“Why does my body still feel ‘broken’ years after my traumatic experience?”

Before we begin, I want to reassure you that while this article discusses how trauma affects your body, it also offers practical, actionable steps to help with healing. This article will explore how trauma rewires your body, why these changes happen, and how to work with—not against—them. Some of what you read may feel personally concerning or frustrating, so please take breaks as needed and try to stay grounded. Remember that understanding these changes is the first step toward addressing them.

Important Note:
This article is intended for educational and self-help purposes. While it reflects current understandings of trauma and its physical impacts, it is not a substitute for personalized medical or mental health care. If you’re experiencing significant or distressing symptoms, please seek evaluation from a licensed healthcare provider. Self-diagnosis can sometimes lead to unnecessary anxiety or missed medical conditions, so consider this article a companion to—not a replacement for—professional support.

Ash’s Story

Ash stared at their reflection in the bathroom mirror, barely recognizing the person looking back at them. Three years had passed since they discovered their partner’s betrayal and left the marriage that had nearly destroyed them. But the stranger in the mirror still carried the physical imprints of that trauma—and of the years of subtle narcissistic abuse from their family of origin before that. They also carried deeper imprints from childhood medical trauma, having spent months in the NICU as a premature infant, their tiny body subjected to necessary but painful procedures before they had words to understand them.

Their skin seemed different somehow. Their digestion was unpredictable. They caught every cold that came around. And sometimes, they swore their body even smelled different than it used to, especially when they were stressed. Despite therapy and emotional healing work, their body still didn’t feel like home.

“Why can’t I just get over this?” they wondered, the same question that haunted them daily. Their mind knew they were safe now, but their body hadn’t gotten the memo. It continued to operate as if danger lurked around every corner.

Complicating matters further was the fact that their ex-partner continued to send harassing texts and emails, each one like a floating ember that threatened to reignite the trauma response they were working so hard to calm. Complete safety remained elusive, even as they built a new life. And with two young children to parent—including their five-year-old who needed extra support for sensory processing challenges—Ash rarely had moments of true calm to focus on their own healing.

What Ash didn’t yet understand was that their body wasn’t broken—it was adapting. Like a forest after a wildfire, their body’s systems had transformed in response to threat. And just as forests eventually recover—sometimes with even greater diversity than before—their body held the capacity to heal, even if it would never be exactly the same.

Note to readers: This article is written with both accessible everyday language and more detailed clinical information. The clinical sections are in italics and marked as “Optional Deep Dive.” You can skip these sections and still understand all the main points of the article. This structure allows you to engage with the information in a way that works best for you, especially if reading about these topics feels overwhelming.

Neurodivergence & Trauma: Important Intersections

Before diving into the main content, it’s important to acknowledge that neurodivergent individuals (those with autism, ADHD, sensory processing differences, etc.) may experience trauma and its physical effects somewhat differently. The inherent sensory sensitivities and emotional regulation differences in neurodivergent people can sometimes make it difficult to distinguish between trauma responses and neurodivergent traits, or in some cases, when it’s both.

For example, sensory overload in an autistic person may look similar to hypervigilance from trauma, while ADHD emotional dysregulation might resemble trauma-triggered emotional flooding. For example, an autistic person forced to mask their traits may develop trauma responses to social situations, while an ADHDer punished for impulsivity may associate shame with normal energy fluctuations. If you’re neurodivergent and have experienced trauma, understanding these intersections can be crucial to your healing journey. Working with practitioners who understand both trauma and neurodivergence can help untangle these overlapping experiences.

Important note: Neurodivergence itself isn’t traumatic. Trauma arises when neurodivergent traits are stigmatized, punished, or forced into conformity. Many neurodivergent survivors carry wounds from being told their natural ways of thinking, moving, or sensing were ‘wrong’ – not from being neurodivergent itself.

Throughout this article, we’ll note some specific considerations for neurodivergent individuals where relevant, though everyone’s experience is unique regardless of neurotype.

When Your Body Becomes a Stranger: The Disconnect of Trauma

One of the most distressing physical effects of trauma is the profound sense of disconnection from your own body. Many survivors report feeling uncomfortable in their own skin, no longer recognizing or trusting the body that houses them. This experience—known as somatic disconnection—can range from mild detachment to profound experiences where your body feels alien or unreal (depersonalization).

This bodily alienation isn’t just an emotional experience—it’s a physical adaptation to overwhelming events. When trauma occurs, especially repeated trauma, many survivors learn to tune out physical sensations as a way to survive. Pain, hunger, fatigue, even emotions with physical components (like the tight chest of anxiety or the heaviness of grief)—all these signals become background noise to be ignored to keep functioning. This body disconnection serves a protective purpose during trauma but often continues long after the danger has passed.

The trauma disrupts your awareness of your body’s internal state (interoception), creating a profound disconnect. You may struggle to identify basic physical sensations or needs. This often accompanies a difficulty identifying and expressing feelings (alexithymia) as the mind and body lose their natural connection.

Over time, this disconnection creates a cycle: your body sends signals, you don’t listen because you’ve been conditioned not to, so your body “speaks louder” through intensifying symptoms. Eventually, your body may even force you to stop by “giving out” completely—perhaps through illness, collapse, or a health crisis that prevents you from continuing to push forward. Often, these physical shutdowns happen right before or during important events or opportunities, which can feel like your body is sabotaging you. But from your body’s perspective, it’s been trying to get your attention for a long time, and this is its last-resort communication method.

Your body may seem like it’s betraying you, while from the body’s perspective, you betrayed it first by ignoring its warnings and needs. This perception of the body as an enemy often begins in childhood for many trauma survivors, especially when caregivers dismissed, punished, or ignored expressions of physical needs or discomfort. When a child learns that hunger, pain, or exhaustion will be met with dismissal or criticism, disconnecting from these sensations becomes a survival strategy. This also manifests from early life medical procedures where the child doesn’t understand the help or necessity, only their helplessness and pain.

“Why should my body trust me?” Ash had wondered during a therapy session. “I ignored its signals for years. I pushed through exhaustion, dismissed pain, pretended I wasn’t hungry or scared or angry when I was. I treated my body like an enemy, so now it acts like one.”

Breaking this cycle begins with recognition: your body isn’t your enemy. It’s a faithful ally that has been trying to protect you all along, even when its methods became counterproductive.

Hope Note: Reconnection with your body is possible. The path back to safe embodiment involves gentle inquisitiveness, compassion, and gradually learning to hear and respond to your body’s signals instead of overriding them.

How Trauma Hijacks Your Body’s Natural Systems

When a forest faces the threat of fire, everything changes. Plants that once focused energy on growth now divert resources to survival mechanisms. Some trees seal their bark, others release seeds that only germinate after intense heat. Animals flee or burrow deeply. The entire ecosystem shifts into survival mode, with every organism’s priorities fundamentally altered by the presence of threat.

Your body responds to trauma in a similar way. Systems that once maintained general well-being and growth shift toward hypervigilance and protection. Functions needed for immediate survival receive extra resources, while those deemed non-essential during crisis receive less. This isn’t a malfunction—it’s your body working exactly as designed when facing overwhelming stress, particularly from someone you trusted.

Think of trauma as an environmental shift that forces your body’s ecosystem to adapt for survival. Much like certain plant species dominate after a forest fire while others recede, trauma causes some bodily systems to become hyperactive while others become quiet. After a forest fire, species that can quickly take advantage of newly opened space and increased sunlight—like fireweed and certain pine trees with fire-activated seeds—flourish first. These “pioneer species” stabilize the soil and create conditions for the next wave of forest recovery. Similarly, your body’s stress response systems quickly activate to protect you, while growth and restoration systems temporarily recede.

The systems that get sacrificed first are those that aren’t immediately necessary for survival—like digestive efficiency, reproductive function, and tissue repair mechanisms. These changes aren’t “just in your head” or signs of weakness—they’re sophisticated biological adaptations that helped you survive.

Hope Note: Your body’s changes aren’t permanent sentences, though they can feel overwhelming. The same adaptability that helped you survive can be redirected toward healing. Recovery isn’t about “erasing” these changes but about understanding them and creating new patterns of safety that allow your body to gradually shift out of survival mode.

Optional Deep Dive: Trauma-Induced Systemic Dysregulation

These systemic changes can be understood as Trauma-Induced Systemic Dysregulation (TISD). This involves disruption of your body’s essential regulatory systems, including the autonomic nervous system, hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal (HPA) axis, immune function, and gut-brain communication pathways. These systems normally work in harmony to maintain equilibrium (homeostasis), but trauma forces them into persistent survival patterns that gradually deplete your physical and mental resources—this accumulating wear and tear on the body from chronic stress is known as ‘allostatic load.’

The dysregulation is particularly profound with developmental trauma (childhood abuse, neglect, or medical trauma occurring from birth to age 18) and attachment trauma (betrayal by caregivers during childhood or by intimate partners in adulthood). Examples of betrayal by caregivers include physical or emotional abandonment, consistent failure to meet basic needs, abuse, or using a child to meet the caregiver’s emotional needs. Partner betrayal might include infidelity, financial deception, emotional manipulation, abandonment during crisis, or abuse. Each body system adapts to protect you during these betrayals, but these adaptations come at a metabolic and physical cost when maintained long-term.

Key Takeaway: Your body’s systems aren’t malfunctioning—they’re still in “survival mode” even though the danger has passed. Or, maybe the danger hasn’t fully passed. Understanding this is the first step toward healing.

