When Old Wounds Meet New Pain

There are moments in life that don’t just hurt—they echo the pain of the past.

Yesterday, I sat in a veterinary office and heard the word cancer.
And in an instant, I wasn’t just there with my dog—I was pulled backward through time.

Back to sitting in a hospital room with my son.
Back to being seven months pregnant, saying goodbye to our family dog, Mayes.
Back to versions of myself who were overwhelmed, heartbroken, and trying to hold it together.

This is what we don’t always talk about:
When new pain arrives, it often brings old pain with it.

That’s what a trigger is. Not weakness. Not overreaction.
Just your body remembering what your heart has already survived.

And yet—something was different this time.

Not because the situation was easier.
But because I had more tools.

What Post-Traumatic Growth Really Looks Like

We often think of healing as “moving on.”
But in reality, healing looks more like carrying forward—with more awareness, more intention, and more capacity.

Psychologists refer to this as post-traumatic growth—the positive psychological changes that can happen after experiencing adversity. It doesn’t erase pain. It transforms how we move through it.

If you want to explore this more deeply, the work of psychologists Richard Tedeschi and Lawrence Calhoun is foundational.

For me, growth looked like this in real time:

I noticed the trigger instead of being consumed by it.
I paused instead of panicking.
I chose how to respond instead of reacting automatically.

That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
It just means I wasn’t powerless inside the pain.

The Tools That Carried Me Through

If you are walking through a difficult season—whether it’s illness, loss, uncertainty, or deep emotional overwhelm—I want to share what helped me in the moment.

1. Regulate Your Body First

Before you try to “think clearly,” help your body feel safe.

In that exam room, I used box breathing—a simple technique where you inhale for four counts, hold for four, exhale for four, and hold again for four.

This type of breathing activates your parasympathetic nervous system, helping reduce anxiety and bring your body out of fight-or-flight mode.

It sounds simple—but in moments of shock, simple is powerful.

2. Let the Emotion Move Through You

I cried.

Not politely. Not quietly. Not “holding it together.”

I let the sadness come.

So many of us—especially as women, mothers, and leaders—have learned to suppress our emotions so we can function. But unprocessed emotions don’t disappear. They stay stored in the body.

Allowing yourself to feel is not falling apart.
It’s allowing your nervous system to complete the stress cycle.

If this idea resonates, I highly recommend the research from Emily and Amelia Nagoski on completing the stress cycle.

3. Shift from Panic to Purpose

Once I gave myself space to breathe and feel, I asked questions.

What do we need to know?
What decisions will we need to make?
What does the next step look like?

Trauma can make us feel stuck and powerless.
Questions bring us back into movement.

They don’t solve everything—but they create a path forward.

4. Create Space to Process Before You Speak

The drive home mattered.

I didn’t rush to call everyone.
I didn’t distract myself.

I gave myself time to process what had just happened and think intentionally about how I would talk to my children.

As caregivers, we are often translators of hard things.
And the way we show up in those conversations matters.

Taking even 10–15 minutes to regulate and reflect can change everything about how we communicate.

5. Lead with Calm, Age-Appropriate Honesty

When I talked to my boys, I was honest—but grounded.

Not overwhelming.
Not dismissive.
Just present.

Children don’t need us to have all the answers.
They need us to be emotionally steady enough to help them feel safe.

If you’re navigating hard conversations with kids, the American Academy of Pediatrics offers helpful guidance.

The Quiet Truth: These Tools Were Learned

None of this came naturally.

Every single one of these responses was learned—through therapy, through reflection, and through choosing, again and again, to invest in my own healing.

There were seasons in my life where I didn’t have these tools.
Where triggers took over.
Where I felt consumed instead of grounded.

Returning to therapy—at different points in my life—gave me language, awareness, and practices that I could access when I needed them most.

Not because life stopped being hard.
But because I became more equipped to move through it.

If you are considering therapy or additional support, Psychology Today offers a searchable directory to find licensed professionals in your area.