Autumn: Hey everyone, welcome! Today we’re diving into something really interesting, something a lot of us deal with without even realizing it: the long-term effects of trauma… that isn't even ours in the first place! You know, ever have a fear or some kind of emotional block, or like, just this nagging thought, and you're just like, "Where did this even come from?" Well, what if it's not just your story, but something that was written generations before you? Rachel: Okay, wait a minute. So are you seriously saying that my anxiety about the future might not even be mine? Fantastic, so now I'm inheriting family heirlooms and unresolved stress? What a steal. Autumn: Precisely, Rachel! So, the book we're talking about today, It Didn't Start With You, takes us on this incredible journey through neuroscience and psychology and epigenetics, you know, to show us how unresolved trauma in our families can actually get passed down. It shapes our behaviors, our fears, and even our emotional patterns. Rachel: Alright, alright, slow down. How on earth do we even begin to figure out what's been passed down? Do I need to dust off the old family tree? Threaten grandma with a polygraph to get the goods? Autumn: <Laughs> No, nothing that drastic. The author actually introduces this fascinating tool, it's called the Core Language Approach. It helps you tap into these, like, repetitive fears, phrases, emotions, things that act like breadcrumbs, and they lead you to these hidden wounds in your family history. And the best part? The book doesn’t just stop at awareness – it gives you practical tools and exercises to actually heal, so you can finally break free from, you know, these inherited patterns. Rachel: Okay, so, just to recap, we're hitting on three main things today, right? First, how trauma gets passed down which honestly sounds like science is about to reveal some creepy family secrets. Second, trying to figure out this whole 'core language' thing, basically decoding the emotional Morse code of our ancestors. And finally, what, we just put the past behind us and rewrite the family playbook? That sounds a bit optimistic, doesn’t it? Autumn: Well, yes! That’s the idea. By exploring these steps, you know, today’s conversation can empower you to understand and heal and even transform your connection with your family history. So, let's get started! Rachel: Well, if it means I can finally stop blaming myself for, you know, these random fears, count me in on this little experiment.

Autumn: Okay, so as we were discussing, let's really dig into how trauma becomes embedded, and more importantly, how it's passed down through generations. This isn't just about family stories or hidden secrets. There's a biological component, and it's all about epigenetics. Rachel, think of your DNA as a really long book. The genes themselves are like the words—they don't change. But how those words are read or emphasized? That's epigenetics in action. Rachel: So, if my genes are the words, epigenetics determines whether I underline “calm under pressure” or highlight “total chaos”? Autumn: Exactly! Trauma can cause changes like DNA methylation. Think of it as adding bookmarks in that DNA book, telling your body, "Hey, pay extra attention to stress responses here." For example, if your ancestors went through something awful—war, famine, a tragedy—those bookmarks can get passed down. You might be more prone to those same stress responses, even if you've never faced anything similar. Rachel: A bookmark that sticks for generations? Like, "To my future family, consider yourselves pre-wired for high alert. Love, Great-Grandma, hiding from the war." Autumn: Precisely! Rachel Yehuda’s research on Holocaust survivors and their descendants really highlights this. Her team found that the children of survivors had lower cortisol levels. Cortisol is so important for managing stress, and these kids, who never experienced the Holocaust, were already showing its effects. Rachel: Okay, but my skeptical side is kicking in. How do we know that this isn't just learned behavior? Kids