That’s partly because I come from a Japanese culture that values humility, where it’s safer—even preferable—to be self-deprecating rather than self-confident. But I may have taken it too far, which I now also recognize was a byproduct of complex trauma. Distorted self-identity and perception, as it turned out, are some of the major hallmarks of complex trauma.

Thanks to advances in neuroscience, we now have empirical evidence showing that prolonged toxic stress, especially during early childhood, can disrupt the normal wiring and development of the nervous system. This kind of stress can leave lasting imprints on the brain, shaping thought and behavioral patterns well into adulthood. The Japanese proverb I grew up hearing, “mitsugo no tamashii hyaku made“—the soul of a three-year-old lives until 100 years old—truly has practical wisdom and application.

It wasn’t until after finishing my early drafts that I learned about Judith Herman, a Harvard psychiatrist who first coined the term “complex trauma” (or CPTSD). Being able to name what I had experienced throughout my life was eye-opening and empowering. It gave me a language to articulate what had felt elusive and invisible for so long and helped me understand my puzzling behaviors more clearly.

Childhood emotional neglect can be subtle, yet pervasive and insidious. The coping mechanisms we develop as children to survive what feels unsafe or unstable can become so ingrained in our personalities that we mistake them for personal failings. If we develop a vicious inner critic, it will beat us up for feeling bad about our ineffective or maladaptive coping skills—in other words, feeling bad about feeling bad makes even an ordinary challenge exponentially harder. It’s common to dismiss hallmark signs that are actually red flags, and many of us spend a lifetime wondering why our life seems so difficult. I’ve met several people in the CPTSD Foundation community who shared that they didn’t realize they were suffering from it until much later in life.

We can’t change or heal what we don’t recognize. Unfortunately, emotional neglect is so invisible that it is often misunderstood, dismissed, or rarely discussed, yet it can be just as damaging as other forms of abuse. When left unrecognized, it can unknowingly be passed down through generations. I was motivated to share my story to make the invisible visible. By speaking out, I hope others with similar experiences will feel seen, heard, and empowered to share their struggles—and begin healing and building a sense of community rooted in genuine connection and compassion.

My book is available on October 7th,  wherever books are sold. Here are some convenient links for purchase:

Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1647429803

Simon & Schuster:
https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/The-Pond-Beyond-the-Forest/Shigeko-Ito/9781647429805

Third Place Books:
https://www.thirdplacebooks.com/book/9781647429805

Book Passage:
https://www.bookpassage.com/book/9781647429805

Bookshop.org:
https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-pond-beyond-the-forest-reflections-on-childhood-trauma-and-motherhood-shigeko-ito/ba6b87729ed5e68f?ean=9781647429805&next=t

Barnes & Noble:
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-pond-beyond-the-forest-shigeko-ito/1146966600

Target:
https://www.target.com/p/the-pond-beyond-the-forest-by-shigeko-ito-paperback/-/A-1004992871

Shigeko Ito

Shigeko Ito grew up in Japan and immigrated to the United States to pursue higher education. She studied early childhood education, earning a PhD in Education from Stanford University. Drawing on cross-cultural experiences and academic expertise, she explores themes of trauma, resilience, and healing, with a particular focus on childhood emotional neglect. Her work has appeared on the CPTSD Foundation blog and the Anxiety and Depression Association of America website. In 2025, she was named a semifinalist in the nonfiction category of the Tucson Festival of Books Literary Awards. She worked in Montessori preschools for many years and lives in Seattle with her husband of thirty years and beloved animals.

shigekoito.com

Until bedtime, which proved to be a challenge.

Following the breeder’s advice, I attempted to “furberize” her by placing her in her crate in the kitchen, leaving the heart sound noise maker on before going to bed. At 1:30 AM, her cries woke me. I rushed her outside; she needed to poop. Back in the crate, she slept until 4:10 AM, when the crying started again. This time, she needed to pee. When I tried returning her to the crate, she had other ideas; it was playtime for her. “Sorry, Sophie, Grandma is too tired to play,” I said. Desperate for sleep, I wrapped her in a bath towel and tucked her into bed with me.

The next night, I steeled myself and tried the “let her cry it out” method again, but Sophie’s reaction was swift and intense. I walked away and waited for a while to see if she would give up and fall asleep. But instead, her plaintive howls grew louder and louder, piercing the darkness. I’d had many puppies before, but this was the saddest cry I’d ever heard. It didn’t sound right; something felt different. I worried she might have been caught in the crate and injured.

When I checked on her, she wagged her tail and appeared fine, but I intuited that she had significant separation anxiety, and forcing nighttime crate training might only exacerbate it. So, I put her in a small portable crate, placing it right next to my side of the bed within arm’s reach.

