Intergenerational trauma and healing are deeply connected to the stories we carry — both our own and those of the generations before us. As I grow older, I find myself becoming more conscious about the experiences and stories that shaped me — not only my own story, but also the stories of those who came before me. I often wonder about my grandparents and how different their lives were from mine. In many ways, their lives continue through us.
Intergenerational trauma refers to emotional patterns, stress responses, or coping mechanisms that are passed down from one generation to the next.
My maternal grandmother is the one I knew best. She was born in 1907 in the Westfjords of Iceland. From the age of sixteen to twenty, I spent my summer holidays working in the nursing home where she lived during the last years of her life. This time I had with her remains very special to me. I remember sitting with her during my breaks, chatting and laughing together, and sometimes she just needed to rest or take a nap, but I still enjoyed sitting with her in peace and quiet. There was something deeply peaceful about being in her presence. I was curious about her life and her experiences, but I remember her saying to me:
“Rannveig, the future is now. The past is done. We don’t need to talk about it.”
Those words stayed with me through the years, more than I understood at the time they were told. I saw her as a role model — a strong woman who kept going no matter what. I knew that she had grown up in poverty in the Westfjords, and that at seventeen she moved to Reykjavík, the capital of Iceland, to join her older sister in search of a better life. She later married my grandfather, who was a widower with seven children. Together they had three more children, including my mother, who was born in 1947. When my mother was only two years old, my grandfather passed away. At that time, there was little support available for a single mother, yet my grandmother held everything together. She worked hard and kept the family together. In my family, my grandmother was deeply respected. She lived to the age of 95, with a clear mind, even as her body grew tired. She belonged to a generation that worked hard, showed strength, and rarely spoke about emotions — yet expressed love through care, presence, and kindness.
My paternal grandmother was born in 1920 in Ófeigsfjörður, one of the most remote fjords in Iceland. At that time, the only way to reach the area was by horse or a boat. She lost her father at a young age, and her mother left her in the care of relatives while she went to Reykjavík in search of a better life. She never returned to collect her daughter. This must have left a deep sense of loss in my grandmother’s heart. She passed away when I was eight years old, so I did not get the opportunity to know her well, but as a child, I experienced her as an emotionally distant grandmother, even though I knew that she loved her grandchildren. Looking back, I understand that she likely carried a deep sorrow that shaped her life from a young age.
In my family, there are stories of resilience and survival — of people who kept going, even when life was hard — and of emotions that may have been carried silently rather than spoken.
As I reflect on my own upbringing, I begin to see how deeply we are influenced by those who came before us. My parents, both born in 1947, did the best they could with the life experiences they carried. They grew up in a very different world, shaped by circumstances and expectations that are not the same today. When I look back, I see strength, responsibility, and a deep sense of care for their family.
Today, research suggests that trauma can influence future generations, not only through environment and experience but also through emerging epigenetic pathways (please see below recommended reading if you want to know more). And this is where it becomes personal for me.
For more than two decades, I carried strong feelings that I had suppressed since childhood, and when I finally sought help, I began working my way out of this void that had shaped my life since I was a young girl. I was bullied as a child from the age of seven and throughout elementary and secondary school. I was a redhead with a very curly hair, which made me stand out. It started with kids in my class saying little comments about my hair, but over time it grew worse and affected me deeply, well into adulthood and to this day. These are deep wounds that have taken me a long time to open up about publicly and led me to becoming my own worst critic.
Working through that experience helped me understand a part of myself. But it also opened the door to something deeper. I began to see that some of what I was carrying was not only about my own experiences and traumas, but also connected to something larger — patterns, emotions, and ways of coping that may have been passed down through generations.
Over the past decade, on my healing journey, I have come to understand myself more clearly and begun to piece my emotional self back together. This has unfolded slowly, through reflection, through my recent experiences on my healing journey, and through a growing curiosity about what shapes us as human beings. What I have learned is that better understanding where we come from can help us understand ourselves more deeply. Not so that we remain in the past, but so that we can meet ourselves with more compassion in the present. Because in the end, this is not only about trying to fully understand others. It is about becoming more aware of ourselves.
We all carry stories — some spoken, some unspoken, and perhaps part of our journey is not to change where we come from, but to choose, with awareness and care, what we carry forward.
If you are working your way through a traumatic experience, I highly recommend Mariel Buqué, an expert in intergenerational trauma who has written a powerful book on the subject. If this resonates with you, I encourage you to read it and begin exploring.
I would also love to hear your recommendations. I’m always open to discovering more resources. Feel free to drop me a line using the contact me feature above.
Resources
As I have shared in previous posts, the way we understand ourselves is often shaped by deeper patterns beneath the surface. This can influence how we reconnect with our authentic self, how we experience loneliness even when life appears full, and how these layers ultimately shape our health and wellbeing in ways we may not immediately recognise.
And finally, everyone’s wellbeing journey looks different. If you would like a starting point, you can take a short assessment here to discover your sustainable wellness score. It’s free, provides instant results and guidance, and can help you reflect on your wellbeing.
With care,
Rannveig
Leave a Reply