How Trauma Distorts Memory, Connection, and the Self

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Sometimes I find myself saying things like, "I've never liked anyone," or "people just destroy me," and in that moment, it feels devastatingly true. It feels like an undeniable reality shaped by years of pain, betrayal, and abandonment. But then, like some quiet whisper from my own history, I’ll remember a kind teacher, a friend who made me laugh, or a moment of real connection. It almost feels like a glitch in the narrative I’ve been holding. A part of me wants to say, "See? Not everything was terrible," while another part wants to reject it completely. If you've ever been there—wondering how both of these experiences can be real at the same time—you are not alone. And you are not broken. What you're feeling is a trauma-induced distortion of memory and emotional access. It's your body and brain trying to protect you, even when it doesn't feel like protection at all.

The Trauma Filter: When the Past Gets Wiped Clean

Trauma doesn’t just hurt you when it happens. It echoes, long after the event, in the way your nervous system processes memory, emotion, and safety. One of the most damaging after-effects of trauma is something called state-dependent memory. Basically, when you’re in a certain emotional or physiological state—especially one of fear, despair, shutdown, or disgust—your brain can’t access memories or emotions that were formed in completely different states, like joy, trust, or connection (van der Kolk, 2014; Siegel, 2012). That means that when you're spiraling or in emotional pain, your brain literally locks you out of the memories that could contradict your pain. So you feel like no one ever loved you. Like you've never liked anyone. Like there’s never been anything but loss and rejection. It doesn’t mean it’s true. It means your nervous system is trying to keep you alive by focusing on danger.

Two Contradictory Selves: And Both Are Real

There are times when I can recall people I deeply appreciated. My high school teachers, Ms. Fraser and Mr. Palladino, changed the course of my life. They helped me learn how to think and how to learn. I had friends during those years too, people I laughed with, people who brought some light into a very dark time. So when I say I’ve never liked anyone, I know on some level that I’m not telling the whole truth. But the disconnect is real. That version of me who was able to enjoy connection, to laugh, to trust? He feels like a ghost. A version of me that lived in a completely different timeline. That’s what trauma does—it splits us. It buries the warm memories and keeps the painful ones on the surface, because those are the ones it thinks we need to remember in order to survive.

Why It Matters That You've Liked People Before

It matters because it reminds you that your heart wasn’t always shut down. It reminds you that your capacity for liking, for connecting, for caring—it’s real. It didn’t disappear. It’s just buried. And that distinction can change everything. I know that without Ms. Fraser and Mr. Palladino, my life would have turned out very differently. They were living proof that people could be generous, supportive, consistent. I reached out to both of them as an adult to thank them because I never forgot what they gave me. But when I’m in a low state—triggered, withdrawn, disgusted—I forget. Or I can’t feelthe truth of it anymore. And that’s the thing: trauma doesn’t erase facts. It just scrambles your emotional access to them.

How to Reconnect with the Truth of Your Life

One practice I’ve started is keeping a "Proof of Goodness" memory bank. It’s a running list of every person, moment, or memory that reminds me that I have experienced real connection. I write down names. Ms. Fraser. Mr. Palladino. Friends who made me laugh in 12th grade. Even small memories—a stranger who was kind, a barista who gave me a free drink when I was having a bad day. These aren’t small things. They are anchors. And when I’m spiraling, they help pull me back to reality.

When that voice shows up saying, "You’ve never liked anyone," I’ve learned to answer it with more nuance. I say, "This is how I feel right now. My trauma brain is online. My access to love and connection is offline. That doesn’t mean those things didn’t happen. It just means I can’t feel them right now."

Another tool that’s helped is writing letters to my past selves. I write to the teenager who loved AP Euro, who was blown away by philosophy, who felt alive talking about art and politics. I ask him what gave him hope, what made him feel excited to be alive. That kid is still in me. He didn’t die. He just got pushed into a corner when survival took over.

It also helps to track the triggers. I’ve noticed that the spiral tends to come when I’m lonely, exhausted, or after a fight. My body goes into emergency mode, and that’s when the disgust shows up. That’s when the memory of goodness goes offline. So now I know that when I’m feeling like everyone is awful and no one has ever cared about me, I’m not seeing clearly. I’m in a trauma filter.

Final Thoughts

You are not lying when you say you’ve never liked anyone. You are speaking from the part of you that is trying to protect you from more pain. But that part of you doesn’t hold the full truth. You have liked people. You have been seen. You have been loved. And the version of you that experienced those things? That version is still inside you. You don’t need to force anything. You just need to start making room for that truth again. One memory at a time. One feeling at a time. One reconnection at a time.

Resources

1. van der Kolk, B. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Penguin Books.

2. Siegel, D. J. (2012). The Developing Mind: How Relationships and the Brain Interact to Shape Who We Are. Guilford Press.

3. Fisher, J. (2017). Healing the Fragmented Selves of Trauma Survivors: Overcoming Internal Self-Alienation. Routledge.

4. Porges, S. (2011). The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological Foundations of Emotions, Attachment, Communication, and Self-regulation. W. W. Norton & Company.

5. Levine, P. A. (1997). Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma. North Atlantic Books.

6. Ogden, P., Minton, K., & Pain, C. (2006). Trauma and the Body: A Sensorimotor Approach to Psychotherapy. W. W. Norton & Company.

7. Herman, J. L. (1992). Trauma and Recovery. Basic Books.

8. Rothschild, B. (2000). The Body Remembers: The Psychophysiology of Trauma and Trauma Treatment. W. W. Norton & Company.

9. Courtois, C. A., & Ford, J. D. (2009). Treating Complex Traumatic Stress Disorders: An Evidence-Based Guide. Guilford Press.

10. Mate, G. (2022). The Myth of Normal: Trauma, Illness & Healing in a Toxic Culture. Avery.