Last summer was predictably hot. By mid-December, the grass was already browning, the air shimmered by mid-morning, and we moved slowly through thick heat that pressed down on everything. Water restrictions. Parched gardens. Fire bans. That particular quality of late-afternoon light through a heat haze.

This January feels nothing like that. Cool mornings where I need a light cardigan. Overcast days. Rain when there should be shine. Green grass in mid-summer. Yet my body keeps expecting last summer to arrive. I find myself dressing for heat that doesn't come, bracing for conditions that aren't here. I wait for the heatwave my body insists is coming…because last January was like that. And the January before. And the one before that.

Except this one isn't.

When Memory Becomes The Template

The body holds memories of previous experiences and uses them as templates for what's ahead. This is efficient and intelligent. Why start from scratch every time when you already have data about what January feels like, what summer brings, and how to prepare? The body says: I've done this before. I know what to expect. Let me get ready.

After trauma, this becomes even more pronounced. We don't just remember what happened, our bodies prepare for it to happen again. Every summer gets measured against past summers. Every situation gets filtered through the lens of what came before. Every January carries the weight of all the previous Januarys, especially the difficult ones.

The body's dilemma becomes: which version of reality should it prepare for? The one it remembers or the one that's actually here?

And here's what makes this so complicated: sometimes the body's memory-based predictions kept us safe. If last time someone said they'd be home at six and showed up at midnight drunk and violent, remembering that pattern was survival. If last time things seemed calm and then suddenly weren't, staying vigilant made sense. The body learned to trust its archives more than current conditions, because current conditions changed suddenly, it even felt like they lied.

So now, even when the threat is gone, even when the situation is genuinely different, the body defaults to what it knows. It prepares for last summer's heat in the middle of this summer's rain. It braces for last year's danger in this year's safety. It's loyal to what kept you alive.

Three Practices for Separating Then from Now

These practices assume that you are actually safe and your body is reacting to unresolved trauma. Please check in with yourself before you commence. If you feel it’s not the right time, that’s okay. You can keep this and try at a later date or feel free to reach out to Linda via the contact us link at the top of the page.

Practice One: The Reality Check

When you notice yourself preparing for conditions that aren't here, stop. Look around slowly, as if you're seeing this moment for the first time. Really take your time with these observations. Move slowly through them one at a time, noticing what happens within your body.

Notice the familiarity of the space you are in. How does your body feel in this space?

Notice the temperature on your skin right now. Is it hot or cool? Humid or dry? How does the temperature feel?

Notice the light. Is it bright or overcast? Harsh or soft? How does it feel to notice the light?

Notice the sounds. What do you hear in this moment? How does it feel listening to the sounds?

Try saying aloud: "This is what's actually here." Name three specific things: "Cool air. Grey clouds. Bird sounds." Let your senses give you current information instead of archived data. What does that feel like to be present to what is in this moment?

Practice Two: Connection To Yourself

I invite you to do this practice slowly and consciously. Take particular notice what happens in your body when you do this.

Place one hand on your heart and the other on your belly. Feel both hands making contact with your body. Take the space to really feel what happens when you connect physically with your body. When you feel to, take three slow breaths, feeling your chest and belly rise and fall beneath your palms.

Try saying quietly to yourself: "That was then. This is now." Take some time to see if these words make any difference to you right now.

If your body argues (and it often does), acknowledge it: "Yes, I remember then. And this is now." Very gently educating your body back to safety.

You may like to keep your hands there until you feel a slight softening, a small acknowledgment from your body that maybe, possibly, this moment is different from that one. No need to force yourself to do anything…you are simple helping the body to feel safety.

Practice Three: Finding Something Solid to Touch

Move your hands from your body to something external and solid. A wall. A tree trunk. The ground beneath you. Something that exists only in this present moment, not in memory.

You might like to press your palms firmly against this solid surface. Feel its texture, temperature, and stability. Try saying: "This is here. I am here. Right now." Notice what you feel in your body. Does it start to settle, or does it feel more charged? There is no right or wrong, we work with what is in the moment without judgment. This is very important. Remember, you have cleverly, creatively adjusted yourself to survive your life. By doing this work, you are beginning to claim back your life from unresolved trauma.

Let your body register this moment through touch, not through memory, not through prediction, but through the actual physical contact happening now.

Reflection: Unpacking the Body's Archives

You may like to explore a little more after you have completed the steps above. You could sit with these questions. Write if that helps, or simply let them settle into your awareness. Either are great practice.

It is important to remember to recognise if you start to go into a trauma response. If you do, stop the process and regulate yourself however you do that. You might like to focus on breathing, in for 4 and out for 8. You might like to feel your bare feet on the ground. However you bring yourself out of a trauma response is fine.

What is your body preparing for that isn't here? Be specific. What conditions, what situations, what version of reality is your body braced for?

When did your body learn that memories were more reliable than current reality? You don't need to relive anything. Only acknowledge there was a time when trusting the present moment was dangerous.

How does your body signal that it's operating from memory rather than current conditions? Does it feel different in your body when you're responding to now versus responding to then? Do you know the difference between now and then? This is about learning your own signals of distress.

What would it take for your body to trust that this moment might be different? Not forever. Just this moment. What evidence would your body need?

Teaching the Body About Now

This work isn't you trying to convince your body to forget. Memory is protective, useful, and important. This work is teaching your body to check current conditions alongside remembered ones. Then to ask: is this then, or is this now? You begin to differentiate between the past and this moment.

Your body prepares for last summer's heat because last summer's heat was real. That's not wrong. But this summer's cool mornings are also real. This moment's overcast sky is also real. The body can hold both: what it remembers and what the truth of this moment is.

This takes practice…lots of it. Your body has years of evidence of memories predicting the future. You're building new evidence, slowly, that sometimes the present moment deserves its own attention, separate from the past.

Start small. One moment of noticing: this is now. One breath of acknowledging: that was then. One touch of something solid: I am here, and that's enough for now.