauma

Dear wonderful humans!

Sometimes, healing doesn't look like crying on the bathroom floor.

Sometimes, healing looks like realising you've been holding your breath for 18 years and didn't know it.

It's the quiet moment after a conversation when you notice,

"Oh, I didn't get triggered that time."

It's the small voice that whispers,

"What if I don't have to prove myself anymore?"

And it's the moment in coaching where someone looks up, surprised, and says:

"I thought that belief was just… part of who I am. But I can let it go, can't I?"

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the things we carry.

The invisible rules, roles, and reactions shaped by our past don't have to shape our future.

Sometimes, we carry a feeling for so long that it starts to look like a personality trait.

We say things like:

"I'm just not very confident in groups."

"I'm a bit of a perfectionist."

"I get nervous making calls."

"I overdo it because I care."

But what if it's none of those things? What if it's a four-year-old version of you, quietly shaping your adult decisions, still waiting to belong, to feel seen, to feel safe? What if it’s a past trauma, an old emotional wound that a part of you is still holding onto today?

I'll never forget a moment when we were travelling; I overheard a family describe their two young sons, just two years apart, as "the angel child" and "the devil child." They laughed as they said it, but the words lingered.

Sure enough, the one described as the angel sat quietly, reading a book and smiling. The other ran wildly around the campsite, acting up to his name,  chaos in a tiny pair of shoes.

It struck something profound in me. A quiet realisation: these are the moments where imprints begin.

How easily do we say,

"She's just like me… always bossy."

"He's the loud one in the family."

"She's shy, just like Grandma."

"He's the troublemaker."

We pass it off as an innocent observation, a lighthearted comment on personality. But these phrases stick. They become an identity. They shape the internal voice a child grows up with. They form the filters we spend decades trying to unpick.

Now, when I talk about my daughter Amelia, I stop myself. I no longer say, "She's just like me," because she's not. She's her own story, her expression. She doesn't need to wear my history as a hand-me-down.

Because I know what it's like to grow up with old beliefs and identities as "the sensible one," "the reliable one," "the dork," and "the girl who wasn't cool at school." And I also know what it takes to unlearn it.

Over the past few weeks, I've had the privilege of holding space for women who realised:

They were still proving themselves, decades later, because a younger self believed they had to earn love through their efforts.

They were over-delivering at work because, somewhere deep inside, they still wanted a gold star from someone who never gave it.

They avoided praise and felt discomfort in their success because they were raised to be criticised, not celebrated.

So, how do you know if you're carrying past trauma?

Dr Gabor Maté explains that trauma isn't what happens to you; it's what happens inside you as a result. It's the disconnection from self. The belief that something is wrong with me.

You might notice it in:

• Recurring patterns, especially in work, love, or parenting.

• An intense reaction that feels bigger than the moment.

• It's a quiet shame you can't quite explain.

• Chronic people-pleasing, overworking, perfectionism, or numbing.

As Martha Beck writes, "The body never lies."

If you're feeling tight, small, drained or disconnected, that's your nervous system waving a flag, so listen to it. 

How do you begin to release the block?

Name the pattern: "This isn't who I am and what I learned through the years."

Track the origin: Whose voice is this? When did I first start believing this?

Offer compassion: Imagine yourself at that age. What did she need and never received? 

Restore the resource: Give her the love, trust, or freedom she was missing. In coaching, we achieve this through my Matrix Therapy practice, utilising language, imagery, and anchoring, and it's powerful.

Come back to the body: feel the new resources flood back and transform.

Healing isn't loud. It's not a grand ceremony or an overnight transformation. It's subtle.

It's a woman logging off at 6 pm and saying, "No more unpaid overtime."

It's a mother hearing a compliment and choosing to believe it.

It's a leader recognising that rejection is an old belief wrapped up in fear and has decided to say, "Not today!"

It's remembering that your worthiness was never someone else's to give.

So, if you catch yourself in a familiar pattern this week: freezing, overworking, people-pleasing, maybe take a second and ask yourself: 

What part of me is still waiting to be seen? 

And what can I give her that she never got back then?

There's a word I've carried with me since the very first time I watched Eat Pray Love, a film I return to often when I need space to breathe. It's an Italian word: Attraversiamo. It means to cross over.

And it's the only word I can think of when I watch a client reclaim something they thought was lost forever:  their trust, their joy, their voice, their self-worth. You can see it in their face. The tension lifts. The lines soften. The light comes back.

They don't become someone new. They let go of the past and come back home to themselves, whole, complete, and seen.

They cross over, reclaiming who they were always meant to be.

Attraversiamo.

May that be your word this week.

With love,

Vikki x