Growing Up in the Shadow of Loss: Trauma Behind the Illusion of Stability

Introduction

I was born on December 21, 1978, in Elizabeth, New Jersey. For the first 10 and half years of my life, I lived in the shadows of towering bridges and industry, surrounded by the sound of trains and traffic, and the weight of unspoken tensions. While Elizabeth was home, it was not a place of peace. My childhood was turbulent, shaped by emotional instability, uncertainty, and survival.

In 1989, my family left Elizabeth. What followed was a lifetime of movement. I have moved 29 times—not including the temporary housing and in-between places I can no longer even count. Each new place brought upheaval, another layer of instability that made it difficult to form lasting relationships or feel safe. By the time I reached adulthood, I had learned how to adapt—but at the cost of never truly feeling grounded.

The Cost of Constant Change

Studies show that frequent relocations in childhood can lead to academic struggles, anxiety, and depression. For me, this constant flux laid the groundwork for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)—a condition I didn’t understand until much later in life. I was a child living in survival mode, never sure when the next disruption would come, or when the next loss would occur.

When we settled in Southern Ocean County, NJ, I was surrounded by the appearance of stability. Southern Regional High School, where I graduated in 1996, was highly ranked, with excellent resources, low crime, and strong academic performance. From the outside, it looked like the perfect place to grow up. But trauma doesn’t care about zip codes. Beneath the surface, I carried the weight of fear, instability, and eventually, immense grief.

Loss Upon Loss: The Names I Carry

The first devastating loss came in 1994, when Nicole Trapanese, a kind classmate, passed in a drunk driving accident. Just a week before, she had lent me a quarter to call home. I promised I would thank her every day until she died—and I did, until her funeral. Her death shattered the illusion that life was predictable or safe.

Then came more:

• Lucas Godbolt, a classmate and brilliant artist, passed in a car crash.
• David Dodds, a classmate, also lost in an accident.
• Danyelle Morgenstern, passed in 2013 after a long illness.
• Robin Lennox, taken by a heart attack on January 31, 2012.
• Patrick Johns and Jason Posch, classmates whose memories remain with me.
• Tricia Griffin, survived a horrific crash on July 29, 1995, when a car slammed into trees at 120 mph.

Brian: My Love, My Anchor

In 2006, I reconnected with Brian Heck, my best friend from high school. We fell in love and built a life together, running Hard Core Nutrition from 2009–2019. Brian passed away on June 30, 2017, and with his death, my world crumbled. He was the one person who truly understood my past, my pain, and my heart. His loss broke me open—but also showed me what it meant to love fully.

After Brian’s passing, Stephanie Poulillo, a friend and coworker, covered my spin class at Tilton Fitness. She passed just three years later, on June 27, 2020, at only 25. We shared a birthday. She loved the “Elvis” shake—peanut butter and banana—from our store. Losing her felt like losing another part of myself.

Family Losses That Cut Deep

I was fortunate to grow up knowing both of my great-grandparents, Chester and Mildred Yess, who lived in Elizabeth, NJ. Their presence in my early life provided a rare and meaningful connection to family history and tradition. Chester passed away on June 11, 1996, and Mildred followed on June 21, 1999. Losing them was profound, not only because of the bond we shared, but also because it marked the end of a generational link that shaped my understanding of love, resilience, and legacy.

• My father, Alberto Jorge Jaime, passed October 16, 2016. Born in Cuba, he took over with my mother running Shore Sunrise "The Ride" with our family from 2006 until his death.
• My grandmother, Lucrecia “Cuca” Jaime, passed May 15, 2017.
• My grandfather, Alberto J. Jaime, passed March 24, 2005.
• Floyd D. Jackson Jr., my grandfather, passed October 14, 2009, in Rahway.
• Joan Jackson, my grandmother, passed February 11, 2016.
• Leslie Armitage Nebel, Brian’s aunt, passed August 27, 2016.
• Walter “Walt” Nebel, her husband, passed February 7, 2012.

Clients, Friends, and the Community I Served

Loss extended into my work life—through Shore Sunrise "The Ride" limousine service, Hard Core Nutrition a supplement store, both of which I owned and operated—and every job I’ve held, I’ve built relationships with clients, coworkers, and community members who became like family. Many of them are gone too.

• Shawn Kessler, friend and Southern Regional alum, died September 8, 2011, at 37.
• His brother, Michael Kessler, lost to cancer July 15, 2022.
• Kaitlyn Wilson, a client and customer, passed August 8, 2013, at 21.
• Alex Hoffman, Barnegat police officer and customer, died October 2, 2019.

There are more—people not named here, but never forgotten.

Experiencing so many losses over the course of my life has led to what professionals call cumulative grief—the kind that builds with each loss, never fully resolving before the next one arrives. In some cases, grief can become overwhelming and persistent, evolving into what is now recognized as complicated grief or prolonged grief disorder. These forms of grief can affect your ability to function, heal, and find peace.

For those who want to understand more about these experiences:
🔗 Learn about Cumulative Grief
🔗 Learn about Complicated (Prolonged) Grief

PTSD: The Silent Companion

All of these experiences—the turbulence of childhood, the instability, the loss—built up inside of me until I could no longer hide it. PTSD doesn’t always come from a single event—it can come from living in a constant state of fear, loss, and uncertainty.

For years, I struggled not only with the weight of trauma but with being misunderstood—even misdiagnosed. It is one thing to suffer; it is another to have that suffering labeled in ways that miss the truth of your experience. The process of reclaiming my own story has been painful, but it has also been liberating. I now know the root of my trauma, and I’m fighting every day to heal it properly.

In a community that seemed “perfect,” I carried the invisible weight of trauma. I learned to survive. To smile. To keep going. But inside, I was fighting a battle no one could see.

To better understand what PTSD is, how it can manifest, and how healing is possible, you can read more here:
🔗 What Is PTSD? – Mayo Clinic

This Is My Truth

I carry every name.
Brian, Nicole, Lucas, David, Danyelle, Robin, Stephanie, Kaitlyn, Shawn, Michael, Alex, my family, my clients, my friends—all of them.

I have made it through.
And I am still fighting to live.

This post is for them, for me, and for anyone who has felt unseen in their grief or trauma.

You are not alone. I remember. I carry you. I am healing. And I will never stop telling this story.

For those navigating a lifetime of losses, this resource offers insight into the long-term impact of grief and how healing is possible.

Dedication

This post is dedicated to every soul I have lost—through family, friendship, business, and community.

You shaped my life. You are remembered. You are loved.

And to those still here, fighting invisible battles—this is proof that survival is possible.

I see you. I am with you. And I am still fighting too.

For a personal and heartfelt reflection on grief and healing, I invite you to read this article.