might just be picking up on their parents' anxiety, right? Autumn: That’s a great point. Neuroscience actually supports what we see in epigenetics. Trauma doesn’t just affect gene expression, it changes the brain itself. Chronic stress can alter the hippocampus, the part of the brain связана with memory and learning, and the amygdala, which is responsible for fear. These changes can impact parenting styles and emotional responses, and of course, affect the next generation. Rachel: So, it's a double whammy. You've got inherited predispositions and environmental factors reinforcing them. It's like starting with a shaky foundation and a house with a few cracks already. Autumn: Exactly. The good news? Once we understand these patterns, we can actually start to address them. Let me tell you about Jesse. Rachel: Ah, here comes the emotional part of the story, right? Autumn: Maybe! Jesse had terrible insomnia, which was frustrating and confusing because he couldn't figure out what was causing it. Through therapy, he discovered a hidden fear: he was afraid of “not waking up.” It turned out that Jesse’s uncle, Colin, had died in a snowstorm, trying to save the power grid. It was a tragic death. Jesse had never even met Colin. And yet, his body seemed to carry that experience. Rachel: Wow, that’s intense. So, Jesse’s insomnia wasn’t just some random thing. It was like his uncle’s trauma had latched onto him somehow? Autumn: Exactly. This is why understanding trauma as a family story is so important. It shifts your perspective. It’s not "What’s wrong with me?" It’s "Where am I continuing someone else’s story?" Rachel: Okay, but couldn’t Jesse just say, "Not my problem," and go on sleeping soundly? Why does acknowledging the trauma even matter? Autumn: Because these patterns usually don’t just disappear on their own. When you avoid them, they can continue to control you in subtle ways. Framing trauma as a family legacy allows you to approach it with curiosity and compassion, rather than shame or fear. The other thing to keep in mind is that these inherited adaptations often served a protective function. Hypervigilance, for example, may have been crucial for survival. It's just that today, in safer situations, they can feel debilitating. Rachel: So what kept Grandma alive during tough times is now the reason I panic when someone doesn't text me back immediately? Autumn: Well, when you put it that way, yes. Mapping out the origins of these behaviors—through things like genograms or journaling—helps you connect the dots. And once you understand the origins, healing becomes something you can actively work on instead of some abstract concept. Rachel: Okay, how do we put this into practice? Is there a starter kit for exploring my own trauma? Autumn: Absolutely. A great place to begin is the Core Language Approach. Start by looking for recurring fears, emotional blocks, or even phrases that feel oddly personal but don’t quite make sense. For example, if you often think, "I’ll never feel secure," that could point to an ancestor who experienced financial ruin. Rachel: Okay, so once I've identified a pattern, then what? Do I write a letter to my great-grandparent saying, "Thanks for the anxiety, but I’m all set now"? Autumn: <Laughs> Something like that! Symbolic exercises like writing letters or visualizing letting go of burdens can be helpful. More importantly, though, acknowledging the patterns is the first step to changing them. It’s like seeing a shadow on the wall—you see it for what it really is, not what you imagine it to be. Rachel: So, step one is recognizing these shadows. And step two? Stop carrying stories that don't belong to me. Autumn: Exactly. Understanding this dynamic brings clarity, and with clarity, transformation is possible. Recognizing what was passed down—and why—allows you to decide consciously what to release and what to keep. Rachel: Okay, Autumn, I’ll admit, this is giving me a completely new perspective on the weird, sometimes annoying things about myself. Maybe they're not just quirks. They're echoes.

