My grandmother entered the world in 1939, amidst the chaos of World War II, in a Korea still under Japanese occupation. She grew up surrounded by the sound of fighter aircraft flying overhead, in a rural area without basic amenities like running water and electricity. Her formative years were shaped by war, colonialism, and a constant sense of fear. Concepts like “identity” and “belonging” were foreign to her, as the country underwent constant change.
At the tender age of 19, she married my grandfather, whom she met on her wedding day. Soon after, she welcomed her first child, a son, followed by my mother. In her womb, as my mother developed, the first traces of my DNA began to take shape.
As the matriarch of our family, my grandmother shouldered the responsibility of raising six children while my grandfather battled alcoholism. She took on odd jobs to make ends meet, with support from her in-laws and my mother, the eldest daughter. Eventually, the family saved enough to move to Seoul in search of better opportunities.
While the family relocated, my mother remained behind in the countryside to care for my great-grandparents. She lived in a house without modern conveniences, relying on tasks like chopping firewood for warmth and assisting her grandmother with cooking. Her daily routine included escorting her younger sister to and from school, embodying resilience in the face of adversity.
The generational trauma experienced by my mother and grandmother manifested in their coping mechanisms, shaped by a patriarchal society that demanded female submission for survival. These deeply ingrained survival strategies were unwittingly passed down to me, shaping my own responses before I even took my first breath.
In his book “It Didn’t Start with You,” Mark Wolynn explores how trauma memories are imprinted in our genetic code, influencing the way we navigate life’s challenges. I found myself attuned to my grandmother’s nervous system, seeking solace in her presence and drawing strength from her resilience.
My mother’s relentless work ethic and dedication to providing for our family underscored the importance of productivity and utility in her worldview. While she outwardly longed for retirement, work had become an intrinsic part of her identity. Her experiences shaped my own beliefs about survival in a demanding world.
As I matured, I realized that I wanted to break free from the cycle of stress and busyness that had defined my upbringing. I yearned for a different way of living, one that prioritized self-care and introspection over constant activity. Embracing stillness and learning to say “no” became essential steps on my journey towards healing.
Through somatic therapy and introspection, I began to forge a new relationship with my nervous system. Grateful for its role in safeguarding me, I now seek to expand my capacity for discomfort and uncertainty, rather than fleeing from it. By acknowledging and processing heavy emotions, I allow myself to break free from old patterns and embrace a life guided by curiosity and wonder.
In honoring the resilience of my grandmother, mother, and myself, I celebrate the opportunity to rewrite the narrative of generational trauma. By fostering a sense of peace and self-compassion, I pave the way for a future defined by authenticity and emotional freedom.