Here is the Fear

How do I, as a descendant, hold my history and my pain?
When my mom was a young girl in Chimbote, Peru, she was diagnosed with something called “Susto,” translating literally to “Fear”. In western psychology we could surmise to be panic disorder, anxiety, depression, PTSD, etc;. My mom is a licensed psychotherapist now. My grandma, Angelita was the last person in my family to speak Quechua, but indigenous philosophies and medicines are common even outside of the mountains in Peru, passed down to the coast-line. All of this to say, my mom underwent several treatments given by the local shaman. One that has stuck with me was a guinea pig cleanse. A live guinea pig was rubbed along my moms body- think like a sage smudge or an egg cleanse. Once the guinea pig had absorbed my moms Susto, it was then cut open to reveal its insides. By looking at the organs, the shaman would be able to point out where in my moms body, as translated through the guinea pig, her fear lived. My mom doesn't remember where he pointed to, nor do I think she cares. Other treatments included wearing a rooster comb around her neck and sleeping with a squash called a secana.
I think about this immediate family history, readily shared with me, and I think about the stories lost to time. How long has this fear lived in my family, and how has everyone carried it?
I think about the last ancestor I have photo evidence of, and look in her face for it.
I think about ancient history, elites buried with golden gloves, and children sacrificed. I think about these Incan mummies a lot. Archeologists found traces of the medicinal plant coca used to sedate, and alcohol made out of purple corn called chicha used to intoxicate in the children’s bodies. Did they feel pride and honor? Maybe they felt nothing, if the substances worked well enough.
I think about myself as a privileged American, still holding on to that fear. I think of self-harm, of bleeding for something, for sacrifice, of antidepressants, SSRIs, beta-blockers, NDRIs, of therapy. I think of where in the guinea pig, as translated to my body, would my fear live? Does it become diluted through generations, does the fear go away? Does it get smaller or stay the same? Does it accumulate or dissipate? Am I hurting it or healing it? I am not sure, but I am trying to find out.