Happy traumaversary! Tips on dealing with 'the anniversary effect'

Yearly reminders of the worst day of your life are fun!

An audio version of this article (by me!) is available below:

There you are, opening your calendar for some innocuous reason when that date smacks you in the face. Or maybe your phone – bless its heart – creates a merry little montage of pics from that ‘special’ time which plays automatically. Thanks for the gallery of gut-wrenching horror, phone!

Traumaversaries – anniversaries of traumatic events or just generally shitty times – can trigger ‘the anniversary effect’: unsettling thoughts, feelings, and memories tied to a specific date. Often linked to PTSD but affecting anyone, you might feel low, anxious, irritable, or even physically ill as the date looms. You may have mad dreams or struggle to be present – or maybe you’ll experience none of that, but simply be hyperaware of the date, pulsing in your calendar like a mosquito bite begging to be scratched.

Trauma is often stored in a sensory and emotional way rather than logical or linear. You could be scrolling TikTok when BAM! A certain post catapults you back. Your body reacts as if it’s happening right now – instigating fight, flight or freeze – because it’s trying to protect you, even though erasing the past is somewhat tricky (I’ve tried). It’s also trying to stop it from happening again by putting you on high alert for ‘dangers’, even when said danger might be impossible to control or foresee.

As a traumaversary nears, your body can start prepping you – even if you’re unaware of the date. It recognises the time from environment cues, circadian rhythms, and recurring social events. Your body’s WARNING electrics fire up, making you feel rattled. Next, welcome the triggers: sensory (a whiff of familiar aftershave, seeing a specific place), situational (getting stuck in a lift, seeing someone in uniform), social (a weird hug, raised voices), and media (TV reports on a similar event, Insta reels about a similar thing).

Time Travelling

On March 28, it’ll be exactly one year since I was diagnosed with Stage 3 colon cancer after 18 months of being ‘mysteriously’ sick. That diagnosis launched me into surgeries, chemo, and one million cannula insertions (I counted). I had also just given birth, so my partner, Koen, had to care for both me and our newborn son, Billy, with the help of incredible friends and family.

Perhaps your traumaversary is also a medical diagnosis, maybe a breakup, a death, an assault, an environmental disaster, an accident, or something deeply personal that shifted your sense of self. Maybe you’ve got loads. (I do! Whoop! Yeah! Don’t try to trauma Top Trumps me!) Traumaversaries don’t have to be ‘big’, though. There’s no threshold of suffering, no sliding scale of fucked-up-ness that qualifies you to feel crappy on a certain date. If it aches, welcome to the traumaversary club. There’s a beige buffet in the corner – save me some bitterballen.

---

Thanks so much for supporting my work. If you enjoy what you read/listen to and would like to buy me a coffee, I would really appreciate it.

---

Trauma can linger emotionally, physically, financially, professionally and geographically. Maybe it forced you to move, lose friends, or abandon life plans. Maybe nothing visible changed at all, which can be just as wounding – the world seemingly unmoved by your internal distress. External changes can validate emotional scars: proof you can point to rather than just gesturing vaguely to your chest where your broken heart lives.

Handling a traumaversary

My cancer therapist suggests counteracting them by creating new, positive anniversaries. This week, I went for my first run since June 2023. Running was a huge part of my identity before cancer, and at one point I thought I’d never run again. That glorious first run – 1.5km of wheezing like Muttley – is now marked in my diary. I’m proud of it.

Giving progress the same weight as pain can restore a sense of control. You can’t stop traumaversaries, but you can bookend them with positive dates – things you’ve wanted to do but couldn’t. Maybe it’s attending a class, applying for a job, going on a date, or getting a tattoo. Acknowledging these achievements helps build self-worth. Just writing them in your calendar will be a big deal for those with battered self-esteem.

You can also send future-you messages. (Bear with me here.) During my divorce, I wished I could fast-forward grief, but since time travel wasn’t an option (fuck you, eBay Dave and your so-called ‘time machine’), I scheduled messages instead. Things like, “Hi! You made it!” or “You’re doing much better than you thought”. These weren’t anniversaries as such, but helped soothe big ‘firsts’ like my first solo Christmas. They became proof that healing happens, even when it feels impossible.

Plan Ahead

You might not know how a traumaversary will hit you, so carve out space for yourself to just be. You might reflect on progress, message those who supported you, or just feel like total shit – and that’s okay. I’m a firm believer in not always playing the glad game – sadness and anger can’t be smothered. Acknowledging them makes them pass quicker. However, even if you think you’ll want to be alone, it’s worth telling loved ones the date is coming up so they know to check in on you, expect your call, or hold off on leaving that 20 minute voice note rant about their boss.

Consider cutting down on any media – news, social media, TV shows, podcasts, etc. – that might touch a nerve. Scrolling can be a minefield when you don’t know what’s coming next. Finding relief in routine can also help. Always doing the same thing – whether it directly relates to the event or not – can feel like a quiet acknowledgement that it mattered both then and now.

Or maybe you won’t mark the day at all. Maybe it’ll just be another Tuesday. Maybe the thought will cross your mind, stay for a moment, and then fly away. That, too, has its own magic.

Just One More Thing

Actually two things. Firstly, it’s never too late to seek counselling if you’re struggling. Trauma healing has no timeline and there’s no scale of worthiness.

Secondly, I take comfort in knowing a stranger somewhere will also be marking that date. I don’t mean ‘misery loves company’ (although it bloody does) – I mean that I find peace in knowing we’re never alone in our feelings. Someone will be feeling just as I am – and someone else will be feeling totally the opposite. On the day I received my diagnosis, someone else will have been given the all-clear. There’s a strange beauty in that. I’ve marked my own all-clear date in my diary, and when it comes, I’ll celebrate it, knowing that life is happening hard and fast to everyone, ferociously, all the time.

---

*Exceedingly modest reminder that I have written eight bestselling mental-health books which have been translated into dozens of languages. I’ve also written a book about the TV show Friends which would make a delightful gift for any Friends obsessives. All are available to buy online or at your local bookshop.