Your nervous system is designed to respond to changing circumstances. Ongoing emotional, physiological, and sometimes trauma-related demands can overwhelm the system, and don’t give it enough opportunity to fully recover.

You keep going.

Because you have to.

Eventually, surviving stops feeling like an emergency response and starts to feel more like your default way of living.

Eventually, the body can begin saying:

“I can’t keep doing this.”

This is where dissociation can become interesting–and confusing.

Dissociation is frequently depicted as something dramatic, but it can be subtle. It can be the experience of sitting across from someone you love and realizing you’re not really there. Or driving somewhere and barely remembering the journey, or like your body goes one way and the car goes the other. But somehow you make it around the bend.

Many describe it as moving through your day on autopilot and being detached from your body. Or spending hours inside your thoughts while your body quietly carries on underneath you. Sometimes disconnection becomes a way of managing too much connection with an experience that previously felt impossible to tolerate.

The system learned:

If I can’t escape what is happening, perhaps I can escape my experience of it.

That strategy can be protective, but what once protected you can now be holding you back and your life in suspension. This is one of the most important things I want people to understand.

Your nervous system does not follow a calendar.

It doesn’t necessarily know:

“That happened twenty years ago, so we’re done with that now.”

It learns via predictions that become patterns.

Through repetition.

Through expectation.

Through what has happened before.

If your system learned that rest was followed by danger, rest may feel uncomfortable.

If it learned that saying no caused conflict, no may feel dangerous. Or that other people’s moods determined your safety…

You may continue scanning faces long after you have left that environment.

If it learned that your body couldn’t be trusted, every unusual sensation might become a reason to worry.

This is why simply telling someone:

“You’re safe now” does not always make you feel safe!

The body needs experiences of safety.

Without force.

This is why I think the word “regulation” can sometimes feel too limited. I don’t want trauma recovery to become another project where we try to get ourselves into the “right” nervous system state.

Because life isn’t one state.

Sometimes you need activation or rest, and the goal isn’t permanent calm.

It’s flexibility.

It is the ability to move through different feelings without getting completely lost in them.

And perhaps even more importantly, staying connected to yourself during those times.

The question becomes: what helps you stay?

With your body when it is uncomfortable?

With yourself when someone is disappointed in you?

What helps you stay present when uncertainty arrives?

What helps you stay as you notice fear without immediately becoming its story?

What helps you stay with anger so that you can speak for it rather than from it?

What helps you stay with the feeling of sadness without deciding that you are broken?

What helps you stay in a restful state without having to earn it first?

What helps you stay with receiving without immediately giving something back?

What helps you stay with your needs and ask for help before you’re completely depleted?

These are not simply psychological skills. They are strongly supported by the practice of embodiment, which helps build those capacities to stay with yourself.

And in truth, it takes practice.

Recovery isn’t about becoming the person you would have been without trauma

I really think this is worth saying. I know I personally fell into the trap of thinking that I needed to erase my history, to rip all the layers off before I could move on. I have since grown a lot, and believe that healing is a living experience.

Recovery can be much simpler than that.

It can look like noticing you’re tired before you’re exhausted.

Leaving before you’re overwhelmed.

Eating before you’re starving.

Saying no before resentment arrives.

Asking for help before you collapse.

Feeling your feet while you’re having a difficult conversation.

Noticing that you’ve disappeared into your thoughts…

and gently coming back.

It can mean learning that your body is not your enemy.

This is where nurturance becomes more important than control

There is a lot of nervous system work that begins with:

How do I regulate this?

Sometimes I think we need another question first, like how I relate to myself.

and

“Can I stay with myself while I learn what this sensation is telling me?” It’s important that your body does not become another battle. We can prevent this by building a different relationship with it.

Our bodies are always trying to help us heal, and a trusting relationship can be built slowly through contact.

Attuned Attention.

Subtle movement that invites you to feel more connected to this moment.

Boundaries are super important, and I go a step further by saying, “Become the embodied boundary.”

As I shared with my LinkedIn following recently

You cannot have inner peace without boundaries, and over the years, I’ve come to realize something that changed the way I understand healing.

You have to become the embodied boundary.

Most people think boundaries begin with words.
“No.”
“That doesn’t work for me.”
“I need space.”

But long before a boundary is spoken, your body has already spoken.
It contracts.
It tightens.
It knows.
And you’re either shrinking, flinching, or noticing as you gather yourself and the information … that your body is constantly gathering anyway.