Suddenly, I was transported back 27 years to when I struggled to establish a structured sleep routine with my baby, using—and soon abandoning—the Ferber method. The sound of his cry cut through me to the core. It was too excruciating. Too traumatizing.

I heard about the Ferber method during my early motherhood years. It is a sleep training technique coined by Dr. Richard Ferber and is designed to help infants learn to self-soothe and fall asleep on their own. This approach requires gradual steps and isn’t as radical as it sounds. Proponents of this method argue that it can lead to improved sleep habits for both the baby and parents in the long-term. However, critics contend that it could be emotionally damaging to infants and may negatively impact the parent-child attachment bond.

Coming from Japan where soine (co-sleeping) is very common, the Ferber method did indeed sound radical and even counterintuitive, going against the instinct of responsive caregiving. But in my case, there seemed to be an additional factor for not being able to implement this technique. In the end, I resorted to installing an Arm’s Reach Co-Sleeper. This device functions as an extension to the parents’ bed, allowing them to safely sleep in close proximity to their baby. Although it worked as a short-term solution, it spectacularly backfired in the long run, causing both my husband and me to develop full-blown insomnia for years to come.

Undoubtedly, my intense discomfort with both my puppy’s and baby’s cries reflects hallmarks of complex trauma: hypervigilance and emotional dysregulation, manifesting in a lower threshold for stressful or emotionally charged situations.

People with complex trauma often develop a heightened sensitivity to others’ needs as a survival mechanism

Typically stemming from childhood experiences where their needs were routinely overlooked or ignored, people with complex trauma often develop a heightened sensitivity to others’ needs as a survival mechanism. This can lead to excessive people-pleasing behaviors, where they prioritize others’ needs at the expense of their own, perpetuating a cycle of self-neglect. This imbalance can lead to burnout, emotional exhaustion, and an inability to effectively care for others. It is critical, therefore, to learn how to balance sensitivity to others with proper self-care and self-preservation.

Sophie, the puppy, seems to be a light sleeper, just like my son used to be when he was a baby.

“I explored and chronicled the impacts of these difficult parenting experiences through the lens of my journey with complex trauma in my upcoming memoir, The Pond Beyond the Forest: Reflections on Childhood Trauma and Motherhood, due to be published in October 2025.

Photo credit Author

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Shigeko Ito

Shigeko Ito grew up in Japan and immigrated to the United States to pursue higher education. She studied early childhood education, earning a PhD in Education from Stanford University. Drawing on cross-cultural experiences and academic expertise, she explores themes of trauma, resilience, and healing, with a particular focus on childhood emotional neglect. Her work has appeared on the CPTSD Foundation blog and the Anxiety and Depression Association of America website. In 2025, she was named a semifinalist in the nonfiction category of the Tucson Festival of Books Literary Awards. She worked in Montessori preschools for many years and lives in Seattle with her husband of thirty years and beloved animals.

shigekoito.com

In the aftermath of this presidential election, I know I’m not alone in my grief and anxiety about our country’s future. The sentiments of despair, powerlessness, and dejection left me feeling once again like a vulnerable little child who was often by herself in an emotionally neglectful home environment.

But the sky isn’t falling, and there might still be a silver lining hiding in the least expected places. That’s the rational part of my brain thinking after the initial upheaval of the storm has passed. I then thought to myself, “Wouldn’t it be great to maintain calm in the midst of the storm?” This led me to explore online resources about emotional regulation, resulting in a few enlightening “aha” moments.

We are all wired for safety and survival, and when these instincts are threatened—whether the threat is real or perceived—our brains can’t tell the difference, and the fight-or-flight response kicks in. Imagine young children who are shocked and terrified after experiencing a traumatic event, feeling so overwhelmed and unable to calm themselves down. In an ideal setting, they would have consistent and emotionally responsive caregivers who support and comfort them.

Children learn how to regulate their emotions through “co-regulation”—the process by which caregivers help children manage distress. This guidance allows children to internalize coping mechanisms and develop healthy self-regulatory skills over time.

However, in the absence of attuned caregivers who model and teach emotional regulation, children are forced to rely on “auto-regulation” before they are equipped to do so. This is the ability to manage emotions independently. While it is an important ability to develop eventually, when a child adopts it instinctively and prematurely as a primitive means of emotional survival, it can create significant developmental challenges. This often leads to rigid, maladaptive, or ineffective coping mechanisms later in life.

In short, adult emotional responses are deeply rooted in our childhood experiences. That said, neuroscience research on neuroplasticity shows that the brain remains capable of change throughout life. Learning new skills, including those for emotional regulation, is therefore possible even in adulthood, though the degree of plasticity may vary with age and from person to person.

