I had already inherited its rhythm.
Not as a story told, but as a feeling in my body.
Tension in my jaw.
Fluttering in my chest.
A deep, unnameable need to stay prepared.
In many families, especially across the Caribbean and African diasporas, trauma isn’t passed down in conversation.
It lives in behavior.
In unspoken fears.
In hypervigilance so familiar it feels like personality.
This is the inheritance no one talks about:
The inability to rest without guilt
The tendency to over-function as a form of safety
The panic that arises not from the present, but from memory stored in the body
This is how the body keeps score, even when the mind doesn’t remember.
Modern science is finally catching up to ancestral wisdom. Echoing what our ancestors have always known, that memory lives in the blood.
Epigenetics shows us that trauma can chemically alter gene expression, shaping not only our emotional states but our physiology. Imprinting itself not just in our stories, but in our hormones, our sleep cycles, our children.
Much of what’s labeled as anxiety in diaspora communities is actually inherited hypervigilance. It’s not a disorder. It’s an echo of survival.”
That “high-functioning anxiety”? It may not be yours. It may be your great-grandmother’s silent panic when crossing an ocean without a name.
Symptoms we treat as dysfunction may actually be the sacred codes of survival.
Encoded through:
Cortisol dysregulation
Hyperactive amygdala
Stress-sensitized gene expression
These patterns don’t mean we’re broken.
They mean we’re carrying history.
Yet we still treat them as behavioral flaws.
Traditional psychiatry loves a clear timeline. It wants a tidy cause, a trigger, a pill.
What happened to you?
When did it begin?
How severe is it?
But inherited trauma defies clean timelines. It loops. It lingers. It lies dormant in the body until something, a scent, a season, a silence, awakens it.
When symptoms resist standard treatment, we must ask, are we medicating one person’s pain… or a lineage’s silence?
Is this resistance?
Or is this remembrance?
Is this patient “non-compliant”?
Or are they carrying centuries of survival on their back?
There is a significant pause that is necessary before prescribing.
To explore whether the presenting symptoms are echoes of:
Displacement
Suppressed grief
Intergenerational rage
Survival patterns embedded in DNA
Even when the conscious mind forgets, the brain remembers.
Neuroimaging studies show reduced hippocampal volume and increased amygdala activity in those with complex trauma histories, even when trauma is not consciously recalled.
This explains why so many feel unsafe in safe environments.
Why joy feels foreign.
Why peace feels suspicious.
This is why the healing process must be embodied, and that it isn’t always about retelling the story. Sometimes, it’s about retraining the body.
When trauma lives in the nervous system, we must offer the body new rhythms before we demand the full story.
Try:
Weighted blankets or body wraps
Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) for non-verbal memory release
Vagal nerve activation (humming, breathwork, cold water exposure)
Gentle ritual (e.g., candle lighting, ancestor honoring, movement)
Let the body tell the story, gently, without forcing the words.
Many people carry more than their own stories.
Grandmothers who never cried
Fathers who believed rest was weakness
An uncle exiled for being “too much”
Symptoms are often the aftershock of what wasn’t grieved, spoken, or witnessed.
Ask:
“Who are you carrying?”
“Whose fear are you still obeying?”
“Whose voice do you silence with your achievements?”
“I’m too sensitive.”
→ What did that belief once protect you from?
“I can’t rest.”
→ What were you taught about rest in your family?
“I’m always bracing for something bad.”
→ Who had to sacrifice dreaming so you could survive?
Draw a silhouette.
Map emotional imprints across your lineage.
Name what’s yours. Release what isn’t.
The Ancestor Altar (for the Unnamed)
Gather sacred objects:
A stone for unexpressed grief
A feather for stolen freedom
A candle for all that was never said
Write them a blessing:
What healing do you wish someone you loved had known?
And how can you live it now?
What symptom in your life is actually a memory your body couldn’t digest?
What unspoken rule are you still obeying, without question?
Whose fear are you still protecting?
What would healing look like if it included your grandmother’s silence too?
“This is not just psychiatry. This is ancestral midwifery.
We are birthing new stories from the bones of unspoken ones.
To do this work well is to sit at the sacred crossroads of biology and biography, where the body remembers what the soul tried to forget.