If you’re disconnected from your body, you’re disconnected from the very intelligence that knows what your needs are to maintain your sovereignty.

I see and teach boundaries as acts of embodiment with far more powerful communication signals than just … words you hope will work …

Here is my potent addition and conviction to embodied healing
➛ if you don’t claim the intelligence of your whole body, your soul has nothing to live through.

Without embodiment, you lose more than the ability to say “no.”
You lose your precious time and place.
Your beautiful energy and vitality slowly wilt; cloudy clarity becomes convincing; intuition is tricked by your fear, and your physical health counts the toll as you lose your sense of home within yourself.

Your body is here to protect what is sacred, which is you and your life and what you bring to this world without an imbalanced physical, emotional, energetic expense account… that is the personal accountability of upholding your boundaries …

Become the embodied boundary, and don’t leave yourself outside your own home…

Everything else has the potential to grow very soundly from there.

• Sensory awareness.
• Connection.
• Appropriate challenge.
• Recovery.

And sometimes medical care, therapeutic support, or other professional help.

This is the heart of what I mean by CoreNeuroCare®.

Not simply teaching someone how to calm down.

But helping them understand the layers beneath the experience, and the ways accumulated stress can alter how we recover and return to some semblance of what we define as life, living, and feeling alive again.

Maybe this short reflective practice can shift something within you today

Instead of asking:

“What’s wrong with me?”

You can begin asking:

“What happened?”

“What have I been carrying?”

“What did my body learn?”

“What is it still attempting to protect me from?”

And then…

perhaps the gentlest question of all:

“What does my body need from me now?”

Not forever.

Not for the rest of your life.

Just now.

• Maybe it needs rest.
• Maybe it needs movement.
• Maybe it needs food.
• Maybe it needs a boundary.
• Maybe it needs another trusted person.
• Maybe it needs medical attention.
• Maybe it needs to cry or laugh.

Maybe it needs to feel the ground, and if all else fails, healing feels really confusing or maybe even disappointing. Always prioritize grounding as a first port of call; it will help to orient your body and reduce the stress of trying to work things out from a disembodied state.

As a final note: your body has always been trying to do its best to help you, and it’s doing so with the information it has at the time. Survival does not have to remain the only way you know how to live.

There can be another chapter.

One built not around forcing yourself forward…

But around learning how to remain connected, centered, and present while seven worlds collide and life is actually happening.

I believe this is where the real work lives and truly begins.

Thanks for stopping by to read, and I’d love to hear how you would define embodiment in the comments.

For it’s a deep feeling that my soul is finally relaxing into this lifetime.

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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

I came across this sentence by Melanie Beattie, who was an American self-help author. Her bestselling books and pioneering voice were in the addiction, recovery, and codependency genres.

Her words struck me like a bolt of lightning about the transformative power that love has within us.

Our world is negative right now, and in all the carnage of war, conflict, and political turmoil, we can forget what’s most important.

Love, in the here and now.

We all need a reminder of the love we have in our lives. The gifts and talents that we possess. The way we live in the world with others.

Look around you. Who are the people closest to you? Who are your colleagues and friends?

Our environment and the way you interact with others have a huge impact on who you are. Do you feel the love from others around you? Are you valued for who you are?

We are all unique, and the way we think and act has the power to change our own lives and those around us.

Melanie’s words remind us that love isn’t just an inner experience, but something that has the potential to emanate from us, and into the world.

Think about it for a moment. If you wake up and walk around as if you have a permanent shadow around you, are you likely to talk to people? Will people want to talk to you? The answer is probably no.

If you go for days without talking to people, you will eventually start feeling lonely. Humans are social creatures, and we need others to lead better lives.

How about instead, you wake up with a positive vibe — even if you’re not feeling it that day — fake it. Pretend you are happy and content. Smile as you mean it and see how many people return that smile.

Do you notice the change in yourself and your surroundings?

Positivity leads to happiness, and if you and those around you are happy, who knows what you can achieve!

Once love has dispersed from you into your wider surroundings, you notice the change immediately through positivity and growth.

Your day feels lighter, and so does your outlook on life.

That deadline doesn’t feel quite so heavy.

You take things in your stride, and it’s infectious. Other people start to notice the happy vibe and copy you.

Only love can empower us to heal ourselves and our world.