How Trauma Changes Your Body: From Most Noticeable to Most Hidden

Before we explore these changes in detail, let me clarify a few terms that you’ll encounter in this article. When I mention “betrayal trauma,” I’m referring to harm caused by someone you depended on and trusted deeply—like a parent, caregiver, intimate partner, or close family member. This violation of trust creates unique wounds because the person meant to provide safety became a source of danger, leaving your nervous system confused about where to turn for security.

“Narcissistic abuse” refers to a pattern of manipulation, control, and emotional harm perpetrated by someone with narcissistic traits. This often includes tactics like gaslighting (making you question your reality), intermittent reinforcement (unpredictable cycles of reward and punishment), isolation from support systems, and emotional invalidation. This type of abuse is particularly damaging because it targets your sense of self and reality.

1. Nervous System on High Alert: Why You Can’t Just “Relax”

What You Might Notice:

• Feeling jumpy or startled easily
• Racing heart, even when “nothing’s happening”
• Trouble sleeping despite exhaustion
• Tension in your shoulders, jaw, or back that won’t release
• Difficulty feeling safe even in secure environments
• People-pleasing behaviors that seem automatic (the “fawn” response)

When you experience betrayal trauma or narcissistic abuse, your nervous system rewires itself to prioritize survival. What feels like anxiety is actually your body trying to protect you by staying vigilant. The problem isn’t that your body is overreacting—it’s that it got trained by trauma to see danger everywhere.

Imagine a smoke alarm that was exposed to so many house fires it now rings at the slightest hint of warmth. That’s your nervous system after trauma—it’s doing its job, just with a much lower threshold for detecting threats.

The “fawn response” deserves special mention here because many trauma survivors don’t recognize it as a survival response. Fawning refers to automatically appeasing, people-pleasing, or accommodating others, especially in situations of perceived threat. This might look like agreeing when you don’t actually agree, putting others’ needs before your own even when it harms you, difficulty saying no, or compulsively caretaking others. If you often find yourself abandoning your own needs to keep others happy, particularly when you sense conflict or disapproval, you might be experiencing the fawn response—a survival strategy your nervous system adopted to keep you safe in environments where having boundaries or expressing needs was dangerous.

Recovery Path: Your nervous system can gradually learn to recognize moments of relative safety. This isn’t about forcing yourself to relax, but rather gently helping your body distinguish between times of active threat and times when the danger is temporarily lessened or not immediately present. Even if complete safety isn’t achievable yet, your nervous system can develop more flexibility in how it responds to different situations.

Simple Approaches:

• Diaphragmatic breathing: Place one hand on your chest and one on your belly. Breathe so that your belly hand rises more than your chest hand. This signals safety to your nervous system.
• Humming, singing, or gargling: These activities stimulate your vagus nerve, which helps regulate your stress response. Even just 1-2 minutes, 2-3 times daily can be beneficial. Consistency matters more than duration.
• Progressive muscle relaxation: Tense each muscle group for 5-10 seconds, then release completely and allow 15-20 seconds to notice the sensation of relaxation before moving to the next muscle group. Start from your toes and work up to your head. This technique helps by creating contrast—when you deliberately tense a muscle and then release it, the release often goes deeper than your default “relaxed” state, which may actually be carrying significant tension. This contrast helps your nervous system recognize what genuine relaxation feels like, even if you’re chronically tense. If deliberately tensing feels triggering, you can modify by simply focusing your attention on each muscle group and inviting it to soften without the tensing step.

It’s important to understand that both your sympathetic (“fight-or-flight”) and parasympathetic (“rest-and-digest”) nervous systems are essential for health. You can remember which is which with “S is for Stress and for Sympathetic.” The sympathetic system activates your body for action and protection, while the parasympathetic system promotes recovery, healing, and calm. Neither is “bad”—you need both to survive and thrive. The problem after trauma isn’t having a sympathetic nervous system; it’s that it stays activated too much and too often, while your parasympathetic system struggles to engage when it’s safe to rest.

Optional Deep Dive: Nervous System Changes

Trauma disrupts the balance between your sympathetic (“fight-or-flight”) and parasympathetic (“rest-and-digest”) nervous systems. In narcissistic abuse survivors, the body often gets stuck in sympathetic dominance (chronic activation of the stress response) or in a freeze state of parasympathetic shutdown (collapse, numbing, disconnection). This dysregulation can be measured through tests like Heart Rate Variability (HRV), which quantifies how flexibly your heart responds to changing conditions—lower HRV indicates a more rigid, stress-dominated system.

The fawn response—a people-pleasing, appeasing reaction to perceived threat—is particularly common in relational trauma survivors and correlates with low vagal tone (reduced parasympathetic nervous system activity). This response often develops in childhood when a child learns that safety depends on anticipating and meeting the needs of unpredictable caregivers.

Key Takeaway: Your hypervigilance isn’t psychological weakness—it’s physical evidence of how hard your nervous system worked to keep you safe during trauma.

2. Your Body’s Chemistry: Why You Might Smell and Feel Different

What You Might Notice:

• Body odor that seems different than before your trauma
• Breaking into a sweat when around your abuser or encountering trauma triggers
• Excessive sweating or changes in sweating patterns
• Skin that seems more reactive or sensitive
• Temperature fluctuations—feeling too hot or too cold
• Blushing or flushing (reddening of the skin) more easily
• Changes in breath odor
• Different taste in your mouth
• Changes in how your urine or stool smells
• Altered fingernail or hair texture/strength

If you’ve noticed that your body seems to produce different smells since your trauma, you’re not imagining it. Chronic stress and trauma actually change the chemical composition of your sweat and other bodily secretions. This happens because stress hormones affect many sweat glands throughout your body, not just those in your armpits and groin. These changes alter what your body secretes and how bacteria on your skin process these secretions.

Even more interestingly, trauma can alter both your body chemistry AND your perception of smell. Your sense of smell becomes rewired, potentially making you more sensitive to certain odors, especially those associated with threat or trauma memories. These smell associations vary from person to person based on your specific trauma experiences—there’s no universal set of smells that affect all trauma survivors the same way.

The sudden sweating response when you encounter your abuser or a trauma trigger is a normal protective response—your body remembers the threat before your conscious mind does, activating the “fight-or-flight” response. This “fear sweat” serves a biological purpose, though it can feel embarrassing or intrusive in social situations.

Recovery Path: While some body chemistry changes may persist, supporting your overall stress response system can help normalize these patterns over time.

Simple Approaches:

• Regular, gentle movement to help process stress hormones
• Mindful hygiene: Use personal care products without harsh chemicals, synthetic fragrances, parabens, phthalates, or other potential irritants. Look for “fragrance-free” rather than just “unscented”
• Natural fabrics that allow your skin to breathe (cotton, linen, bamboo, silk, hemp)
• Calming techniques before situations where you might encounter triggers (these will be discussed in more detail later in the article)
• Acknowledge the change rather than fighting it—your body is telling its story

Optional Deep Dive: Body Chemistry Changes

Trauma can affect the body’s stress response systems, which may influence sweat production and body odor. Here’s what some survivors report and what emerging science explores:

Stress Hormones and Sweat: When the body is under chronic stress (like after trauma), stress hormones can change sweat composition. Some people notice their sweat smells stronger or different during periods of anxiety or flashbacks.

The “Fear Sweat” Phenomenon: Preliminary research suggests that stress-induced sweat (sometimes called “fear sweat”) may have a distinct odor compared to sweat from exercise or heat. This could be due to shifts in skin bacteria that break down sweat compounds differently.

Gut-Skin Connection: Trauma’s impact on gut health might indirectly affect body odor. If the gut becomes more permeable (a common issue in chronic stress), certain byproducts can enter circulation and be released through sweat, potentially altering scent.

Brain Changes and Scent Perception: Trauma can heighten sensitivity to smells—especially those linked to past threats. Some survivors report being acutely aware of their own body odor or reacting strongly to scents tied to traumatic memories.

Important Considerations

While these patterns are observed anecdotally and in early research, individual experiences vary widely. No long-term studies have tracked how body odor changes throughout trauma recovery. Factors like diet, hygiene, and genetics also play major roles.

Key Takeaway: The changes in your body odor and sweat patterns are direct physical evidence of how stress hormones have affected your body’s chemistry—not a sign of poor hygiene or health.

3. The Gut-Brain Highway: Your Second Brain Under Stress

What You Might Notice:

• Digestive issues that appear or worsen after trauma (IBS, bloating, constipation, diarrhea)
• Food sensitivities that you didn’t have before
• Digestive upset in response to stress or triggers
• Cravings for comfort foods, sugar, or carbs
• Feeling nauseous in triggering situations

The gut has often been called our “second brain,” containing more nerve cells than your spinal cord and producing many of the same neurotransmitters as your brain. Trauma profoundly disrupts the communication between your gut and brain, changing everything from digestion to how you process emotions.

Your gut microbiome—the ecosystem of bacteria in your digestive system—plays a crucial role in your overall health, including mood regulation and immune function. After trauma, especially early childhood trauma during critical developmental windows (ages 0-3 years), this ecosystem can become significantly altered long term.

Many survivors wonder if these gut changes can be fully reversed. The answer is nuanced but hopeful. Your gut microbiome is highly adaptable even in adulthood, and while early-life trauma can leave lasting fingerprints on your gut ecosystem, significant healing is absolutely possible.

