One superpower I learned many years ago, just to survive, was this: whenever something bad happened, I buried it in my memory and acted as if it never happened.
First, I was conditioned to believe that emotions are messy and that having them is shameful. Second, it felt like I couldn’t afford to be weak because I had no one to rely on. Third, I simply didn’t know how to express what I felt.
Now that I’ve found people I can open up to, I’ve realized that I’m not the only one who does this. Perhaps repressed emotions are common among people my age. It was a learned habit.
I’m actually amazed by Gen Z. They are very vocal about how they feel. The world has given them the space to express their sentiments. And yet, sometimes—even I catch myself thinking, “Why is this generation so weak?” But deep inside, what I really mean is, “Thank God, the world is healing.”
I would also like to associate repressed emotions with ancestral trauma. I once had the opportunity to talk to a medical doctor who shared his personal struggles with me. He mentioned that ancestral trauma is now being recognized in the medical field. So perhaps my thoughts aren’t entirely “woo-woo.”
When we talk at home about certain relatives and ancestors, I notice that some of their attitudes and traits also exist in me and in other relatives I know. I also know an adopted child who exhibits criminal behavior despite being raised well by his foster parents. When we looked into his biological background, we found that his real father is currently serving time in prison.
What I’m trying to say is that trauma can be hereditary. Not only do children inherit physical traits and intelligence, but also emotional patterns and ways of processing experiences (and perhaps even karma—but let’s stay grounded for now).
Our ancestors went through immense hardship—war, famine, poverty. Life back then was about survival. They couldn’t afford to break down emotionally. But they were still human, and they experienced pain too. Without the luxury to process their emotions, they learned to repress them.
Now, we live in an era where technology offers convenience, and we have more space to feel. I like to think that if we truly understood the inner worlds of our ancestors, we would see that our emotional struggles today mirror theirs. Every time we heal, we may also be healing something within them.
I can’t help but relate this to astrology. Just a personal observation: most Millennials have Pluto in Scorpio (1983–1995). Scorpio and Pluto both deal with the hidden, the taboo, transformation, and the underworld. So perhaps our generational role is transformation—including facing generational trauma.
I’ve noticed that Millennials began shifting how emotions are expressed and processed. Gen Z, with Pluto in Sagittarius, seems more open, philosophical, and expressive. They continue normalizing emotional honesty in ways that Millennials started.
Anyway, back to generational trauma. I recently watched Another Self on Netflix—I’ve really grown to love Turkish series and films. The story follows three best friends who meet a healer who helps them uncover and heal patterns rooted in their ancestry. The show explores Family Constellation Therapy. While the series portrays healing as instant, in reality, it takes years. Real healing always takes time.
One healing practice I often emphasize is meditation. When practiced consistently, old wounds begin to resurface—not just in the body, but also in one’s external reality. Some call this “purging.” The energy of old wounds can attract similar energies in others, leading to conflict. If you’re aware, you begin to see these moments as opportunities for healing.
Serving in a meditation center is very different from simply attending a course. I don’t feel ready to serve again yet. Facing my own shadows—often mirrored through others—is never easy.
True healing doesn’t begin as “love and light”… at least not right away. It starts by confronting your shadow. It’s a misconception that meditation will make someone saintly in a short time. In fact, people can seem “meaner” at first—because they’re learning to set boundaries, express themselves, and protect their peace. Only after establishing a strong sense of self does that “love and light” begin to emerge.
Meditation also helps integrate memories, piece by piece. As I mentioned earlier, I used to bury painful memories. But their emotional weight stayed in my heart. Years ago, I felt that my heart center was deeply blocked. Now, as these memories resurface, I finally have the chance to face them.
It was never easy to feel again what had happened decade ago especially at night. How I wish I stand-up for myself. How I wish I didn’t succumb to manipulation. How confused I was. How unsafe I felt. How I cannot trust my environment. How I didn’t know where to place myself because I didn’t know who my true friends are. How destiny made fun of my emotions. I never took action. I never even dare to ask. I never wanted to put myself to shame. I never allowed myself to be messy when I was younger thinking that time is a healer. But it was not. Until it is dealt.
Memories that resurface are memories ready to be healed.
I remember a healing session I attended years ago during a retreat. Before the activity, everyone was laughing and joking. Someone mentioned that the next session was “Healing of Memories,” and asked jokingly if anyone would cry. One participant laughed it off confidently.
But during the session, as the facilitator guided us through different stages of life—college, high school, childhood—the emotions intensified. That same participant ended up crying the hardest, especially when the facilitator reached his early childhood years.
Afterward, we all felt lighter, as if a burden had been lifted.
Over time, I’ve experienced various healing modalities—meditation, energy healing, plant medicines, and other practices. Each one touched different layers of wounds. I’ve come to believe that everything unfolds at the right time. The mind is incredibly wise—it reveals what we’re ready to face and hides what we’re not.
We think we know ourselves—until deeper parts of us surface. We think we’re okay because we function daily. Some might see me as deeply wounded. And yes, I am—but I believe many of us are.
The difference is, I’ve been exposed to practices that continuously reveal hidden parts of myself, which led me to explore self-awareness more deeply and write about it. I’ve never been satisfied with surface-level understanding.
Some people are often called generational trauma healers—sensitive souls who feel called to break cycles. The trauma ends with them. They process what their ancestors could not. That’s why some people seem deeply emotional even from a young age. Life then presents situations that bring those emotions to the surface for healing. Emotions carry energy—e-motion, energy in motion. These energies can be inherited and often attract similar energies in others until they are acknowledged and resolved.
Enough of my reflections.
How are you, by the way?
–G.A.
—G.A.