Healing Beyond Exams: A Mother’s Journey Through Trauma and Growth

I’d like to share a story that has been buried in my heart for years—one I’ve finally found the strength to tell. It’s about exams, but not just exams. It’s about the anxiety of a generation, the loneliness of a teenager, the awakening of a mother, and the possibility of healing.

Throughout high school, I lived under the shadow of insomnia triggered by academic stress. I didn’t know why—I only blamed myself, thinking I wasn’t working hard enough. This was the 1980s, and in China, the key word was “striving.” Everyone around me studied harder and harder, as if pushing yourself to the brink was the only way to be accepted. In that kind of atmosphere, I developed serious sleep issues. By the time college entrance exams rolled around, I was emotionally shattered. But as a minor, I had no idea what was happening to me—and no one around me did either.

It wasn’t until years later that I realized I had been suffering from test-related PTSD. From that point on, the word “exam”—especially “college entrance exam”—would instantly trigger anxiety, a racing heartbeat, and a wave of helplessness.

This trauma didn’t go away with time or distance. Even when I later studied in the UK and the US, exams remained my biggest hurdle. Others may have seen my academic background as impressive, but deep down I knew I never reached my full potential. I eventually convinced myself to accept it—“Maybe this is just my fate”—but inside, I carried the quiet sadness of a bird with broken wings.

When I became a mother, my protective instincts kicked into overdrive. Both of my kids were late bloomers academically, but I never pressured them about grades or rankings. Throughout their elementary years, we barely talked about tests. I chose a “test-free” approach to parenting—maybe as a way to heal my own past.

But then came 10th grade. My daughter had her first experience with high-stakes exams—three AP tests. She couldn’t sleep, just like I hadn’t back then. I told her, “It doesn’t matter if you pass or not. The important thing is that you go through the experience and learn that exams don’t define your future.” The night before the test, she asked to sleep beside me. My heart filled with emotion—because that’s exactly what I had wished I could ask my own mom.

I was afraid she’d fall into the same trap I did, haunted by anxiety over scores. But something amazing happened—she got a perfect score of 5 on all three AP exams. She let out a breath of relief, and I told her, “See? Exams aren’t such a big deal.” From that point on, she stopped losing sleep over tests. I watched her grow steadily in confidence, and when she graduated high school—with her brother—both had GPAs of 4.5 and SAT scores of 1500. They were like two beams of light guiding me out of my own shadowy past.

Watching my children thrive and outgrow their fears helped loosen the grip of mine. Two years ago, I decided to face my exam trauma head-on by studying for the California insurance license. It was my final challenge to the ghosts of my past. Thankfully, I passed the eligibility screening within three weeks. To feel more in control, I chose to take the test at home—and even prepared sleeping pills just in case.

On test day, I passed with flying colors. For the first time, I felt like that long-standing shadow had finally lifted. Not because I was smarter, but because along this journey, my children’s quiet support and personal growth helped me experience deep, emotional healing.

Today, I’m no longer afraid of challenges. In fact, I often approach them more energetically than my kids. I tell them, “I’ll always support you, but I’ll never pressure you. Your life belongs to you. I just hope you understand your strengths and weaknesses, steer away from the traps you’re not built for, and give your all to the things you’re meant to do.”

And I tell myself the same thing.

True healing, I’ve come to realize, isn’t just about changing how we think. It’s about love flowing through generations. It’s about letting go—so that the next generation doesn’t have to carry what we couldn't put down.

This is my story. Maybe, it’s part of yours too.

Over the past forty years, I have gone through some of the most intense struggles with anxiety and depression. I once suffered from severe social phobia and even lost the ability to care for myself in daily life. It was a long, painful journey filled with hardship and loneliness. But I choose to share this experience now, in the hope that it might bring a glimmer of hope to those still finding their way through the dark.

Of course, this is just my personal story. I offer it as a humble beginning, hoping to encourage more people to open up and share their own journeys. Because I truly believe that even in the darkest valleys—there is still light, and hope can still be found.