Go Back to the First Time: Healing Through the Body’s Memory

If you’re on a path of self-discovery and healing, one of the most profound practices I can recommend is this: the next time you’re triggered — by an emotion, a repeating pattern, a physical sensation, or a story you can’t seem to let go of — pause and ask yourself:

“When was the first time I felt this way?”

It’s a deceptively simple question, but one that can open deep doorways into healing. Start with what’s happening now, then trace it back. Maybe you’ll land on a memory from last year… or maybe you’ll travel further, into childhood or even infancy. Don’t rush it. Let the body lead.

When that memory comes — big or small — immerse yourself in it. Where were you? Who was there? What was happening in your life? What did it feel like in your body? Recreate the moment in as much detail as you can. Speak it out loud. If you have someone safe to hold space for you — a therapist, a coach, a friend — bring them in. If not, record yourself with compassion and without judgment.

This practice recently revealed something unexpected for me.

I’d been feeling this undercurrent of dread about an upcoming trip with my father — a voyage across the Atlantic on the Queen Mary 2. At first, I thought the anxiety was about sailing. Years ago, I crossed the ocean in a 48-foot yacht and hit a mid-ocean squall. It was terrifying, traumatizing, and left a mark. But the QM2 is a massive, solid ocean liner. So why the fear?

Then I remembered: I’d crossed the Atlantic once before, as a child of six, aboard the SS United States. All my memories of that trip had always been good… until I thought of the cabin. It was an inside cabin, pitch black. Not a single point of light. My grandmother, my sister, and I were in that room — and I was terrified of the dark as a child. The monster in the closet, under the bed — I needed the closet door shut, the nightlight on. That darkness had left a deep imprint.

And even though I’ve done so much work around fear, even though I now love the dark and even hike in it, there was something still stuck. Something from that six-year-old self.

As I spoke about it with a friend, I felt this wave of dread rise up — like a heavy mass in my belly and chest. I instinctively moved my hands over my body: from my navel, down and around into my pelvis, then up through my core and out through my shoulders. I could feel the weight moving. I stood, repeated the gesture a number of times, let my body express it, and cried. And then — relief. A somatic release of something that had been lingering in my system for decades.

And the next day, I felt lighter.

This is why it’s so important to go back to the root. Even if you think you’ve done the work — if you’re still being triggered, there’s still something to be seen, felt, or released. The body holds all the answers. And often, when we meet it with curiosity and care, the release is simple. Not always easy — but simple. It wants to move. It wants to heal.

Now, I’m still exploring the layers of this. The original fear may not have been just about the dark. It may have been about my father — who was there when I was six, and who will be with me now, at ninety. I’m asking: what is the emotional mantle I carry for him? What ancestral energy am I holding that isn’t mine to keep?

The dread wasn’t just fear of an ocean or a cabin. It was a signal — one that led me to release a big block and uncover more truth. And that has given me energy, clarity, and a deepened sense of self-trust.

So I encourage you: go back. Ask when it started. Feel it in your body. And trust what arises.

And if you’d like guidance in doing this work, I’d be honored to support you. Send me a message or book a call.

We’re not meant to carry it all alone. But we are meant to heal.