Embracing the Past We Can’t Undo – Finding Agency in What We Carry

Hi Friends,

Have you ever thought, “If that had never happened, everything would be different”—or wished you could go back and handle something differently?

Maybe you find yourself thinking about something you never chose: a parent’s divorce, a sudden illness, or an experience that left a mark so deep you’re still uncovering it.
Or maybe you’re wrestling with regret: the way you navigated a past relationship, how reactive you used to be, or the kind of parent, friend, or partner you were before you knew what you know now.

Some things hurt so deeply, or carry so much shame, that it’s easy to get caught in the longing to rewrite the past. But that longing often leaves us trapped with no way to change what happened—and separated from the life that’s still unfolding.

While we can’t go back and rewrite what happened, we can begin to relate to it differently.

That doesn’t mean brushing it aside or pretending it didn’t matter.
And it definitely doesn’t mean rushing to find a silver lining.

In fact, this process asks the opposite: that we feel it, name it, and hold the pain with deep compassion.
But then, when we’re ready—it asks us to begin shifting how we carry it.

For a long time, I didn’t think something that happened to me as a child had really affected me. I had buried the memory so deep, it didn’t even resurface until adulthood. And when it did, my mind tried to minimize it.
It didn’t really hurt me.
It only happened once.
I’m not traumatized…am I?

But over time, I began to notice a pattern: an ache in my chest whenever someone didn’t show up for me in the way I hoped. And beneath that ache, a story: No one was there for me when I needed them most.

It wasn’t the experience itself that followed me for decades—it was the meaning I made of it.
Not because I was weak or dramatic, but because that’s what our nervous system does. It creates meaning to protect us. It builds stories to help us make sense of a world that once felt confusing or overwhelming.

And when those stories begin in childhood, they’re shaped before we’ve developed the capacity to think critically or ask, “Is this even true?”
Instead, we absorb what happens, and we form beliefs around it—not because we’re faulty, but because we’re wired to survive.

For me, the story wasn’t just that no one was there for me—it was that their absence meant something about me. Even though I logically knew I was worthy of love and safety, there was a younger part of me that had attached her sense of worth to that moment. That story became a lens: if someone didn’t show up, it felt like confirmation that I wasn’t lovable.
A big part of healing was adding nuance. Yes, no one was there in that moment—and that’s something I’ve grieved deeply. But it no longer defines my worth. That painful experience may still hold sadness, but it doesn't get to tell the full story of who I am.

As Dr. Gabor Maté explores in The Myth of Normal, “Trauma is not what happens to you, it’s what happens inside you as a result of what happens to you.”

With gentleness, support, and time, we can begin to revisit these stories.
We can acknowledge that what happened wasn't okay—and also begin to shift the meaning it holds in our lives.

None of this is about condoning what happened.
None of it is about rushing healing or pretending we’re “over it.”
It’s about realizing that while we can’t undo the past, we can choose not to keep carrying it in the same way.

That shift doesn’t happen all at once. It unfolds layer by layer—as we gain capacity, as we feel safe enough to go deeper, as we learn to trust that we can hold what once felt unbearable.

This is the power we do have.
This is the agency we can embrace.

For me, that journey started by simply acknowledging the story I had tied to what happened.
Then, it became about wrapping the part of me who learned that story in so much love—without trying to fix her or force her to feel differently.
And over time, I began to notice when that story resurfaced—and instead of judging myself for still feeling the pain, I learned to gently remind myself that I have a choice in what I believe now.

So how do we begin to let the past be—without erasing it, but without letting it define us?
Here are a few gentle possibilities:

• Acknowledge the pain without minimizing it: You don’t have to justify or explain why it affected you. Your experience is valid.

• Get curious about the meaning you attached to what happened: What did it teach you to believe about yourself or the world? Are those beliefs still true?

• Feel the emotions you didn’t get to feel then: Sometimes the healing isn’t in understanding—it’s in grieving what you didn’t receive.

• Speak compassionately to the younger version of you: What did they need to hear? How can you offer it now?

• Choose to write a new story: Not by pretending the old one didn’t happen, but by deciding how much power it gets to hold.

• Reach out for support: You don’t have to do this work alone. A skilled therapist, coach, or trauma-informed guide can walk alongside you.

Some chapters of our lives will never make sense.
Some experiences will never feel fair.
We don’t have to be “over it.”
But even in those places, we can begin to shift how we hold them.

We get to tend to the pain with love.
We get to loosen our grip on the old meanings.
We get to reclaim the story—not by changing what happened, but by changing how we carry it forward.

With heartfelt gratitude,
Christina