Early childhood trauma can permanently alter the diversity of microbial species, disrupt the training of your immune system, and change gut-brain axis wiring. While some of these changes may persist, your body has remarkable ways of compensating. Even if your microbiome never exactly matches what it might have been without trauma, it can still achieve a new, healthy equilibrium that supports your wellbeing.

Recovery Path: The gut microbiome can be one of the faster systems to respond to healing interventions, often showing improvements within weeks to months, though deeper healing may take longer.

Simple Approaches:

• Trauma-sensitive eating: Focus on nourishment rather than restrictive diets
• Probiotic foods: Yogurt, kefir, sauerkraut, kimchi, and kombucha support healthy gut bacteria
• Fiber-rich foods: Feed beneficial bacteria with vegetables, fruits, and whole grains
• Reduce gut disruptors: Minimize artificial sweeteners, excessive alcohol, and unnecessary antibiotics
• Stress management before meals: Taking a few deep breaths before eating improves digestion

Specific Probiotic Guidance:

• Look for multi-strain products containing Lactobacillus and Bifidobacterium species
• Aim for products with 10-30 billion CFUs (colony forming units)
• Check for strain specificity (e.g., Lactobacillus rhamnosus GG, Bifidobacterium longum 1714, Lactobacillus acidophilus NCFM, Bifidobacterium lactis Bi-07)
• Some require refrigeration (check label), but shelf-stable options can be effective too
• Take with meals for best absorption and protection from stomach acid
• Avoid taking within 2 hours of antibiotics or with strong antimicrobials like oregano oil
• Activated charcoal can bind to and reduce the effectiveness of probiotics, so separate them by at least 2 hours
• Rotating different products every few months may provide broader benefits
• Imported products may have reduced potency if irradiated during import, so check for domestic manufacturing or special shipping methods

Optional Deep Dive: Gut Microbiome and Trauma

Emerging science suggests a strong connection between trauma, stress, and gut health. Many people with PTSD or complex trauma report digestive issues, food sensitivities, or imbalances in gut bacteria. Some animal studies suggest that early-life trauma can lead to lasting shifts in gut microbiota that are harder to reverse, even with probiotics—possibly due to long-term changes in gut barrier function or nervous system signaling. While research is still evolving, some patterns have been observed:

• Microbiome Shifts: Trauma, especially during early life, may affect the balance of gut bacteria that help regulate inflammation and immunity. Some survivors find that probiotic-rich foods or supplements (like those containing Lactobacillus or Bifidobacterium strains) support their digestion and mood.
• The Gut-Brain Link: The vagus nerve, which connects the gut and brain, plays a key role in digestion and stress responses. Trauma can sometimes disrupt this connection, leading to slower digestion, bloating, or heightened stress signals. Practices like deep breathing, yoga, or vagus nerve stimulation may help restore balance over time.
• Early Trauma and Long-Term Effects: Animal studies hint that severe stress during critical developmental periods might lead to lasting gut sensitivity. While the gut can heal, some survivors notice they’re more prone to certain imbalances, like leaky gut or food intolerances.

Supporting Your Gut After Trauma

While everyone’s body responds differently, some approaches that survivors often explore include:

• Probiotics: Strains like L. rhamnosus and B. longum are commonly studied for stress and gut health, though individual results vary.
• Anti-Inflammatory Foods: Bone broth, fermented foods, and fiber-rich diets help many people manage gut inflammation.
• Nervous System Regulation: Trauma therapies like EMDR, somatic experiencing, or mindfulness may indirectly improve gut health by lowering systemic stress.
• Professional Guidance: Working with a functional medicine doctor or nutritionist can help tailor interventions to your unique needs.

A Note on Cutting-Edge Approaches

Some newer areas of exploration—like psychedelic-assisted therapy or microbiome transplants—show intriguing potential in early research, but they’re not yet widely available or fully understood. Always prioritize safety, legality, and professional supervision when considering experimental options.

Key Takeaway: Your digestive issues aren’t “just stress”—they reflect actual changes in your gut bacteria and nervous system functioning. While some early trauma effects may linger, focus on function rather than perfection: even if certain species don’t return, their roles can be fulfilled by other microbes in a newly balanced ecosystem.

4. Immune System Confusion: Why You Might Get Sick More Often

What You Might Notice:

• Catching every cold or virus that comes around
• Taking longer to recover from illnesses
• Developing allergies or sensitivities you didn’t have before
• Unexplained rashes, hives, or skin reactions
• Fatigue that doesn’t improve with rest
• Flare-ups of autoimmune conditions

Chronic trauma puts your immune system in a difficult position. It stays activated to protect you, but this constant activity eventually leads to exhaustion and immune system dysfunction. Like a security guard who hasn’t slept for days, your immune system might overreact to minor threats (allergies, sensitivities) while missing the important ones (viruses, infections).

Recovery Path: The immune system responds well to stress reduction and rebuilding basic health foundations, though it may take months to recalibrate fully.

Simple Approaches:

• Prioritize sleep quality: Immune rebuilding happens during deep sleep. This may be challenging with trauma-related sleep issues, but even small improvements in sleep quality can help. Create a calming bedtime routine, minimize screen time before bed, keep your bedroom cool and dark, and consider tools like weighted blankets if they feel comforting.
• Gentle, consistent movement: Supports lymphatic flow without adding stress
• Anti-inflammatory foods: Colorful fruits and vegetables, omega-3 rich foods, turmeric
• Mindful management of mast cell reactions: Notice triggers for flushing (skin reddening), itching, or rashes and minimize exposure to foods, chemicals, scents, or situations that provoke these reactions when possible

Mast cells are immune cells that release histamine and other inflammatory compounds when triggered by potential threats. In trauma survivors, these cells often become more reactive, contributing to symptoms like flushing (skin reddening), itching, hives, and digestive upset after exposure to certain foods, chemicals, or emotional triggers.

Optional Deep Dive: Immune System and Trauma

Trauma often disrupts immune system balance, creating a state of simultaneous chronic low-grade inflammation and impaired immune defense. This paradoxical response develops when some inflammatory pathways become persistently active while the body’s normal regulatory systems become less effective.

Many trauma survivors experience overactive mast cell responses, which in some cases may develop into conditions like Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS). In these situations, mast cells can become hypersensitive, releasing disproportionate amounts of inflammatory substances when exposed to potential triggers.

This inflammatory state creates physiological changes that may:

• Increase vulnerability to frequent illnesses
• Raise risk for inflammatory health conditions
• Contribute to autoimmune-like responses

While individual experiences vary, these patterns help explain why trauma survivors often report complex health challenges involving both hyperactive immune responses and reduced infection resistance.

Key Takeaway: Your immune changes aren’t weakness—they’re the result of your body allocating resources to survival rather than maintenance during prolonged threat.

5. Stress Response System: The Command Center of Trauma Adaptation

What You Might Notice:

• Feeling wired but tired—exhausted but unable to relax
• Weight changes, especially increased abdominal fat
• Brain fog and memory issues
• Hormone fluctuations or irregularities
• Blood sugar swings affecting mood and energy
• Sleep disruption, particularly waking at night

While less immediately noticeable than other symptoms, changes in your stress hormone system (the HPA axis) drive many of the physical effects of trauma. This system coordinates how your body responds to stress, regulating everything from energy to immunity to brain function.

Cortisol is one of your primary stress hormones. In healthy amounts, it helps you wake up in the morning, respond to challenges, and manage inflammation. However, trauma can disrupt its natural rhythms. Initially, trauma often causes cortisol to stay elevated, but over time, many trauma survivors develop abnormally low or erratic cortisol patterns. These disruptions affect your metabolism (potentially leading to increased abdominal fat), immune function, and even brain activity.

IMPORTANT: The Double-Bind of Relational Trauma

Unlike other threats, trauma from caregivers or partners creates a unique biological conflict. Your body is programmed to seek comfort from trusted people when stressed, but when these same people are the source of danger, your biological systems receive contradictory commands: “connect for safety” and “flee from danger” simultaneously. This contradiction doesn’t just feel emotionally confusing—it creates measurable disruptions in hormone patterns and nervous system functioning that make relational trauma particularly impactful and exhausting. Understanding this helps explain why recovery from abuse by trusted others involves unique challenges compared to other types of trauma.

Recovery Path: The stress response system can be one of the slower systems to recalibrate, often taking a year or more to show significant improvements, but steady progress is possible with consistent support.

Simple Approaches:

• Establish consistent daily rhythms: Regular sleep-wake times and meal times
• Manage blood sugar: Regular meals with protein, healthy fats, and fiber
• Gentle adaptogens: Herbs like ashwagandha can help support stress resilience (consult a healthcare provider first)
• Mindfulness practices: Regular brief mindfulness breaks throughout the day

Optional Deep Dive: Stress Response System Changes

The body’s central stress response system (the HPA axis) relies on carefully balanced feedback loops that trauma can disrupt. Survivors often develop altered cortisol patterns—sometimes chronically high levels, but more commonly (especially in long-term trauma) an unusually low or “flat” cortisol response. These shifts influence metabolism, cognitive function, and immune activity.

Relational trauma—particularly betrayal by caregivers or partners—has distinct effects on this system. When someone who should provide safety instead becomes a source of threat, it creates a biological paradox: the instinct to seek comfort clashes with the need for self-protection. This conflict can lead to erratic stress hormone fluctuations, where signals for connection and danger fire simultaneously. Over time, this strains the body’s ability to regulate itself effectively.