Yoga, meditation, and creative activities that facilitate emotional release through self-expression are often recommended as beneficial for achieving emotional balance and overall well-being. For me, putting pen to paper functions like an attuned and responsive caregiver. It helps me organize and rationalize my out-of-control emotions by activating the prefrontal cortex, which is responsible for executive functions such as emotional regulation and logical reasoning.

For those of us who have a brain that is prone to anxiety and depression, it’s essential to keep in mind that it is not our fault. A vital step in the healing journey is not to beat ourselves up for our struggles but to first recognize and even appreciate our younger selves who developed coping skills on their own. They did their best to help us survive difficult experiences growing up.

As for the election, despite the outcome, I believe Kamala Harris ran a commendable campaign under challenging circumstances and offered a much-needed sense of hope and optimism. Given the short notice after President Biden’s withdrawal, she rose to the occasion admirably, demonstrating what true leadership looks like. And her focus on key issues like reproductive rights and economic equality resonated with many of us. Our dedication to making our country kinder, more civil, and compassionate will continue, regardless of who occupies the White House. This ongoing effort for a more humane society can transcend any challenges we may face, reminding us that positive change is a collective, enduring endeavor worth fighting for.

Photo by Stephanie McCabe on Unsplash

About the Author:

Shigeko Ito is a writer and mental health advocate living in Seattle. She holds a PhD in Education from Stanford University and has a background in early childhood development and education. Her memoir, The Pond Beyond the Forest: Reflections on Childhood Trauma and Motherhood, is set to be published on October 7, 2025. In this book, she explores the long-term effects of childhood attachment trauma on adult life, particularly in motherhood. She illustrates how healing from past wounds is a gradual process marked by fits and starts, where each step of reflection and learning—small, big, and anything in between—can lead to a shift in perspective and profound transformation over time.

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Shigeko Ito

Shigeko Ito grew up in Japan and immigrated to the United States to pursue higher education. She studied early childhood education, earning a PhD in Education from Stanford University. Drawing on cross-cultural experiences and academic expertise, she explores themes of trauma, resilience, and healing, with a particular focus on childhood emotional neglect. Her work has appeared on the CPTSD Foundation blog and the Anxiety and Depression Association of America website. In 2025, she was named a semifinalist in the nonfiction category of the Tucson Festival of Books Literary Awards. She worked in Montessori preschools for many years and lives in Seattle with her husband of thirty years and beloved animals.

shigekoito.com

Since my son was little, he was so fidgety, hyperactive, and accident-prone that keeping up with his energy level was super challenging. When he was in the second grade, I suspected he might have ADHD. So I broached my concern to my husband, who immediately dismissed it, saying that he himself was just like that as a child. My acquiescence to this opinion delayed the diagnosis of my son’s ADHD until he was 17. My husband was never tested for it, but I’d likely been dealing with two ADHDers in my household for all these years. As for me, who knows—I certainly seem to have my share of ADDish (without H) moments. Getting myself assessed, however, is currently not high up on my to-do list.

I recognized that the root cause of my anxiety is complex trauma

During a particularly tough period in my son’s high school career back in 2016, I sought help from a psychiatrist, who diagnosed me with GAD (generalized anxiety disorder). Gaining more understanding of complex trauma over the past several years, I recognized that the root cause of my anxiety is complex trauma. The psychiatrist later agreed.

I wrote The Pond Beyond the Forest: A Memoir of Hope and Healing (due to be published in the fall of 2025), chronicling my struggles with motherhood, marriage, menopause, and mental health. I’d never heard of the term complex trauma until finishing the first draft of this book. It was eye-opening to learn how perfectly its definition captures my lifelong struggles and that my conditions had a name.

I can now see more clearly why that particular phase in my life seemed so overwhelmingly insurmountable

I recently also learned that the symptoms of ADHD (which my son has) and complex trauma (which I have) not only significantly overlap but also can co-occur and create a vicious cycle due to a bidirectional relationship, feeding off each other. Hypervigilance, for instance—one of the hallmark symptoms of complex trauma—mimics ADHD symptoms of hyperactivity, distractibility, and difficulty regulating emotions. Other overlapping symptoms include anxiety, depression, agitation, irritability, impulsivity, inattention, difficulty sleeping, et cetera. How these symptoms manifest can vary widely from person to person, ranging from mild to severe, depending on the interaction between genetics, environments, and stress levels. And let’s throw into the mix the hormonal imbalances of puberty and menopause. All these conditions are said to be influenced by impairment and dysfunction in the brain’s prefrontal cortex, disrupting executive functions and cognitive control. This may explain why they can be so hard to differentiate despite varied underlying causes when focusing solely on behaviors, which can lead to potential misdiagnoses.

