Peak summer is triggering densely traumatic memories

Tw: csa

Summer’s warmth makes everything feel more intense. as if my body remembers things I wish I could forget, even when my mind tries to pretend they didn’t happen.

My memories of CSA are deeply connected to being naked under the sun, feeling the warmth on my skin while being massaged. Summer’s sun and its heat, the sensation of greasy creams and oils and the memories of being inspected on sweat between my thighs after school, all of these are intertwined with my trauma. Now even the simple act of being outside in summer sun, can trigger flashbacks and intense feelings of vulnerability.

The weather here in Amsterdam doesn’t make it easier sometimes gray and rainy, other times scorching hot. Traveling to Switzerland, surrounded by mountains and fresh air, offers some relief, but even there, the memories come rushing back in the sunshine or the warm winds.

The heat makes everything more overwhelming. I have so much desire to be near water and beaches but my body tenses and my heart palpitates when all I’m thinking and feeling are the flashbacks flooding in and compulsive arousal at the same time.

I’ve noted that smell of certain lavender based products or particular Swiss brand of sunscreen, blooming flowers, and chlorine now sometimes just amplify feelings of shame. The sensation of sweat, being aroused when probed and inspection after school, the feeling of exposure these moments replay in my mind when I feel the sun on my skin.

It’s like an annoying but self harming itch where Hyperarousal is constant. My nervous system is always on high alert my skin feels like it’s on fire, and I find myself touching myself just to feel a tiny bit calmer or more grounded in body than fantasying about being used and abused. Sometimes I run my hand along my arms or legs, seeking relief amid the chaos inside my head.

I’m learning to sit with these feelings instead of fighting them. To accept that this is part of me that summer, with all its peculiarities, can bring both pain and a strange kind of healing. Small acts, like touching myself when I need to, remind me that I still have some control, even when everything feels like it’s spiraling.

It’s also is a paradox for me, beautiful and brutal. It makes me feel alive and vulnerable, cherished and exposed. But I’m starting to see that even in vulnerability, there’s strength. My body holds these memories, yes, but it also holds resilience. Maybe, just maybe, I can find ways to heal amid the heat and chaos. I now lean into these chances to feel, to face what’s inside, and to slowly start healing.