Key Takeaway: Your stress response system adapted to help you survive chronic danger. Now it needs time and support to learn that the emergency is over. Or, maybe the danger hasn’t fully passed. Understanding this is the first step toward healing.

Fatigue: The Overwhelming Exhaustion of Trauma

Fatigue is one of the most common and challenging aspects of trauma recovery, yet it’s often overlooked or dismissed. This isn’t ordinary tiredness—it’s a bone-deep exhaustion that can feel insurmountable and often doesn’t respond to regular rest. You might feel like you’re constantly running on empty, struggling to accomplish even basic tasks, or needing to recover for days after mild exertion.

This persistent fatigue has multiple physical sources:

• Chronic activation of stress response systems depleting energy reserves
• Inflammatory processes requiring metabolic resources
• Sleep disruption preventing proper recovery
• Mitochondrial dysfunction from long-term stress (your cells’ ability to produce energy becomes impaired)
• The immense energy cost of constant hypervigilance and emotional management

If you’ve been told “you’re just not trying hard enough” or “everyone gets tired,” know that trauma-related fatigue is a real physiological condition, not a character flaw or laziness. Your exhaustion is a logical outcome of the enormous energy your body has expended trying to keep you safe, and it deserves the same compassion and treatment as any other physical symptom.

Recovery approaches:

• Honor your current energy limits rather than fighting against them
• Pace activities throughout the day rather than pushing through
• Prioritize the most essential tasks when energy is limited
• Track your energy patterns to identify your best times of day for different activities
• Consider supporting mitochondrial function with appropriate supplements (under practitioner guidance, see more info below)
• Practice self-compassion when fatigue limits your capacity

Other Physical Signs of Trauma

Beyond the major system changes already discussed, trauma creates numerous other observable physical changes. Understanding these can help validate your experience and guide recovery approaches.

Skin Changes

What you might notice:

• “Skin writing”: Light scratching or pressure leaves raised red marks that stay visible longer than normal
• Excessive sweating in specific areas like hands, feet, or underarms, even when you’re not hot or exercising
• Skin problems like acne or rashes that flare up during stressful times or after emotional triggers

Optional Deep Dive: Skin Manifestations

Dermatographia (also called “skin writing”) causes the skin to become unusually reactive—light pressure, scratching, or even rubbing can leave red, raised marks that linger. This sensitivity is linked to histamine release from mast cells, which may be more easily triggered in individuals with a history of trauma or chronic stress.

Hyperhidrosis involves excessive sweating in specific areas like the palms, soles, or underarms. In some people, this may be related to an overactive stress response system—especially heightened activity in the sympathetic nervous system, which governs the body’s fight-or-flight reactions.

Eye Changes

What you might notice:

• Your pupils staying dilated (larger) even in bright light
• Dry, irritated eyes that worsen during stress
• Becoming more sensitive to bright lights or visual movement

Optional Deep Dive: Ocular Signs

Many people with trauma histories notice changes in how their eyes function, particularly during stress or triggering situations. Common patterns include:

1. Pupil Responsiveness

• Some report exaggerated pupil reactions to light, especially during hypervigilance
• Others notice persistently dilated pupils even in bright environments
• These changes may reflect altered nervous system regulation

1. Dry Eye Symptoms

• Increased eye dryness, particularly during stressful periods
• Likely connected to shifts in autonomic nervous system function
• May fluctuate with stress levels

1. Visual Sensitivity

• Heightened discomfort with bright lights or certain visual patterns
• Some describe visual stimuli as physically painful during distress
• Often worsens during or after triggering experiences

These manifestations typically represent the body’s adaptive responses to prolonged stress rather than permanent damage. Many survivors find symptoms improve as their nervous system regulation recovers.

Posture and Muscle Changes

What you might notice:

• Rounded, hunched shoulders that developed as a protective posture
• Pelvic floor problems like tension, pain, or weakness (may manifest as pain during sex, urinary urgency or incontinence, constipation, or lower back pain)
• Jaw clenching, teeth grinding, or TMJ (jaw joint) pain

Optional Deep Dive: Musculoskeletal “Trauma Postures”

Fetal Shoulders: Many trauma survivors unconsciously adopt a rounded, protective posture—shoulders curled forward, chest slightly collapsed. This stance can serve as a kind of physical shielding of the body’s most vulnerable areas, especially after prolonged periods of fear or threat.

Pelvic Floor Patterns: Trauma can affect the muscles of the pelvic floor in different ways. Some survivors develop chronic tension or tightness (a hypertonic pattern), which may cause pain, discomfort, or difficulty relaxing during intimacy. Others experience a looser, more collapsed state (a hypotonic pattern), where the muscles feel weak or disconnected. For many, both patterns can show up—either at different times or in different muscle groups—especially in the context of complex trauma, where the body may have cycled through various survival responses like freezing, dissociating, or bracing for impact.

Jaw Tension and TMJ Discomfort: Chronic jaw clenching or teeth grinding is a common physical expression of unprocessed stress or vigilance. Survivors often notice tightness in the jaw or pain near the temples, especially during or after triggering experiences. This tension may reflect the body’s attempt to suppress emotion or remain “on guard.”

Voice and Speech Changes

What you might notice:

• A flat, monotone voice or a voice that sounds strained or raspy
• Difficulty finishing sentences when discussing triggering topics
• Speaking more quietly or with vocal fry (a creaky sound) especially in stressful situations
• For singers: difficulty accessing your full vocal range, voice cracks or breaks, losing pitch control when singing, or feeling disconnected from your voice
• Complete loss of words or inability to form coherent sentences when highly triggered (“trauma aphasia”)

Optional Deep Dive: Voice & Speech Patterns

Vocal Cord Tension: May manifest as a flat affect (ventral vagal shutdown) or raspy voice (recurrent laryngeal nerve irritation).

Speech Apraxia: Mid-sentence freezing when triggered, as the limbic system overrides speech centers (sometimes called “Broca’s arrest”).

Vocal fry or whispered speech: Common in those who learned to make themselves “smaller” or less noticeable to avoid abuse. Not all instances of vocal fry relate to trauma, as it can be a cultural or regional speech pattern as well.

Optional Expanded Deep Dive: Voice & Speech Changes for Singers

For singers, trauma often shows up in the voice through deeply embodied responses. The larynx (voice box) and the muscles that support it are highly sensitive to emotional states and shifts in the nervous system. When someone with a history of trauma sings, certain patterns often emerge—not because of a lack of technical ability, but because the body itself is responding to past experiences of threat.

Laryngeal Tension Patterns: Many trauma survivors carry chronic tension in the muscles around the larynx, especially the extrinsic muscles that anchor it to the jaw, tongue, and chest. This tension can limit the natural rise and fall of the larynx during singing, affecting range, flexibility, and ease. Even singers with excellent technique may experience premature vocal fatigue or discomfort after singing, especially in emotionally charged pieces.

Breath Support Disruption: The breath system is often impacted by trauma. Shallow breathing, breath-holding, or unconscious abdominal bracing are common survival adaptations. Because singing requires full, relaxed diaphragmatic engagement, these patterns can make it difficult to access the steady breath needed for vocal control. Singers may find themselves unable to sustain long phrases or may feel “cut off” from their breath in performance situations.

Proprioceptive Changes: Trauma can alter body awareness, creating a sense of disconnection between how something feels and how it’s actually being executed. Singers might struggle to “find” certain notes or registers that were previously easy, or feel confused by changes in vocal control. This isn’t a loss of skill—it’s a temporary disruption in the brain-body connection that coordinates motor function under stress or dissociation.

Resonance Shifts: The spaces that help shape vocal tone—particularly in the throat and upper airway—may constrict during trauma responses. This can result in a trapped or muffled sound, or a sudden loss of resonance, especially in emotionally vulnerable material. Some singers describe it as if the voice is “caught” or “closed off,” even though everything seems structurally fine.

Registration Disruption: Smooth transitions between chest, head, and mixed voice require fine-tuned muscular coordination and nervous system regulation. When trauma dysregulates the nervous system, these transitions can feel jagged or unreliable. Singers may experience voice breaks or inconsistent register blending, even in technically familiar passages. Rebuilding this coordination often involves both nervous system regulation and gentle, targeted vocal work in emotionally safe settings.

Additional Considerations for Neurodivergent Singers: Autistic singers or those with heightened sensory sensitivity may experience more pronounced challenges with body awareness or vocal coordination. Extra patience, flexible strategies, and customized body-mapping approaches can make a meaningful difference.

Heart and Blood Flow Changes

What you might notice:

• Heart racing when you stand up quickly
• Fingers or toes turning white or blue in cold or during stress
• Blood pressure that swings between too high and too low

Optional Deep Dive: Cardiovascular “Trauma Signature”

POTS-like Symptoms: Many trauma survivors experience a sudden increase in heart rate upon standing, sometimes accompanied by dizziness, lightheadedness, or fatigue. This pattern is especially common among those with a history of developmental trauma. In some cases, the symptoms are consistent with Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS), though not all meet formal diagnostic criteria. These responses reflect dysregulation in the autonomic nervous system, particularly the balance between sympathetic and parasympathetic activity.

Raynaud’s-Like Responses: Some individuals notice that their fingers or toes turn white or blue in response to cold or emotional stress. This is due to an exaggerated constriction of blood vessels—a common pattern in those with heightened sympathetic reactivity. While often associated with Raynaud’s Phenomenon, similar vascular responses are frequently seen in trauma survivors even without a formal diagnosis.