I can now see more clearly why that particular phase in my life seemed so overwhelmingly insurmountable—why the experiences and interactions between my son, husband, and me had led to so many misunderstandings and entanglements, and I couldn’t seem to see the forest for the trees. Both my son and I were in the throes of (adolescent vs. menopausal) hormonal wackiness, which undoubtedly caused us to co-dysregulate and worsen our preexisting conditions. To add another layer of complexity, I also had to deal with cultural differences between Japan and America, especially regarding marriage and childrearing. No wonder things went haywire in our household, and I felt like I was going into a tailspin.

Growing up “motherless” with a narcissistic, emotionally immature mother who was often physically absent, the task of reparenting myself should have been an essential priority. But while being preoccupied with parenting my son (with no navigation tools) and trying to break a cycle of generational attachment trauma, I ended up neglecting myself all over again, and this time, sacrificing my marriage, too. I was extremely fortunate, though, to be able to turn the tide and repair the damage caused during this period and restore the relationships in my family.

Many different terms are used to refer to the phenomenon of early damage to the child, resulting in long-term repercussions on his/her/their overall physical, mental, and emotional health. Those closely related terms include complex trauma, complex post-traumatic stress disorder (CPTSD), developmental/attachment/relational trauma, childhood emotional neglect (CEN), and the Mother Wound. Experts in the field slice and package their knowledge differently and promote their recovery models and methods with their own talking points and frameworks. Still, they are all premised on one simple factor: Not being nurtured and cared for with loving attention in early life affects one’s brain development, leading to a myriad of subsequent issues.

Public awareness about the impact of trauma on children and adolescents is growing

It is encouraging that public awareness about the impact of trauma on children and adolescents is growing, which is great news considering how crucial the first several years of a child’s development play in laying the foundations for life. We need to keep raising awareness of how prolonged toxic stress in childhood can alter a child’s developing brain structurally and functionally. And whether a child experiences big “T” or little “t” trauma, without a felt sense of safety, the child’s fight-flight-freeze-fawn response may become constantly activated, possibly leading the child to stay stuck in survival mode.

With my book, I seek to bring to life an in-depth longitudinal case study of complex trauma by illuminating and illustrating:

1. The impact of early childhood and adolescence experiences.
2. How unhealed childhood trauma can negatively impact the closest relationships in adult life, especially as a parent.
3. Healing myself is the most critical piece in breaking a cycle of generational attachment trauma.

Writing my book cultivated greater self-awareness and helped me to heal much of my trauma. Still, I believe my healing journey is a lifelong process, like peeling a giant onion—just as I think I’ve got the hang of a certain situational trigger, life throws a monkey wrench, and I find myself struggling with it all over again. Though it sometimes feels like I’m back to square one, I can now see it as an opportunity to dig deeper and heal the wounds more each time.

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Shigeko Ito

Shigeko Ito grew up in Japan and immigrated to the United States to pursue higher education. She studied early childhood education, earning a PhD in Education from Stanford University. Drawing on cross-cultural experiences and academic expertise, she explores themes of trauma, resilience, and healing, with a particular focus on childhood emotional neglect. Her work has appeared on the CPTSD Foundation blog and the Anxiety and Depression Association of America website. In 2025, she was named a semifinalist in the nonfiction category of the Tucson Festival of Books Literary Awards. She worked in Montessori preschools for many years and lives in Seattle with her husband of thirty years and beloved animals.

shigekoito.com

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Shigeko Ito

Shigeko Ito grew up in Japan and immigrated to the United States to pursue higher education. She studied early childhood education, earning a PhD in Education from Stanford University. Drawing on cross-cultural experiences and academic expertise, she explores themes of trauma, resilience, and healing, with a particular focus on childhood emotional neglect. Her work has appeared on the CPTSD Foundation blog and the Anxiety and Depression Association of America website. In 2025, she was named a semifinalist in the nonfiction category of the Tucson Festival of Books Literary Awards. She worked in Montessori preschools for many years and lives in Seattle with her husband of thirty years and beloved animals.

shigekoito.com

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

Shigeko Ito

Shigeko Ito grew up in Japan and immigrated to the United States to pursue higher education. She studied early childhood education, earning a PhD in Education from Stanford University. Drawing on cross-cultural experiences and academic expertise, she explores themes of trauma, resilience, and healing, with a particular focus on childhood emotional neglect. Her work has appeared on the CPTSD Foundation blog and the Anxiety and Depression Association of America website. In 2025, she was named a semifinalist in the nonfiction category of the Tucson Festival of Books Literary Awards. She worked in Montessori preschools for many years and lives in Seattle with her husband of thirty years and beloved animals.

shigekoito.com