Many of us march through our lives blissfully convinced of our free will–of our unquestionable freedom of choice, of thought and action.

This conception is natural: our innate ability to think, then do, appears to act as undeniable evidence. When one makes a decision or concocts a plan, they needn’t consult anyone: the idea exists solely in their mind, a fact which appears to firmly prove our psychological autonomy. But what if the very medium that persuades us of our free will — our own body, our “self” — is silently stabbing us in the back? What if our perceived autonomy over our “self” is a mere illusion? Indeed, hallmark breakthroughs in neuroscience have increasingly suggested that our childhood and past experiences are strongly indicative of our future decisions, defying our quintessential notion of free will. Yet beneath the rubble of trauma that confines us to the past, lies a lingering sapling of resilience that, if nurtured, penetrates into the future.

Since birth, every moment in our lives has progressed in an inherently sequential manner. We certainly had no free will over the family we were born into; we came into the world a mere seedling, thrown into an arbitrary plot of soil, and left to grow in whatever conditions we were given. Pristinely tended, fertilized soil is more likely to turn out a stronger, healthier plant than dry soil. In a similar fashion, we are, on some level, a product of our upbringing, of the environment that helped to — or failed to — feed us nutrients, nurture us through love, and nourish us with knowledge and wisdom.

This premise goes beyond mere philosophical conjecture; researchers increasingly have begun to unravel the scientific repercussions of one’s childhood on their present self. Adverse childhood experiences alter one’s brain structure, negatively impacting decision-making, according to a study published by the Journal of Affective Disorders. As a testament to this, the CDC found that those who endure extensive childhood trauma and abuse are up to twelve times more likely to attempt suicide, and four times more likely to develop depression in adulthood.

Our free will, therefore, contends with the experiences that shape us, conditions that we have little control over. No matter how much space, both geographical and psychological, we carve out between the past and the present, we remain  victims of its influence, forever nestled in the back of our minds, silently whispering into our psyches the very views and memories we tried so desperately to smother. For some, this psychological guest is a benevolent one, woven from a childhood punctuated by love and warmth. Yet, for others, it is a parasite that malevolently gnaws at their happiness, their fulfillment, forever imprisoning them within the trauma that birthed it. A study exploring the effects of childhood maltreatment, published in Nature Reviews Neuroscience, concluded that one’s brain forges “optimally sculpted neural representations to guide future actions” based on one’s adverse past experience. The paper explains that this phenomenon embodies an inevitable consequence of being human; welding our future decisions from previous experiences is an integral survival instinct, even when our past bears little resemblance to the present.

Consider how this penetrates even the seemingly mundane facets of our lives: a child raised in a household that weaponized love as currency might grow into an adult who, subconsciously, withholds love from their partner, perpetually teetering on the precipice of abandonment. Their perceived “choice” to maintain emotional distance is less a conscious decision and more a lingering, vile chord reverberating from their childhood. Another adult might compulsively hoard resources— food, money, or material possessions—despite living in abundance, desperately compensating for the gaping scarcity of resources that plagued their childhood. In a study analyzing the correlation between childhood trauma and hoarding, published by the Journal of Obsessive-Compulsive and Related Disorders, the authors find that “emotional abuse and physical neglect predicted hoarding symptoms.”

Even those fears and desires that we nestle away so deeply — the things that we consider, unequivocally, “us” — are merely emotional manifestations of our past experiences. For example, an ambitious CEO who rose from rags to riches is perhaps more motivated by the prospect of escaping the ghost of childhood poverty than that of wealth and recognition. Financial psychologist Brad Klontz’s work serves as a testament to this phenomenon, attributing the core symptom of this so-called “money-worship” to childhood trauma. On an analogous note, take a lifelong perfectionist, whose idyllic pursuit of control over every aspect of their lives might be a subconscious effort to counteract the chaos and lack of control that engulfed their past. Thus, our past paves neurological pathways that limit us to predefined motives and aspirations, ones that either soulfully interweave with a love-infused childhood, or steer us as far as possible from a trauma-ridden one.

One’s identity — their true “self” — is partially a reflection of these deeper motivations, forged in a tight embrace around these desires so as to best nurture them to fruition. Neuroscience increasingly validates this notion: numerous studies, such as one published in 2017 by the Clinical Psychology Review, reveal that childhood trauma rewires neural circuits, with brain scans showing altered connectivity in regions governing emotional regulation and self-perception.⁶ This biological reshaping runs so deep that researchers at McGill University discovered childhood adversity can modify DNA methylation patterns—literally changing how our genes express themselves, affecting everything from stress response to the formation of personality traits.⁷ Can it be the case, then, that we fail to enjoy free rein even over our own bodies? The above evidence points to this very suspicion.

Surely not, one might protest. Surely the wondrous and equally mysterious thing that is human consciousness allows one to emancipate themselves from the very past that defines their present, erase the definition of their “self” and start anew — a blank slate. The beauty of the human race, one of the traits that most separates us from other species, is our neuroplasticity: our ability to grow from hardship, to build ourselves back up from ruins, and to unwaveringly mold ourselves into beautifully unique sculptures. Perhaps part of us remains forever tethered to our past experiences . . . but so what? This singular part of our “self” is just that: a part. Denying this fact merely lets this part fester like a cancer, infiltrating our entire being, but embracing it empowers us to grow, to rise from the ashes, stronger.

Sources:

Coutu, Marie-France. “Childhood Trauma Has Life-Long Effect on Genes and the Brain.” McGill University Newsroom, 22 Feb. 2009, https://www.mcgill.ca/newsroom/channels/news/childhood-trauma-has-life-long-effect-genes-and-brain-104667.

Cross, Dorthie, et al. “Neurobiological Development in the Context of Childhood Trauma.” Clinical Psychology: Science and Practice, vol. 24, no. 2, June 2017, pp. 111–24, https://doi.org/10.1111/cpsp.12198.

Exley, Robert, Jr. “Americans Now Use One-Third of Their Budget to Pay off Debt. ‘Money Disorders’ May Be to Blame.” CNBC, 26 Oct. 2019, https://www.cnbc.com/2019/10/26/money-disorders-and-debt-can-come-from-anxiety-depression-or-trauma.html.

Felitti, Vincent J., MD, FACP, et al. “Relationship of Childhood Abuse and Household Dysfunction to Many of the Leading Causes of Death in Adults.” American Journal of Preventive Medicine, vol. 14, no. 4, May 1998, pp. 245–58, https://doi.org/10.1016/s0749-3797(98)00017-8.

Kehoe, Elizabeth, and Jonathan Egan. “Interpersonal Attachment Insecurity and Emotional Attachment to Possessions Partly Mediate the Relationship between Childhood Trauma and Hoarding Symptoms in a Non-Clinical Sample.” Journal of Obsessive-Compulsive and Related Disorders, vol. 21, Apr. 2019, pp. 37–45, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jocrd.2018.12.001.

Larsen, Emmett M., et al. “Effects of Childhood Trauma on Adult Moral Decision-Making: Clinical Correlates and Insights from Bipolar Disorder.” Journal of Affective Disorders, vol. 244, Feb. 2019, pp. 180–86, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jad.2018.10.002.

Teicher, Martin H., et al. “The Effects of Childhood Maltreatment on Brain Structure, Function and Connectivity.” Nature Reviews Neuroscience, vol. 17, no. 10, Sept. 2016, pp. 652–66, https://doi.org/10.1038/nrn.2016.111.