Blood Pressure Fluctuations: Trauma can create wide variability in blood pressure depending on nervous system state. During states of hyperarousal (fight-or-flight), blood pressure may spike. In contrast, during dissociative or shutdown responses, blood pressure may drop. These fluctuations reflect the body’s attempts to navigate perceived threat, even when the threat is no longer present.

Sensory Processing Changes

What you might notice:

• Being easily startled by sudden noises or movements
• Becoming overwhelmed by sensory input like loud sounds, bright lights, or certain textures
• Experiencing ringing in your ears that appears or gets worse during stress or when triggered

Optional Deep Dive: Neural and Sensory Changes

Heightened Startle Response: Many trauma survivors find themselves easily startled by unexpected sounds, touches, or movements. This reflects an overactive threat detection system, where the brain—particularly the amygdala—remains on high alert, ready to mobilize a defensive response even when danger is not present.

Sensory Sensitivity: Trauma can lead to heightened sensitivity to sensory input such as noise, light, textures, or smells. These sensitivities may stem from a nervous system that’s chronically overstimulated, or they may arise because certain sensations echo past traumatic experiences. The result is often a feeling of overwhelm or discomfort in environments others might find unremarkable.

Tinnitus or Ear Ringing: A persistent or intermittent ringing, buzzing, or hissing sound in the ears can emerge or intensify during periods of stress. This may be influenced by subtle shifts in muscular tension, blood flow, or neural activity in areas tied to hearing. For some survivors, tinnitus flares in response to trauma-related triggers, making it both a sensory and emotional stressor.

These physical manifestations aren’t imaginary—they’re visible evidence of how trauma has rewired your nervous system. Recognizing these patterns can help validate your experience and guide targeted healing approaches.

Key Takeaway: These observable physical changes aren’t “just in your head”—they reflect real neurobiological adaptations that occurred in response to trauma and can be addressed through appropriate trauma-informed care.

In the following sections, we’ll discuss practitioners, tests, and approaches that can help address these symptoms. While some options may require financial resources, we’ll also include accessible self-help strategies throughout.

If you can only focus on one area of healing due to limited resources, nervous system regulation and digestive health often provide the most foundational support for overall recovery.

Healing Timeline: The Forest’s Regrowth

Before we explore specific approaches to healing, it’s important to understand that recovery follows natural patterns similar to a forest regenerating after a fire. Like ecological restoration, healing can’t be rushed but can be supported. Understanding the typical timeline can help you set realistic expectations and recognize progress, even when it feels slow.

Important: Safety First

It’s vital to understand that significant healing requires a foundation of relative safety. If you’re still in an actively traumatic situation, your body will maintain its protective adaptations—and rightfully so. This doesn’t mean no healing can occur, but full recovery requires an environment where your nervous system can gradually recognize that the danger has passed.

If you’re still dealing with ongoing trauma, including post-separation abuse, harassment, or continued contact with abusers through co-parenting or legal battles, your healing timeline will be affected. Like a forest where embers continue to reignite small fires, ongoing contact with sources of trauma can continually reactivate stress responses.

What You Can Do If Complete Safety Isn’t Yet Possible:

• Focus on harm reduction rather than complete healing
• Create small pockets of safety when and where you can
• Build a support network that validates your experience
• Learn regulation techniques that can be used discreetly
• Practice boundary setting when it’s safe to do so
• Work with a trauma-informed therapist who understands the complexity of ongoing trauma

With these considerations in mind, here’s what healing might look like when sufficient safety exists:

The First Months (1-3):

• Nervous system: You may notice brief moments of feeling safer
• Digestion: Improved regularity or reduced acute symptoms
• Sleep: Falling asleep might become easier, though staying asleep may still be challenging
• Energy: Small increases in available energy

This is like the first green shoots appearing after a forest fire—signs of life returning, but still fragile.

The Middle Period (3-12 months):

• Nervous system: Longer periods of feeling regulated before getting triggered
• Digestion: More consistent functioning, fewer severe reactions
• Immune function: Fewer minor illnesses, improved recovery time
• Stress response: More resilience to everyday stressors

This resembles the early succession stage in forest regrowth—pioneer species (fast-growing plants that can thrive in disturbed soil) establishing themselves, creating the conditions for more complex growth and stability.

The Longer Journey (1-3 years):

• Nervous system: A new baseline of greater calm, with triggers becoming less intense
• Hormones: More balanced patterns emerging
• Body chemistry: Gradual normalization of sweat, odor, and other physical markers
• Identity: Growing sense of your body as an ally rather than an enemy

This represents the maturing forest—diverse new growth establishing a different but vibrant ecosystem.

Persistent Adaptations (Beyond): Some trauma adaptations, particularly from early developmental trauma, may persist in modified forms. Like a forest that grows back with a different composition of species after a fire, your body may establish a new, healthy equilibrium that’s different from its pre-trauma state.

Areas that may retain differences include:

• Gut microbiome composition (though function can improve significantly)
• Certain HPA axis response patterns (such as morning cortisol levels, stress reactivity speed, or recovery timing)
• Baseline inflammatory markers
• Nervous system sensitivity thresholds

However, these differences don’t necessarily mean dysfunction. Many survivors develop remarkable resilience, intuition, and capacity for empathy precisely because of how their bodies adapted to trauma.

Key Takeaway: Recovery isn’t linear—you’ll have setbacks and growth spurts. Progress often happens in a spiral pattern, revisiting challenges but with growing capacity each time. Be patient with yourself, especially if safety is still being established.

Read the rest of this article including steps toward healing in the first book in Ellen’s series “There’s A Word for That”: https://a.co/d/00yKwGEj

This article is in Ellen’s first book of her “There’s A Word For That” series. Order it here.

Copyright Notice: This excerpt is from my book. All content is © 2025 Worldwide Groove Corporation. Unauthorized reproduction, distribution, or use of this material without permission is prohibited. Thank you for respecting my work. 😊

Featured Photo Credit: Unsplash

Guest Post Disclaimer: This guest post is for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing shared here, across CPTSDfoundation.org, any CPTSD Foundation website, our associated communities, or our Social Media accounts, is intended to substitute for or supersede the professional advice and direction of your medical or mental health providers. The thoughts and opinions expressed are those of the guest author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the CPTSD Foundation. For further details, please review the following: Terms of Service, Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer

Tonight, I told myself, I’m going to have the best sleep of my life.  

I had saved up a few hundred bucks to purchase a singing bowl. I had heard they’re miracle workers for people with sleep issues, and I just knew I had to give it the ol’ college try. 

I blocked out a Saturday afternoon to drive to a metaphysical store in the big city to pick out the perfect singing bowl. I spent about an hour testing dozens of bowls, allowing my body to feel the frequency of each sound to determine which one was the right fit. After completing my rounds, there was one that kept calling my name. I grazed the mallet around the bowl one last time. It felt like music to my ears.

That night, the only thing on my bedtime agenda was to relax. I put away all my screens and spent the evening cooking, cleaning, painting, and reading to calm my nervous system. I concluded the night with some restorative yoga poses. I fought back trauma responses to the flashbacks, but they were manageable.  

My singing bowl symphony

It was time to begin my bedtime symphony in hopes that tonight would be the first time in ten years I would sleep more than three hours without sleep paralysis or night terrors. 

I turned the lights down low, lit a candle, folded my fuzzy blanket onto the floor, and got comfy, straddling the singing bowl between my thighs. I lifted the mallet with my right hand and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. 

I tapped the mallet on the side of the bowl and began to circle it around the rim gently, allowing the healing frequency to seep into every pore of my body. What had initially sounded like music to my ears at the metaphysical store was starting to feel a little intense as the flashbacks began to rile up. Still, I decided to sit with it. 

You spent three hundred bucks on this thing, Natalie. See it through, I reminded myself. 

I continued to play softly, but the flashbacks weren’t having it. They began to scream louder than the bowl could sing, and my body began pulsing with rage. The soothing sounds of the singing bowl must have been too beautiful for the flashbacks to handle, and they got jealous. They clearly weren’t going down without a fight.

I screamed in agony as I battled the trauma responses festering in my body. Finally, I had had enough. My body impulsively carried out one final jolt: my right arm darted forward with a violent, uncontrollable punch, like I was chopping a tree stump in half with an axe. The mallet struck the edge of the bowl, shattering it into a million pieces.  

The mess I made

I sat dumbfounded at the mosaic I had created between my crotch and my feet. After about fifteen seconds of pure shock, the wave of self-punishment began. I hurled obscenities at myself, scolded myself for my lack of control, and listed all the other things I could have spent those three hundred bucks on. 

The flashbacks now lay on the floor, transformed into tiny glass particles sparkling before my eyes. With each glimmer of light, I felt them mocking me. I could hear their taunting laughter and see their evil eyes in the shards, reminding me that I would never be free of them, no matter how hard I tried. 

I gingerly picked up one of the miniscule particles and caressed it between my thumb and index finger. A tear fell onto it, and I tossed it back into the sea of mockery and hopelessness. 

“You win again, flashbacks,” I muttered.  

Picking up the pieces

With trembling hands, I managed to push myself up, but I quickly lost my balance. My thigh scraped against the glass, and dozens of shards embedded themselves in the fabric of my leggings. I screamed again. 