Autumn: So, now that we’ve talked about how trauma gets passed down, let’s dive into some practical ways to actually deal with it. That brings us to the Core Language Approach. It’s all about turning awareness into action—basically diagnosing your personal trauma by figuring out the emotional blueprints your ancestors left behind. Rachel: So, is this like linguistic CSI? Instead of tracking fingerprints, we’re chasing down clues in the language we use every day? Autumn: Exactly! That’s a great way to put it. The Core Language Approach is really about spotting those words and phrases that echo through generations. It's like, those repeated fears, complaints, or emotional declarations act as markers pointing us towards inherited pain. And the best part? Once you spot and name these patterns, you're already closer to healing. Rachel: Okay, but how can words or phrases carry “that” much weight? Isn’t language just language? Autumn: Well, you’d think so, wouldn’t you? But language actually reflects what’s going on deep down. I mean, words are how we express our experiences, right? The Core Language Approach focuses on specific patterns and themes that show up in our speech. They feel deeply personal, but often they can be traced back to our ancestors. Rachel: I'm intrigued. Can you give me, like, a concrete example? Because I’m still picturing toddlers inheriting their great-grandparents’ angst somehow. Autumn: Sure, let’s talk about Todd. He’s a case I read about. He struggled with intense aggression, described himself as "explosive" and "out of control". But Todd had no personal history of violence, nothing in his life to explain it, right? But as he explored his family history, a pattern emerged. His grandfather had a long, unresolved history of domestic abuse. Rachel: Hold on—Todd’s aggression wasn’t just a random thing? It was like channeling his grandfather’s unresolved anger? Autumn: Exactly. By identifying those words—“explosive” and “out of control”—Todd found that direct link. The language he used was actually mirroring his grandfather’s behavior. And once that connection came to light, it gave Todd and his family a place to start. They could begin to process the pain that had been haunting them for generations. Rachel: That’s fascinating. It’s almost like your subconscious is nudging you, saying, “Hey, pay attention to this,” and if you don't, it pops up in unexpected ways. Autumn: Precisely! And Todd’s story is just one example. Another key part of this is recognizing your core complaint—that deep-seated, recurring thing you find yourself saying or believing. Like, "I'm not enough," or "I don't belong". On the surface, it seems irrational. But underneath? It's family legacy. Rachel: Alright, let’s play this out. Say someone’s core complaint is: "I'll always be left behind". What could “that” mean? Autumn: That’s a great one! Let’s say this person’s grandmother lost a sibling during a famine. The grandmother might have grown up feeling abandoned or unprotected. That vulnerability gets ingrained, not just in her emotions, but maybe even changes in her DNA. Her kids and grandkids might then inherit that primal fear, even if they’ve never been through anything remotely similar. Rachel: So, you’re saying there's a psychological family heirloom haunting them with, "Hey, life equals abandonment"? Autumn: <Laughs> That’s a way to put it. But seriously, recognizing when a fear isn’t entirely "yours" is really empowering. Once you understand where it comes from, it loses its power over you. Rachel: This brings me to something I’m curious about, what happens when these complaints or fears are buried so deep, that you don’t even “know” they’re there? I mean, what if someone doesn’t say, "I feel abandoned," but they act it out without realizing it? Autumn: That’s where core descriptors and sentences come in. Core descriptors are those words we instinctively use to describe our parents or family. Words like "cold," "overbearing," or "sacrificial" point to unmet needs from our childhood. Core sentences, on the other hand, are those distilled one-liners that come from our deepest fears. These tools help us dig into the subconscious and uncover patterns, even when they aren’t obvious in our everyday language. Rachel: Okay, but let’s say you've figured out you describe your dad as "distant," and you’ve found your core sentence—"I'll never feel loved". Then what? Are you suddenly cured because you've named the monster under your bed? Autumn: Not quite that easy. Naming the "monster," like you said, is just the first step. It’s also important to connect it back to your family's story. Let me give you an example. Take Gretchen. Her core complaint was "I feel like I don’t belong". On the surface, it just seemed like this abstract feeling of alienation. But when she looked at her family narrative, she found the root: her grandmother, a Holocaust survivor, who lived a life of displacement and invisibility. Rachel: So, her grandmother’s trauma filtered down as this vague, persistent feeling of being out of place? Autumn: Exactly. And once Gretchen made that connection, she could see those feelings as inherited, not something intrinsic to who she was. “That’s” the power of this process. It doesn’t erase trauma, but reframes it. It gives you the tools to untangle yourself from pain that you didn't actually create. Rachel: It's wild, Autumn. The more I'm hearing, the more it seems like these inherited patterns speak a whole different language, you know? One you don’t realize you’re fluent in until you start listening really closely. Autumn: Totally! And the Core Language Map is one of the simplest tools to help you lay it all out. Rachel: Wait—we have maps now? Is this where I need a compass and family tree diagram, too? Autumn: No compasses needed, but close! The Core Language Map is a way to organize everything. You divide a page into four sections: core complaints, descriptors, sentences, and traumas. Think of it as untangling a messy ball of string. You start pulling out the knots—like your fear of abandonment, or that you describe one parent as "absent"—and then connect each piece back to that deeper narrative. Rachel: And then what? How do we stop that string from tangling all over again? Autumn: By addressing the underlying stories head-on. That’s where symbolic actions, like writing letters or even having family conversations, can be powerful. You’re reclaiming your story, consciously deciding, "This no longer defines me," and freeing future generations from carrying it, as well. Rachel: Autumn, I’m not gonna lie—this whole conversation is making me question every throwaway phrase I’ve ever uttered. Maybe those ketchup packets I hoard really do have something to say about my great-grandparents.

