Healing Through Therapy: Overcoming Traumatic Memories with Exposure Therapy

Last year, my mom passed away. She had been complaining about shortness of breath for a while, and though she sought medical help, her doctor dismissed it as the lingering effects of a cold. A few weeks later, her symptoms worsened, and in a weakened state, she crashed her car on the freeway. It was the beginning of a downward spiral that would eventually take her life.

In the weeks following the accident, my mom’s condition deteriorated rapidly. She began experiencing hallucinations, convinced that people were in her house making noise, though no one was there. Alarmed, her doctor was consulted again, who this time came to her home and referred her to the hospital immediately. When I heard what was happening, I rushed from my office to her house, arriving just in time to see her being loaded into an ambulance.

I’ll never forget the moment she saw me. I asked her how she was, and she smiled, telling the EMTs that I was her son. They drove off and I anxiously waited for a call from the hospital which came that evening noting she has been admitted to the ICU.

In the ICU, it took hours before I could see her. The doctors and nurses were busy setting up machines, sensors, and IVs. When I finally saw her, she was awake but incredibly weak. I asked how she was doing, and she said, “I’m great now that I see you.” Those were the last words she spoke to me before being placed in a medically induced coma.

Over the next two weeks, the doctors attempted to wake her twice—once by accident, and once intentionally when they believed she no longer needed the coma. But each time, she wasn’t the same. Whether it was the effects of the coma, the medications, or something else, the mother I had known for 40 years was gone. She was awake for about a week before being moved out of the ICU to a regular hospital room, where she passed away the following night.

The day I went to say my final goodbyes at the funeral home was one of the hardest of my life. The memory of seeing her there, in that coffin—cold, unnatural, like someone pretending to be her—haunted me for months. It became the only image of her I could remember, overshadowing all the beautiful memories we had shared. Every time I tried to think of her, I saw that cold, lifeless figure instead.

For months, I couldn’t shake that image. It was as if the memory was stuck on replay, blocking out everything else about her that I had cherished. I knew I needed help, so I turned to a therapist.

In therapy, I learned that traumatic memories don’t store themselves in our minds like other memories do. Instead of being placed in the timeline of our past, they often linger in the present, continuously affecting us as if the trauma is still happening. My therapist recommended exposure therapy, a treatment designed to help process traumatic memories by revisiting them in detail, over and over again.

The idea of reliving that painful moment terrified me, but I knew I needed to reclaim the memories of my mother that I had lost. Exposure therapy was difficult and emotional, but it was also incredibly effective. By confronting that memory repeatedly in a safe environment, my mind was able to finally place it in the past where it belonged. The door that had shut out all my good memories of my mother slowly began to open again.

Now, when I think of my mom, I don’t just see her in that coffin. I remember her warmth, her laughter, and all the moments we shared. Exposure therapy helped me to not only process the trauma but also to reconnect with the person she truly was.

If you’ve experienced trauma, it’s important to know that help is available. Traumatic memories can be overwhelming, but they don’t have to define your life. Seeking help from a professional, whether through exposure therapy or another form of treatment, can make a profound difference in how you process and heal from your pain. You don’t have to go through it alone.