I trudged to the bathroom to grab my tweezers, but after just a few steps, I realized that more glass was stuck in the soles of my feet. I screamed once more and collapsed onto my hands and knees, crawling on all fours until I reached the toilet. The sensory overload was unbearable. I puked out my only meal of the day. 

Finally feeling a release, I spent the next hour on the bathroom floor, tweezing out the microscopic glass particles from my feet as tears flooded the floor around me.  

The next morning

The first thing on my to-do list the next morning was to purchase a sack of potatoes at the farmer’s market. 

When I got home, I sliced each potato in half, got down on my hands and knees, and rubbed the mushy side of the potato against the cabin floor, picking up every glass shard, no matter how small. As I vacuumed and mopped, I felt bummed. It was time to go back to the drawing board. 

The painful sleep that comes with CPTSD

As a child, I never had any sleep issues. However, when my CPTSD symptoms began around age 13, my sleep started to deteriorate. For over a decade, I battled severe sleep issues: insomnia, sleep paralysis, night terrors, and narcolepsy. I absolutely dreaded going to bed each night. In fact, I hated sleeping more than I hated being awake. 

My trauma manifested in extreme ways during my sleep, often worse than the flashbacks I experienced at every second of the day. I managed to get through my waking hours by drinking eight cups of coffee, which only skyrocketed my anxiety. Even after episodes of sleep paralysis, I would eventually wake up and try to go back to sleep, but the cycle would continue. At one point, my night terrors were so intense that I had to set a 15-minute alarm to wake myself up, reset it, and then try to sleep again, terrified of the next round of torture. This cycle kept my nervous system in a constant state of hypervigilance during a time when I should have found refuge from the world.  

Over the years, I consulted numerous sleep doctors and psychiatrists in my quest to restore my sleep to its natural state. I begged my doctors for answers, asking why the meds weren’t working. They had no answers. Deep down, I knew that I would have to take control of my sleep on my own. During my East Texas cabin journey, I took active steps to learn how to sleep independently while working through withdrawal from high doses of Prazosin and Trazodone. 

Back to the basics

At the beginning of my cabin journey, I was gifted a book called “How to Break Up With Your Phone” by Catherine Price. With an open mind and a willingness to confront my digital habits, I read the entire book in one day. In it, Price highlights the detrimental effects that our addictive handheld devices have on our sleep. I had never considered that using my phone right before bedtime could affect my sleep, or that even leaving it on my nightstand as an alarm clock could send signals to my brain while I slept. Price challenges readers to go on a phone detox for 1 hour a day to reclaim their power. 

I’ve always been a “go big or go home” kind of girl. One hour a day? Pssh.

That’s too easy. So, I decided to embark on my first-ever 7-day complete tech detox. While Price didn’t suggest anywhere near this level of commitment, my sleep was poor enough that I was willing to do whatever it took to turn my bedroom into my sanctuary.  

Sitting with my own mind and setting intentions

My transformative week of being unplugged will be the subject of a future blog, but it served as the catalyst for figuring out my sleep issues. My goal was to fall asleep each night during those seven days without relying on Trazodone. 

I knew that the first step in falling asleep was to overcome my fear of getting in my bed. Each day, I went to my climbing gym and sat in the sauna. I did some deep breathing exercises and focused on setting positive intentions throughout the day to prepare for nighttime: “I am not afraid to fall asleep.”

I repeated this statement out loud over and over again, (sometimes even screaming it!) through agonizing physiological pain. I must have said it hundreds of times. I also voiced numerous other mantras, such as: 

• My sleep is peaceful. 
• I will 100% be at rest tonight.
• My sleep is transformative, lucid, and creative. 
• Nothing is allowed to interfere with my sleep. 

Five in, five out 

That night, as I lay in bed, I practiced a breathing technique I had learned. I placed one hand on my heart and the other on my stomach. Breathe in for five seconds, breathe out for five seconds. Fighting back flashbacks, I repeated this exercise over and over. I screamed in agony. Rolled around. Punched my pillow. Reset myself again. Five in. Five out. Just as I had been taught. 

After six hours of this, I finally drifted off to sleep. The next morning, when I glanced at the clock, a tear trickled down my cheek. I had only slept three hours, and I still had sleep paralysis, but I had done it without my Trazodone. I felt so proud of myself. 

My new favorite part of the day

During my first tech detox, I established a consistent sleep routine. I maintained this routine, among other habits, over the next year. On February 6, 2025, I had my first ever 7-hour night of sleep without experiencing sleep paralysis or night terrors since I was a teenager. It took about a year of persistent daily practice to reach this point, but I finally got there. Now, in 2026, this has become my norm every single night. 

I never needed any external aids to help me sleep. I had spent years experimenting with sound machines, sleep trinkets, prescription meds, over-the-counter drugs, and home remedies like herbal teas. Ultimately, I realized that in order to restore my sleep to its natural state, I needed to reclaim my power through somatic methods. How could my sleep ever be truly restorative if I relied on synthetic substances to induce an artificial state of rest? Nothing worked as well as setting aside all distractions, allowing the sounds and sensations of my own breath to fill my body with complete tranquility, and letting my subconscious take over. 

What was once the most dreaded part of my day has now become my favorite. I love going to sleep. Every night, I fall asleep within 10 seconds of lying down. I no longer have a sleep routine because I remain consistently calm throughout the day. I no longer experience sleep paralysis or night terrors. Instead, I build my dreams and fly through alternate worlds that I create with my subconscious mind. I wake up feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, and I don’t need daytime naps. Oh! And I haven’t had a sip of caffeine in two years. I used to think none of this was possible.  

Never give up on conquering insomnia, sleep paralysis, night terrors, or narcolepsy

To any survivors struggling with sleep, I encourage you to be patient with yourself. Your sleep will ebb and flow during your recovery as the trauma is released from your body. But once you reach a more stable phase in your healing process, you’ll find that sleep becomes easier. Don’t give up. Explore different options that work for you, whether they are medications, natural remedies, or other methods. Remember, what works for one person may not work for another. Everybody and every body is different! You have the power to cultivate control of your sleep.  

My sleep is my refuge. It is my creative canvas and my slice of heaven. I am no longer afraid to fall asleep. 

Photo by Sherin on Pexels

To my readers who have been following my journey: I am excited to share that I have created a personal blog called “Little Cabin Life.” This blog chronicles my healing journey, where I share my experiences and the things I am doing to support my recovery. You’ll also find tips that have been helpful to me along the way. If you’re interested in following my story, please feel free to visit www.littlecabinlife.com.

Guest Post Disclaimer: This guest post is for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing shared here, across CPTSDfoundation.org, any CPTSD Foundation website, our associated communities, or our Social Media accounts, is intended to substitute for or supersede the professional advice and direction of your medical or mental health providers. The thoughts and opinions expressed are those of the guest author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the CPTSD Foundation. For further details, please review the following: Terms of Service, Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer

Why the edge can feel unsafe

Humans did not evolve on memory foam in locked bedrooms. For most of our history, we slept on the ground, in caves, in huts with thin doors. Exposed limbs meant exposed entry points. Predators target extremities and the neck because access is easier. The nervous system solved that problem by favoring positions that protect the core: curl, cover, and tuck. That is not fear. It is pattern recognition preserved across generations. The amygdala still scans in the background during sleep, and it does not retire just because you purchased a better mattress.

Evolutionary memory that is still on duty

Even today, the brain runs a quiet night watch. On the first night in an unfamiliar place, sleep becomes asymmetric; one hemisphere remains more alert while the other rests. Laboratory work has demonstrated this first-night effect with imaging that shows a built-in vigilance system holding partial guard. That is biology, not superstition, and it helps explain why the edge of a bed in a new setting can feel like a cliff rather than a cushion.

Trauma history changes the map

Trauma shifts sleep from rest to strategy. People with childhood abuse, severe neglect, or control-based punishment often adopt positions that prioritize mobility, concealment, or both. Some sleep near the edge with one leg ready to move because escape has been coded as necessary. Others cannot tolerate uncovered limbs at all and cocoon under blankets even in warm rooms, not for comfort but for defense of the areas perpetrators once accessed. These choices are rarely conscious. They are solutions installed by experience and maintained by a threat-biased nervous system.

Posture, perception, and what the research suggests

Sleep posture correlates with emotional states in population studies and clinical reviews. Fetal-style sleepers more often report higher stress and adverse life events. Supine sleepers show a higher association with sleep paralysis in several samples. Side and edge positions vary; for some, the choice is airflow and spinal ease, for others, it is a safety cue learned a long time ago. None of this proves a single rule. It does support what clinicians observe: position is not random for many survivors.

Temperature, physiology, and learned associations

Feet are fast radiators. Specialized vessels in the hands and feet move heat quickly, so a foot outside the covers can lower body temperature and help with sleep onset. Biology does not operate in a vacuum, though. If cold feet were paired with fear, isolation, or punishment, the same sensation can function as a warning rather than a comfort. The body votes based on memory more than on textbook physiology.

Practical steps that respect biology

Start with observation rather than force. Notice how your body positions itself in the first moments of waking and the last moments before sleep. Those are honest windows. Make small experiments without pressure. If you want to test more exposure, begin with a toe or ankle rather than a full limb and see what the body permits. Do not copy someone else’s version of calm. One person sprawls because their system is quiet; another curls because their system is careful. Adjust the room before you try to adjust your biology. Lower the bed, soften the lighting, and set a temperature that signals safety. Some people settle with breathable sheets and a light-weight throw; others require no weight at all. There is no universal fix. The point is to give the nervous system current evidence that the environment is safe in the present day.