Autumn: So, now that we have a way to identify trauma, the real work begins: healing and breaking those cycles, especially for future generations. And honestly, Rachel, this is the part I find most empowering. We're talking about personal growth here, about turning that awareness we've been building into real, actionable steps to change your story. Rachel: Okay, so we've managed to dig up the past, figured out we're carrying a lot of baggage. But how do we actually unpack it and start living our own lives, free from all that? Autumn: That's a great way to put it. Healing inherited trauma is really about integrating these experiences. It's not just seeing the patterns, but consciously choosing to do things differently. This can involve so many things—connecting with your body, giving voice to emotions that have been suppressed for so long, and just practicing being present, instead of stuck in the past. Rachel: Wait a minute, you're saying trauma lives in your body? Like, physically, beyond just feeling sad? Autumn: Absolutely! Trauma isn’t always a clear memory, you know? The body holds onto stress responses, which can become physical sensations. Things like chronic pain, tension, even certain illnesses, can be the body's way of signaling unresolved wounds that have been passed down. And sometimes, addressing those physical issues is the first step towards healing. Rachel: Let me guess here—you’ve got a story to tell us. There's always a story, isn't there? Autumn: Of course. Let me tell you about Emily. She was a young woman, dealing with severe chronic pain—just constant aches, stiffness, fatigue—and no doctor could figure out the cause. She felt hopeless, honestly. Then, she started therapy, and it took her in a totally unexpected direction: her relationship with her father. Her dad had passed away suddenly when she was only eight, and her family just never talked about it, about the grief. All that pain and confusion just settled into her physically. Rachel: So, her body was basically acting as a therapist for grief that her family never acknowledged? Interesting. Autumn: Exactly! Through guided visualization, Emily started envisioning herself as that little girl, sitting with her father. She imagined herself saying all the things she couldn't back then—her sadness, her longing, even her anger. She also started painting and journaling, giving herself permission to express everything that had been buried. Over time, her physical pain started to ease. Her body was finally letting go of what it had held for so long. Rachel: Wow, that's… powerful stuff. A bit unsettling, but powerful. So, step one is to have a chat with your inner child while keeping a journal nearby. Got it. Autumn: That's part of it, yes, but there are so many ways to heal. For some people, rituals are really helpful. For example, writing letters to family members—whether to express gratitude, forgiveness, or even anger—can be incredibly transformative. It gives those lingering emotions a voice. Rachel: Okay, playing devil's advocate here. Why bother writing a letter to someone who's no longer alive? What's the point? Autumn: Well, it's not necessarily for them, Rachel. It's for you. Imagine someone writing a letter to a parent who was emotionally unavailable when they were growing up. They might write about how lonely they felt, but also acknowledge that their parent was likely dealing with their own struggles. That kind of emotional release can bring a lot of clarity and relief, even if the parent never actually hears those words. Rachel: So, the act of writing is like… exorcising those inner demons, getting rid of all the negativity? Autumn: Exactly! And visualization is another powerful tool. Take Wanda, for example. She had carried years of resentment towards her mother, who was emotionally distant and made Wanda feel abandoned. So, through visualization combined with healing statements like, “Your pain doesn’t define me,” or “I see your struggles, and I still choose to love,” Wanda reframed her understanding of her mother’s behavior. Eventually, empathy replaced anger, and they actually reconciled after years of estrangement. Rachel: These "healing sentences" sound almost too simple, you know? I can see someone being skeptical. "I release this pain," or "I honor your life"—do people “really” feel different just by saying that? Autumn: They do! Because it's not just