The Holidays Require Special Skills

I’m giving a free workshop next week, ‘Trauma Skills for Better Relationships’. Sign up here.

One of the hardest things about the holidays is how they bring up memories from the past. For those of us with developmental trauma from things that happened — or didn't happen — in our childhoods, this can be particularly challenging.

Many people have happy memories of festive family gatherings — the warmth of traditions and the glow of feeling well-loved.

But for those of us who experienced emotional neglect and developmental trauma in childhood, instead we have feelings of emptiness and despair.

When the holidays come around, we might not feel much of anything — an outdated coping mechanism that protects us from disappointment.

We might notice a foreboding hypervigilance, like something terrible yet unspecified is about to happen.

Or we might not remember the holidays of our childhood, another coping mechanism that keeps us from feeling the pain of the past.  

If we grew up in an environment where our material needs were provided for but our emotional needs weren't met, we've probably learned to dismiss our feelings. 

We might tell ourselves that we were lucky to have what we did, and that the emotional connection and care we longed for as children wasn't important.

Yet saying "My parents did the best they could with what they had," can mask a deep grief for what our caregivers didn't provide — for the unconditional love, acceptance, and nurturing that were missing in our childhoods.

I want to acknowledge that when our parents didn't meet our emotional needs as children — needs we now know are just as essential as food, shelter, and clothing — it is usually because they didn't have those needs met in childhood either.

When we look at our families’ intergenerational dynamics, we often see that our parents did exponentially better at providing for emotional needs than their own parents did. While we might feel grateful for that, it doesn't take the trauma away.

The emptiness left by a lack of connection with our caregivers in childhood cannot be countered by logic or the detached insistence that our parents "did the best they could."

Childhood trauma cannot be reasoned with. It can only be felt and loved back to health.

The pain of these memories often comes flooding back around the holidays, when images of happy families and smiling children are everywhere. It's easy to feel trapped in an emotional flashback of loneliness and despair by a social media post, a scene in a movie, or even the scent of familiar traditional food or the melody of a song.

And when our nervous systems activate around childhood trauma, the youngest and most wounded parts of us emerge into our awareness, threatening to overwhelm us if we haven't healed.

Quite a few years back, I spent the holidays with a full house of extended family. I hadn't explored somatic trauma resolution yet and I was still carrying pain from my childhood that was easily activated by family dynamics.

When the familiar patterns of neglect and rage showed up, it was like I became seven years old.

My body froze.

My throat felt so heavy I couldn’t get words out.

The only way I knew how to cope was by shutting myself in the guest room closet, crying into a stack of pillows. I felt furious at myself for still being wounded by the same old patterns. And terrified that someone would hear me sobbing so hard I could barely breathe.

I felt like a vulnerable child in my adult body, inconsolable. Years of talk therapy hadn't made a dent in my family’s ability to activate that part of me. I had clarity about the relationship dynamics and the patterns, but the awareness did nothing to stop the pain.

My partner was confused by how deeply I was taking to heart the same experiences I’d been through so many times before. And his confusion only made me feel more isolated and alone.

What I needed was a way to hold myself through the intensity that was arising in my body. 

I needed somatic trauma skills to be able to navigate the emotional flashbacks and intrusive memories from the past without losing my center and “becoming” that little girl again. 

I also needed a way to communicate to my partner that I was in a trauma response, so he could support me.

Over the years, I've made quantum leaps in my healing that I never thought would be possible. I put skills and tools into practice that transformed my inner life — and then my outer one.

Now, family gatherings may leave me feeling tired — sometimes exhausted — but still self-confident and composed.

I've learned how to treat myself with unconditional love and understanding. And when I do feel activated, I know how to take care of myself.

I no longer get lost in the grief and overwhelm of unhealthy family dynamics. Their patterns haven't changed — I have.

This holiday season, I want you to have trauma navigation skills when you need them.

That’s why I want to invite you to the free workshop I'm teaching, ‘Trauma Skills for Better Relationships.’

I'll cover everything you’ll need to put essential somatic trauma skills into action, just in time for the holidays.

Learning these skills can transform how you navigate the holidays and help your partner understand what you're going through so they can support you. 

Instead of trying to hide what's going on, you’ll be ready to ask for support with whatever is coming up. And when you do, your relationship will get even stronger.

Sign up here for my free workshop, put the skills I’ll teach you into action, and experience more love and authenticity in your relationship over the holidays.

Because healing is possible, and it's closer than you think.