Final thoughts

Edge anxiety is not drama, and it is not immaturity. It is a living record of what kept people safe. If your legs lock tight or you pull the blanket over your head every night, that is not a flaw. It is survival programming that has not yet been given a stable reason to retire. Whether you sleep centered like a sandbag or hold the perimeter like a lookout, the pattern makes sense once the history is named. Your brain did not forget what life taught it, especially at night.

References

Tamaki M, Bang JW, Watanabe T, Sasaki Y. Night watch in one brain hemisphere during sleep associated with the first-night effect in humans. Current Biology. 2016;26(9):1190-1194.
Jalal B, Romanelli A, Hinton DE. Sleep paralysis in Italy: frequency, symptoms, and the role of cultural interpretation. Consciousness and Cognition. 2017;51:298-305.
Suni E, Chen W, Jungquist C, et al. Sleep position and mental health: a scoping review. Sleep Health. 2017;3(6):460-467.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

A technique that seems to be lesser known is TRE (Tension and Trauma Releasing Exercises). Developed by David Berceli, PhD, an international expert in trauma intervention and conflict resolution, the TRE process, per session, but, more importantly, over time, gently helps to release the deep-seated tension created in the body during traumatic experiences or from chronic stress, culminating in feelings of groundedness or relaxation and supporting resilience.

For decades, Nicole Strafaci explored approaches to alleviate her cumulative symptoms. When she was 16, Nicole developed chronic insomnia, which persisted for more than 30 years. “I tried everything from traditional talk therapy to Chinese medicine,“ she says. “Various hurdles over the years, including battles with depression, have instilled a deep curiosity about unraveling my sleep issues and all of the related consequences.”

Despite and perhaps because of Nicole’s struggles, she became an artist. Now based in Frenchtown, NJ, Nicole has also taught art and embodied practices at various locations, including Art Yard in Frenchtown and the Newark Museum. “I have participated in several life-changing workshops at Esalen Institute in Big Sur, CA, a leading center in the Human Potential Movement since the 1960s. I have also studied hypnosis and Reiki,” Nicole says. “My studio practice has evolved over the past 35 years from a BFA in photography to drawing, painting, collage, fiber arts, and performance. Studio work has deepened my appreciation and focus on detail and nuance, something that is invaluable to me as a TRE practitioner, provider, and facilitator.”

Nicole has sought a connection between art, embodiment techniques, and holistic healing for as long as she can remember. “When I first experienced TRE, I immediately knew I had found the missing link. I was quite moved and inspired by this profound and creative process, feeling certain that TRE would bring the peace I was seeking,” she says. “As a shy and quiet child, I turned to books, which became my best friends. I also grew up in a home filled with Victorian furniture and an eccentric collection of tchotchkes.” Nicole mentioned the house because she believes that “the layered histories and surfaces found in antiques had a huge impact on my development as an artist and as a sensitive being within myself and among other people.”

It’s no wonder that Dr. Berceli’s TRE technique appealed to Nicole, for it combines an understanding of the complexities of the human condition along with simple exercises that achieve a transformation to a new state of being. “Dr. Berceli designed the TRE exercises after he had experience working in a bomb shelter. He noticed that all the people in the shelter–including men, women, and children–had the same reaction to a bomb, which was to compress their bodies for protection,” Nicole says. “After the bomb went off, the children in the room shook. This instinctual reaction is the same for a dog that hears thunder or a loud noise and then runs under a bed. When the dog resurfaces, it immediately shakes off the stress,” she continues. “The adults in the bomb shelter were busy staying calm and collected for the sake of the children. They did not complete the stress cycle as the children did.” These observations inspired social worker-turned-field traumatologist Berceli to realize that if the body contracts in fear, “it makes sense that it would also need to discharge that energy. If we do not complete this stress cycle, tension gets trapped in the body, which can lead to PTSD, muscle pain, sleep and digestive issues, and disease,” Nicole adds.

During her own process and in sessions with clients, Nicole incorporates a series of seven exercises developed by Dr. Berceli that gently fatigue different muscle groups in the body and engender neurogenic or automatic tremors in a safe environment. Emphasis is placed on self-regulation and personal empowerment. “You can easily stop the tremors at any time or take a short break and resume,” Nicole says. “Although TRE was originally developed for PTSD, it can effectively be used in countless ways for daily stress management, sports injury recovery, and in yoga centers and meditation circles.”

For Nicole and her clients, TRE assists in releasing deep muscular patterns of stress, tension, and trauma. “TRE safely activates a natural reflex mechanism of shaking or vibrating that releases muscular tension, calming down the nervous system,” she says. “When this muscular, shaking, vibrating mechanism is activated in a safe and controlled environment, the body is encouraged to return to a state of balance and homeostasis.”

One of the many reasons Nicole has stuck with TRE is that it is a creative process that can be customized based on the unique needs of each client. “Every session includes the tremors, and most include the seven exercises that lead to them, but beyond that, sessions can be adjusted individually,” she says. “With more experienced clients, some or all of the exercises can be skipped. The exercises can also be modified if needed, depending on the client’s mobility level. But none of the exercises is mission-critical,” Nicole assures. “As an artist, I am inspired to include creative visualizations and guided meditations designed for individual clients. These meditations occur once the client is lying down, before the tremors, and after the exercises.”

Throughout the process, clients will realize that TRE stems from the human body’s innate power and ability to transform. “The body is literally shaking off what it doesn’t need in order to return to a state of equilibrium,” Nicole says. “I think if people understand how natural this process is, they might become more curious and less cautious or skeptical.”

If you are both curious and in need of relief from stress or trauma symptoms, Nicole would love to have a conversation with you. “I offer a complimentary 15-20 minute consultation to answer any questions, discuss TRE, and determine if we are a good match,” she says. “I am also a firm believer in listening carefully to each client, understanding their specific needs, and fostering individual self-empowerment. I am facilitating and guiding, but you are always in the driver’s seat.”

Just as candidly, Nicole encourages clients to incorporate other modalities into their healing process, particularly those involving moving meditation (e.g., yoga, tai chi) or complementary medical practices such as acupuncture, but also including traditional talk therapy, if doing so meets their emotional or physiological needs. Listening to the intelligence of the human body is key, but there’s more to just how much TRE clicks for Nicole. “I find that because TRE has the capacity to soften and soothe the nervous system, it can enhance the effectiveness of other modalities,” she says.

Contact Nicole Strafaci for a complimentary individual consultation to discover if TRE is the right technique for you.

Photo credits: TRE Global (group TRE session and Dr. David Berceli), Nicole Strafaci, Sleep Matters (infographic), Freepik

Disclaimers:

TRE is generally safe and effective for most people. However, individuals with specific physical or psychological conditions or a complex trauma history should consult a certified TRE provider or a medical doctor before engaging in the exercises. TRE is not a replacement for medical or psychological trauma recovery practices.

The content of this article is for informational purposes only and should not be considered professional medical advice.

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

In my childhood, the possibility of being attacked was everywhere. I never knew what my parents were going to do. Even when I was away at school, I remained terrified I would make some small mistake that would get reported to them. Grades were a constant source of terror. I learned to read my parent’s moods, but no one, not even me, could get it right 100% of the time. Inevitably, something would happen, or perhaps nothing would happen, and I would be the brunt of my mother’s rage and my father’s frustration and anger. Beatings, denigration, and isolation — all these and more — would be my punishment. I learned some lessons of childhood well:

The world is not a safe place. People are not safe. Something bad will always happen.

My response? Control everything as much as possible. Always be on the alert. Don’t trust anybody. Those lessons saved my life as a child, but as an adult, they wreaked all kinds of havoc, not the least of which was insomnia. I didn’t know how to explain to my sleep therapist that these were not just negative thoughts. These were survival mechanisms that kept me alive and I could not turn them off just because I wanted to.

CPTSD and Insomnia

Survivors of childhood trauma do something called splitting or dissociating. Different parts of ourselves carry trauma from different times in our lives. In a way, I was living as a six-year-old still stuck in that house of horrors with all the sorrow, fear, loneliness, and powerlessness that accompanied it.

That’s what CPTSD looks like and that was what was behind my insomnia. Over the years, I had a hard time embracing the little child that was me. She was too vulnerable, too powerless, and too hurt. But as long as I refused to deal with her suffering, more CPTSD symptoms took charge, including insomnia. Healing this type of trauma is like peeling an onion, and I have now come to a very deep layer.

When insomnia kept me up at night, I often sifted through the past—grieving or just trying to make sense of it all. Problem-solving is what the brain is supposed to do. But this was problem-solving of a different kind. One that stayed in endless loops without resolution, causing hyper-arousal to override my sleep drive night after endless night. I would google my abuser’s names and sometimes look at their pictures posted on Facebook. I would ask myself questions that had no answers and wonder if doing something differently would have changed anything. If I wasn’t doing that, I would watch videos on the Holocaust or other images of suffering, all the while trying to figure out the meaning of life. No wonder I couldn’t fall asleep.

The Role of the Amygdala in Insomnia

The hyper-vigilance/hyper-arousal created by trauma was continuing to work without my knowledge or even consent. This process resides in a part of the brain called the amygdala.

