Metabolism of Memories

In my previous article, I shared a perspective I called “Metabolising the Moment.”

The idea that unresolved trauma, grief, tension, and resentment may actually be undigested experiences, stored emotional energy from which the nutrients, the wisdom, are yet to be extracted.

If you are new to the community and didn’t receive that email, simply reply to this one and I’ll send it across, as it forms the foundation for today’s message.

When an old memory or past event still elicits a physical response, a tightening in the chest, a flush of heat in the face, tension in the stomach or throat, it can suggest that the experience was never fully metabolised.

So how might we begin digesting these undigested parts of our personal history?

Holding Space for Yourself

Metabolism requires a specific environment to function.

The stomach, for example, requires certain pH levels to properly break down food.

Trauma often remains undigested because the original environment was too “acidic”, too stressful, overwhelming, unsafe, or high in cortisol.

By revisiting the memory as your current grounded self, you can begin introducing the missing ingredient:
safety.

And safety can act like an enzyme for emotional healing.

It begins teaching the nervous system that the danger has passed, making the memory ready for digestion.

If the memory feels particularly overwhelming, you may wish to work with a skilled somatic practitioner or therapist who can help create a safe environment for the process.

The Process

Visualise the memory.

How old are you?
Where are you?
What can you see?
What are you feeling in your body?

Make the memory as vivid as possible.

Then visualise your current self entering the scene.

Take your younger self somewhere safe.

Sit with them.
Listen to them.
Hold space compassionately.

You can speak to them directly or aloud.

You might say:
“I’m here.”
“You’re safe.”
“That must have been hard.”

Then begin focusing on the sensations in your body, giving them permission to exist and move through you.

Many lingering memories are often thwarted survival responses.

If you were unable to properly fight, flee, or express yourself during a painful event, the energy can remain trapped as muscular tension, anxiety, hypervigilance, or contraction.

When you were younger, your emotional and metabolic capacity was smaller.
You may simply have lacked the safety, support, or tools required to process what happened.

When your current self holds space for your younger self, you become a co-regulator, helping carry the weight of the experience so the younger self can finally exhale.

This allows the stuck survival energy to begin completing its circuit and discharging from the body.

Updating the Nutrient Profile

Our minds often store old memories as toxins:
stories of shame, failure, rejection, or inadequacy.

But when we revisit the memory with our current awareness and compassion, the “failure” may reveal itself as a survival strategy…
or the consequence of a child lacking support, safety, or understanding.

The toxin begins transforming into wisdom and self-compassion.

Integrating Somatically

Because you are feeling the inner landscape of the body while revisiting the past, you begin rewiring the memory into a more regulated nervous system.

You are teaching the body that the event is over.

Often, people notice an exhale, a sigh, tears, trembling, warmth, or a release of tension.

These can be signs that the body is finally completing and discharging the experience.

I experienced this personally through my relationship with music and self-expression.

I loved music.
I loved singing.

But my throat and body would contract whenever I tried to express myself, even when I was alone.

One day, my desire to discover my voice became more powerful than my fear around it, and I began asking myself:
Why am I so terrified to express this part of myself?

Then a memory surfaced, and my body reacted immediately.

I lay quietly on my sofa in dim light, incense burning nearby, journal beside me, and closed my eyes.

I found myself back in a memory from when I was around seven years old.

A friend had come over to stay, and together we became wildly excited about starting a band.

We spent hours discussing the instruments we would play and eventually… we wrote our first song together:

“The White Wolf.”

“The White Wolf flies up high…
He swoops down low to get some sheep…”

The next day, full of excitement, I gathered my older sister and cousin onto the landing and wholeheartedly performed the first song I had ever written.

And it was met with howls of laughter and relentless mockery.

My face flushed red.
My throat seized.
My heart sank.

I felt deeply embarrassed.

But this time, in my mind’s eye, after the song finished, my current self entered the scene.

I took my younger self back into my old bedroom.
Sat beside him.
Asked him how he felt.

I hugged him and told him I loved the song.

I explained that perhaps they laughed because they had once been laughed at too, or maybe they simply didn’t know how to respond.

And I told him not to let the experience stop him from sharing his beautiful art.

He smiled.
Felt lighter.
Then hugged me back.

I asked him if he could think of a second verse.

He came up with one immediately, and we celebrated together.

The next time I sang in front of people, I felt more ease.
More freedom.
More permission.

And this didn’t just impact my singing.
It changed my relationship with self-expression more broadly.

We don’t need to go hunting through the past searching for memories to metabolise.

But sometimes we notice a conflict between how we long to show up in life…
and how our body feels when we attempt to.

And perhaps that tension is an invitation.

A sign that there may still be nutrients from the past…
awaiting our retrieval.

Until next time,

Peace and love,

Alex