Awe Helps Heal the Symptoms of PTSD and Generational Trauma

 I woke up this morning with one thought on my mind: awe heals trauma. 

So I googled it and found that there was a lot of research showing that awe does, indeed, help heal trauma.

First, I will list some of my recent hiking experiences.

My son and I hiked up Lookout Mountain east of Mt. Hook a few weeks ago. Truthfully, I almost hiked up Lookout Mountain. My son hiked the whole way, but I hiked up far enough to see the mountains and landscape for so many miles, I can only guess. 50? 100? I can only guess. You can see my experience on YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNnX13EAF5A&t=18s

We also paddled a boat across Ollallie Lake a week later and saw 6, yes, SIX, Bald Eagles. Or was it one pair that kept following us? Either way, it was amazing

Then we went on a wildflower walk on the edge of a wilderness area. The place was not only filled with wildflowers but also with butterflies and lots and lots of bee species, not just honey bees. You have to get away from people and insect-killing chemicals to have that kind of experience. And the birds serenaded us continually, too.

As a former wildlife and fisheries biologist, I spent lots of time in nature for work. Then, on my days off, I would go for all-day hikes. There was a simple reason why.

I don't have a good history with people. I was sexually abused as a child and bullied in elementary and junior high school. Once I got to high school, the other kids wanted to copy my math homework, so they stopped bullying me, but if I went to a dance, no one asked me to dance. Then I was raped on a date in college.

I went through even more trauma than all that, which is bad enough. I have only a few vague memories before I was four years old. My continuous memories begin a few months before my fourth birthday, which is around the time two teenage boys took me into a basement and sexually abused me. My mother spent most of her time on the couch smoking cigarettes. Then one morning, a month or so after I was sexually abused, she put my clothes into a paper bag, and my brother's into another, and took us to our babysitter's house. 

She said she wasn't coming back. 

She babysat lots of children. As the day passed, other children's parents came and took them home. Mine did not come. Nor did my father. That night, my brother and I slept on the floor of the babysitter's son's room. I cried and cried and cried.

The babysitter came in and yelled at me.

"Be quiet; you are keeping the whole house up."

So I was quiet, but I wondered why other children had parents who wanted them and why my parents didn't want me.

My father soon arranged for his aunt to come and care for my brother and me. We called her Grandmuddy. Grandmuddy is one of the most loving people I have ever met. I was so happy to be at home with her.

Then, one day, my father took my brother and me to the psychiatric hospital where my mother was staying. I don't remember the hospital at all. I do remember the model of San Francisco Bay we visited on the way home. 

Eventually, my mother came home, and our family had several good years together. But then I struggled in school because the other kids bullied me. I became very depressed in 7th grade, so my parents sent me to live with my uncle in Connecticut for a school year. My uncle owned 5 acres of woods in Connecticut and a farm in Vermont. I started walking in the woods and discovered that I really liked walking in the woods.

After the school year ended, I returned home. My parents separated and divorced, and my mother began drinking. My brother also developed the habit of slapping me whenever he came into a room where I was. He did not slap me hard enough to hurt me. Mostly, he just bruised my ego because he did it in front of our mother, who never told him not to slap me.

At some point, I could not take it anymore, so I went to live with friends. They were a Mexican immigrant family so generous that they could not imagine not making space for me in their already full house. Their love and acceptance really helped me, but I needed private space and time to cope with what I had been going through. Our hometown was located on the banks of a river. Sometimes at night, when I was feeling depressed or stressed, I went for a walk along that river.

I remember clear nights with the moon reflected in the river's waters. I remember foggy nights with the moon shining dimly through the clouds. I felt calmer, at peace.

My history of walking, hiking, backpacking, and bicycling through nature is a long one. Being a wildlife biologist pays poorly. The job security is lousy. But my jobs made me happy.

Later in life, I married and had children. 

I knew the marriage was over when my then-husband said during a camping trip I had dragged him on, "I hate nature."

But as a single mother, I could do as I pleased. So I took my kids camping most summers and hiking many weekends. My son loved it. My daughter, not so much... until she got to college. In college, many of her friends loved hiking and outings in nature.

But back to awe healing trauma. So when I woke up this morning thinking about how "awe" heals trauma, I googled it. 

According to the AI assistant, "Reduction in PTSD Symptoms: Engaging in awe-inducing activities, especially in nature, has been shown to decrease PTSD symptoms. Participants in studies reported a notable reduction in stress and trauma symptoms after experiencing awe."

Psychology Today published and then updated a synthesis article on the subject on July 17, 2023. One study cited in the article studied the outcomes of two sets of walkers. One set merely went for daily walks. The other set of walkers took photos of their surroundings. The second group experienced significantly more positive emotions and less anxiety and depression.

So, next time you feel stressed or depressed, take two hikes.

Sadly, due to her addictions to alcohol and cigarettes, my mother died from emphysema and cirrhosis of the liver when I was 28.

But one more thing......When I was 43, my cousin called me and told me that our aunt told her that all the sisters in the family--my mother, her mother, and our aunt--had been sexually abused by our grandfather. My first reaction was disbelief because my mother had never revealed why she struggled with her mental health and alcoholism, but the more I thought about it, the more my cousin's revelation made sense.

Because I struggled to find a permanent job as a wildlife and fisheries biologist, I went back to school to become a Registered Nurse. My favorite jobs was working in a psychiatric hospital. Some of the patients who struggled with depression and alcoholism were sexually abused as children.