“Am I a bad mom?” For women who grew up unseen, that question can echo for a lifetime. In this intimate essay, Leigh William explores how childhood neglect shapes motherhood and shares evidence-based strategies for healing, reclaiming self-compassion, and finding strength in vulnerability.

A decade-old trauma resurfaced today, reminding me that recovery is both fragile and brave.

In the midst of preparing for my first exams in the Master of Science in Integrative Therapy program, I’ve been deeply immersed in The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk, alongside a wealth of academic and scientific research. The material I’m studying has been both academically enriching and personally affirming. Looking back on my journey, from finance and marketing to midwifery care, I see how each step, including my own experience as a survivor of trauma, has shaped my path.

Through the lens of trauma studies, I now understand how trauma isn’t just a psychological wound—it’s a physiological imprint that can be passed down through generations. As we deepen our understanding of embodied healing, the importance of early intervention becomes clear. The body holds the wisdom to heal, and by listening to it, we have the power to break the cycle of trauma for future generations.

Unsplash Image by Unseen Studio

@uns__nstudio

I wanted this trip to be about new places, about adventure, about the lightness of movement and discovery. A travel journal, filled with café stops and charming streets, salty sea air and sunsets over unfamiliar horizons. But the truth is, we don’t always get to decide what takes up space in our hearts.

Because here I am, standing at an airport gate, unable to shake the image of a young woman leaning into the man beside her, fragile but determined, taking step after step toward something unknown. And here I am, once again, feeling the weight of a battle I fought nearly a decade ago, a battle I have spent years healing from, releasing, making peace with. Yet, no matter how much time passes, some moments pull me right back.

This journey has been a series of reminders—not of where I’m going, but of where I’ve been. And no matter how much I try to keep this journal lighthearted, the truth insists on being written. Because sometimes, travel isn’t just about places. Sometimes, it’s about what we carry with us, even when we think we’ve left it behind.

In the quiet moments of healing, we often rediscover the joy we thought was lost. It’s not about erasing pain but finding peace amidst it. Through compassion, self-love, and intentional living, we can gently guide ourselves from the depths of grief towards the light of joy. By allowing ourselves to feel, to grieve, and to heal, we create the space for joy to return—reminding us that even after the darkest times, beauty and happiness can flourish once again.

Through shattered glass and broken dreams, she found her sanctuary. Each step, each spin, became a silent vow to rebuild what life had unraveled. In the rhythm of movement, she learned balance—not just on the dance floor, but in her heart.

*********************
Beneath the weight of sorrow’s veil,
A tender soul began to pale.
Through shattered glass and broken dreams,
Life unraveled at its seams.

The child, once bright, with laughter's glow,
Learned early what it means to know
That love can wane, that bonds can break,
That silence deepens every ache.