about the words themselves, it's about the intention behind them. Healing sentences are like mini-mantras that help you see inherited pain in a new light. They acknowledge the source of the trauma while reminding you that you're not forced to carry it forever. Their simplicity makes them powerful, like a direct line to your subconscious. Rachel: Okay, what if someone doesn't connect with visualization or abstract stuff like that? Any other options in the toolkit? Autumn: Absolutely! Mindfulness is key. It's about “really” grounding yourself in the present moment, becoming aware of patterns without judging yourself. Say someone feels a knot in their stomach during stressful situations. Instead of trying to ignore it, they're encouraged to get curious. "What does this feel like? What might it be telling me?" Pair that with deep breathing or affirmations like, "This feeling is valid, but it doesn't define me," and you're training your mind to approach discomfort with compassion instead of fear. Rachel: So, it's less about fighting your inner struggles and more about learning to be at peace with them? Autumn: Exactly. And once you have that awareness, you can go further. Like, reflect on how those patterns affect your relationships. For instance, if Megan, who struggled with feeling emotionally numb in her relationship, hadn’t explored her grandmother’s unresolved grief, she might have stayed stuck. But making that connection allowed her to change her marriage through open, vulnerable communication. Rachel: Okay, so it starts with self-awareness, which then leads to deeper connections with others. But Autumn, let's be real here. How realistic is this for someone juggling work, daily stress, maybe kids running around? Autumn: That's the great thing about these practices: they don't take a ton of time. You can do mindfulness for just a couple of minutes. A letter doesn't need to be a novel; it can be a paragraph. Even simple creative outlets, like doodling or telling stories, can help bring subconscious emotions to the surface. It's not about the amount of time you spend, but about the consistency of the effort. Rachel: Fair enough. Small steps, big changes. And this all comes back to the bigger picture—that healing isn’t just for us, right? It's for the people around us, and for future generations. Autumn: Exactly. When you break these inherited patterns, you're almost rewriting your family's emotional DNA, so future generations don't have to carry the same burdens. Even small changes have a ripple effect. Each step you take towards healing creates a better foundation for those who come after. We aren't responsible for the pain we inherit, but we have the opportunity—and the power—to end the cycle.

Autumn: Wow, what a deep dive we've taken today, Rachel, unraveling the complexities of inherited family trauma! We've “really” pulled back the layers to see how unresolved pain can echo through generations, impacting everything from our bodies to our behaviors. And it's been fascinating to see how methods like the Core Language Approach, along with various healing practices, can help us identify these ingrained patterns and kick-start a real transformation. Rachel: Absolutely. We started with some pretty intense, almost unbelievable revelations—like, the idea that trauma can literally embed itself in your DNA and subtly influence your daily language, right? But for me, the real clincher is the power of awareness. Once you can name the source of the pain—and even pinpoint its origins—you can actually begin to detach from narratives that aren't even yours to own. Autumn: Precisely! And that's the core message for today: inherited trauma isn't a life sentence. By gaining insight into it, we take control of our narratives, and by actively healing it, we pave the way for a brighter, healthier future for generations to follow. Rachel: So, if there’s one thing people should take away from this, it's to start paying close attention to the patterns in your thoughts, your words, and your emotional responses. Examine the stories they tell, and “really” dig into the links that connect them to your family history. Start to ask yourself the difficult questions. Autumn: Yes, that one courageous act of recognition is the first step in rewriting those outdated stories. Until our next podcast, always remember: you absolutely can honor the past without being bound by it.