Trauma Stole My Sunshine

When I opened my eyes today, the first thought I had was about how trauma steals the sunshine out of memories. It doesn’t just hurt you in the moment — it overshadows everything else. It convinces you the happy memories don’t exist. They’re there, but buried under layers of pain so thick you can’t see them anymore.

For a long time, I believed I didn’t have any sunshine in my past. But that isn’t true.

When I peel back the layers, I remember some of my brightest moments. Like hanging out with my very first best friend, Dawn. Her mom was the first one to introduce me to monkey bread — sticky, sweet, pull-apart magic I can still taste if I close my eyes. Dawn and I spent hours twirling around, making up dance routines, and laughing until we couldn’t breathe. And one reckless evening, we even took her mom’s car for a joy ride long before either of us had our driver’s license. (Sorry, Mrs. G!)

Those were real memories. They existed. They were mine. Trauma tried to steal them, but they’re still there.

Here’s what I’m learning: healing doesn’t mean pretending the bad never happened. It means remembering the good alongside it — giving yourself permission to hold both. Some days, my brain still wants to tell me there was no sunshine. But when I stop and peel back the layers, I find pieces of it. And those pieces remind me that joy and pain can live side by side.

I’m not an expert. I don’t have credentials or letters after my name. What I have is lived experience. And for me, part of healing is reclaiming the sunshine — memory by memory, moment by moment.

Because trauma may have stolen the spotlight, but it can’t erase the light that was always there.