Ah…yes…the amygdala. That area of the brain is mentioned so often in trauma work. The brain’s major processing center for emotions linking memories, learning, and senses. And listen to this, the part of the brain responsible for fight or flight! The part of the brain most damaged by the constant stress of early ongoing childhood trauma. I had never heard this about insomnia before, and frankly, having only arrived at the place where I felt I was well enough to work on my sleeplessness, I am shocked at how bad it is, how long it has gone on, and what an impact it has had on my life. I knew it was related to trauma, I just didn’t know how much.

This process also explains why I get so angry when listening to the usual so-called cures for insomnia. I’ve trained myself to be an insomniac. Really? Sleep restriction sounds like more abuse. On the surface, cutting out naps and only getting into bed when sleepy sounds legit. To a trauma survivor, it only adds to the suffering. Keep a sleep diary? All that did was light up my amygdala.

All of the above is why insomnia for trauma survivors is complicated. It involves much more than changing a few bad sleep habits. We must attack the core of insomnia—the trauma that caused it. I kept all the concrete suggestions my sleep therapist gave me, and then I went back to the drawing board. The threat response had kept me in flashbacks for most of my life, but I had been able to make significant improvements. I was able to feel joy, I could participate in friendships and relationships without feeling terror. If those things could heal, I knew insomnia could get better as well. Already my heart beliefs about insomnia were beginning to change.

I decided to stop trying to solve insomnia by working harder at it. If indeed sleep was a passive process, solving insomnia wasn’t going to come by doing the structural suggestions better than anyone else. It was going to come from a different direction.

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

“Insomnia for trauma survivors is not a sleep problem, it is an anxiety problem.” 

My story

For decades, I stayed up nearly all night until exhaustion forced me to pass out the next day. My brain interpreted the setting of the sun as a cue to churn. Sometimes I could last as long as 4 AM. Other times I’d finally pass out around 2. Waking multiple times in the night, nightmares, and panic attacks were all part of the cycle. During the day, if I got quiet or sat down to read or watch TV, I would fall asleep. I felt as though I lived in a permanent fog or jet lag.

Looking back, the more trauma symptoms reared their ugly head, the worse insomnia symptoms grew. The two things required for sleep, relaxation and letting go of control, are two things trauma survivors do not do. As trauma pushes to the surface demanding to be processed, sleep becomes an adversary.

I began to dread going to bed. I knew what was waiting. Lying awake hour after hour, sifting through thoughts about the past, churning over regret, being afraid, grieving.  My body would hurt. I could not get comfortable. My head ached. Sometimes I would pace the floor or go outside and listen to the night. Nothing helped. When you are sleep deprived AND exhausted you can’t coherently cope with anything.

As a child, my brain was in overdrive. For my own survival, I was always on the alert for threats. This same pattern is responsible, at least in large part, for insomnia. As an adult, my brain continued to be devoted to ferreting out threats. And in response to the neural pathways laid down in childhood, I trained myself to be an insomniac. This is the repetitive catch-22 trap of trauma. Just like dissociation, just like flashbacks, just like a perceived threat, what my brain does to try to help (looking for a threat) keeps me awake night after a sleepless night.

Common beliefs insomniacs have about sleep

1. Worry over sleep loss

• My brain is broken. There is something wrong with me.
• What am I going to do if I can’t sleep?
• I’m going to die from lack of sleep.

2. Rumination over consequences

• I’m going to have to cancel everything tomorrow.
• I won’t be able to go on that trip. My insomnia makes it impossible.

3. Unrealistic expectations

• I have to have eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.
• I’m going to stay in this bed until I go to sleep. I don’t care if I stay awake all night.
• I’m going to force myself to fall asleep.

In addition, trauma survivors hold these beliefs when approaching sleep.

1. Worry

• As soon as I lay down, my brain is going to bring up the past, over and over and over.
• Rumination and worry over something I said or did during the previous day.
• Worry over a to-do list.

2. Fear

• What if everything my abuser said is true? Or worse, what if they come after me?
• I’m going to get in trouble.

3. Anxiety

• Something terrible is going to happen.

4. Flight

• I’m trapped.

5. Fight

• I’ve got to do something about sleep, but it’s hopeless!

And so, the circular motion of insomnia continues, and, like a hamster, I keep running around my wire track going nowhere, accomplishing nothing. If I want to conquer insomnia, I’m going to have to step off this hateful little track and do something different.

Hyper-arousal overrides the sleep drive

Hyper-arousal & Insomnia

Hyper-arousal is a primary symptom of CPTSD or Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. One of a host of symptoms for long-term childhood trauma survivors, hyper-arousal is one of the main things driving insomnia. Hyper-arousal occurs when a person’s body suddenly kicks into high alert as a result of past trauma. Also known as the symptoms of fight, flight, or fawn, hyper-arousal is an automatic response. Even though there may be no present danger, pathways laid down in the early years of life continue to operate. (Please note that hypo-arousal includes the freeze response.) Let me begin with a story from my childhood.

My brother and I were excited because it was Saturday, our favorite day of the week. Saturday morning cartoons, pancakes for breakfast, and time to play with our best friends, Julie and Sally Smith. The same age as we were, they lived across the road and were kind and fun to be with. Julie and Sally were the oldest of five siblings, and their parents were always welcoming. Their family was an oasis of peace, unlike my family which was a sea of constant threat.

Surrounded by broad fields of tobacco curing in the hot Virginia sun, Julie and Sally’s house was not far from our own. Their parents were sharecroppers and, as children, Julie and Sally worked in the fields alongside their parents harvesting tobacco that gave their family the right to live in an old shack and enough money for food until the next planting season but not much else.

The neighbors often whispered about the Smith family’s poverty behind their backs. “At least they keep the kids clean,” I heard one of my mother’s acquaintances say. Poverty did not keep the Smith family from being kind to my brother and me. We loved them and we loved their pitiful broken-down old house and their equally broken-down yard dog that always wagged its tail in greeting.

We played all afternoon at Julie and Sally’s house that long-ago Saturday. Our toes were as brown as the dust of their yard by the time the sun began to set. Knowing we would get in trouble if we stayed away too long, my brother and I hopped on our bikes and followed the dirt road next to the railroad tracks heading toward home.

“What is that?” I shouted as I slowed down. My brother’s eyes followed the point of my finger. There in the center of the tracks lay a lump of unmoving black fur.

“It’s an animal,” my brother yelled.

A terrible sinking feeling hit my stomach. Too distraught to work the pedals, I got off my bike and pushed as tears began streaming down my face. My brother followed suit. I knew without getting any closer that the animal lying on that track was our beloved English Shepherd, Smut, and I knew instinctively that she was dead.

A blood-curdling scream left my brother’s throat. “Smut!” he cried in despair—gulping tremulous breaths of air between shouts. “It’s Smut.”

I joined in with his howls. We stood there screaming the screams of childhood panic and sorrow for several minutes neither of us daring to approach our precious friend. Poor old Smut. Such an awful name for such a wonderful dog, but that was how my mother did things.

“That dog is as black as the smut left by the ashes in the fireplace,” she said when Smut arrived as a puppy. We children were not allowed to name her. My mother alone had that honor.

Faithful and true, Smut would lean against you as you sat on the front steps, her brown eyes filled with empathy as you related your troubles. Good old Smut who never did my brother or me a bad turn. In a family filled with threat and turmoil, she had been our only ally. Lying dead less than a mile away from home, it never entered our minds to call out to our parents. They were the last place we would have gone to for help.

Pushing our bikes, we finally made it to the house, the loveliness of summertime wildflowers obscured by our tears. Emotionless, my mother sent my father to get Smut’s body. He took a shovel and loaded her into his truck and brought her home. She told him to bury her underneath the willow tree in the front yard. It was the only empathy I ever saw my mother express, and it was reserved for the dog, not for us.

Filled with theories of what had happened, my mother offered her opinion. “She probably had a heart attack.”

My father was annoyed. “It’s just a dog. You kids stop crying or you’ll get a whipping.”

Always made to be the problem, I looked at my brother and bit my lip. We both hid our tears, but neither of us ever got over the death of our beloved pet. Our childhood was filled with being ignored or being punished. You never knew which was coming next. When we told Julie and Sally about Smut, they stood beside us under the willow tree and wept. Our parents never noticed.

Childhood trauma is not about one incident. It’s not even about overt abuse. It’s not about normal parental mistakes or ordinary human frailty. It’s about feeling terrorized and confused every waking moment of every single day.

“For childhood trauma survivors, the root of insomnia is found in the arousal system.”

For childhood trauma survivors, the root of insomnia is found in the arousal system. We are all wired to have an arousal response. This system is part of your ‘threat scanner’ that alerts the brain and body there’s a need for a fight, flight (or freeze) response to help you in situations of danger or threat. If the arousal system ‘stays on’ it can impede sleep and can take the form of physiological arousal (difficulty relaxing), cognitive arousal (racing thoughts), or conditioned response (learned response).

To find concrete ways to conquer insomnia read my blog entitled “How Trauma Survivors Can Conquer Insomnia.” To receive a free downloadable and printable ebook about insomnia, go to my website: defytraumaembracejoy.com. Sign up for my newsletter while you’re there! You can also email me to request the insomnia packet using my website.

In Part 2 of this series, which publishes on March 15th, I will examine three key issues:
1) What Childhood Trauma Teaches Us
2) CPTSD & Insomnia
3) The role of the Amygdala in insomnia

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog post do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.