Can you harness that healing power into your life?

Sure, you can.

Think about a time when you chose to support a friend or loved one. That is love. Nurturing our relationships makes our bonds with the world stronger.

You become a source of inspiration for others by showing up and allowing positivity into their lives. That is love. By spreading love, empathy, and compassion, you can give a brighter day for everyone.

A smile.

A compliment.

A thank you.

A listening ear.

A small act of kindness.

That is love.

Giving someone a pat on the back for a job well done. Bringing someone a donut because you notice how hard they are working without a break.

Giving your surroundings some love makes you feel great, too. It feels good to make someone smile after giving them a compliment.

What will you do to brighten up your tomorrow?

Everything begins with you.

My name is Lizzy. I’m a trauma survivor, a wife, a mom, a teacher, and an author.

If you like reading my posts, then please follow me.

For more about me: www.elizabethwoodsauthor.com

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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

The quiet isolation of your life as time goes by and the days mesh and interweave to create your reality as best as you can see it, view it, and feel it.

They can keep underestimating your strength to surrender and the strength to fail over and over if it means staying around in whatever capacity that will be. It is easy to be alone; so many people can go it alone and have seemingly everything and even seemingly wonderful relationships of all various kinds. Is it authentic? Who really knows.

A willingness to accept people where they are is fundamental and necessary, and it’s missing from a great many people; that is why you hide, and that is why the few people around you are cautious too.

You are different, and you don’t need to justify that to anyone. As long as you are not intentionally going around hurting people, then you walk your path as you wish. People misunderstand you, and that’s OK. People are hard to understand, let alone put the right words to a situation where your body feels one thing and your mind is rationalizing their behaviors whilst probably questioning your own all at the same time.

I’d rather accept injustice than be unjust. I would rather accept pain and suffering than be arrogant and ignorant. To survive and to be alive are different, and maybe because you have never really been able to come out of survival, things are not what they seem; your body’s perspective is different from your mind’s. That’s OK too; it’s all proportional to your pain and suffering that no one ever saw, and well, if they did, you are here reading this; so, it’s unlikely it was acknowledged and worked through.

Establishing trust after betrayals is an arduous task and takes perseverance, something people in survival mode usually understand. However, different brain stems will take those survival instincts and use them differently in this world. If you do no harm, do not expect all others to view this world the same as you. For some, you are the perfect prey, the perfect light, the perfect societal scapegoat, or simply useful, yet made to feel a burden or a blessing, all time dependent on their needs and wants.

Does this mean that your life and your world is insignificant, no, for inner rivers run deep and the movement of your energy, soul will vibrate through this world in quite a different way. Call it what you will, but all we do here will have lasting ripple effects in the energetic fields of this planet and beyond. Just as water flows, freezes, cracks, rains, pours etc we are human and we are at the mercy of something much greater than us and what legacy can you leave, well does it matter really? Your life speaks for itself and will be written on the winds, in the ocean; your very bones will be of this earth.

Keep your inner light; keep the people you love dear, even if they don’t seem to hold you dear or show it; and radically accept the circumstances of your life. Some will try to tell you that it is completely your doing, the bad in your life, especially if it makes them feel uncomfortable. Some will want to take what is yours, some will steal from you, some will mar, and some will bless. It’s all part of the sum of human happiness, and all the bad in your life is simply not possible to be all your own fault. Nor can others’ reactions be your fault either. It’s an excuse for someone to blame you for their reaction, especially if you are to be held to account for your own consistently, if not constantly.

Let inner strength flow through, you cannot control how another treats you, speak of you, what you can do is be you.

You can own your own mistakes as best you can, and you can change all you like; that will be good enough for others to walk beside you. Yet if others point out all your wrongdoings whilst actively not following through on any promise to you or doing what they said they will do, that is not a reflection of you. That is a choice they are making. Actively making every day of their life, every breath that they take, every excuse they make, and every time they try to pass blame.

You are allowed to grieve the loss of a life you once had or never had. You are allowed to be sad and blue, in your own time for healing, but make sure it is transient by nature. Always stand back up and get out there and get what it is that you need to do done. No excuses; just do what you can each day. Love will be all-encompassing; anyone who professes to love you will stand by you. They will not keep you on the outside; if that is the case, then accept that and let them be. Any emotional reaction that occurs towards that person will be viewed differently by you, so watch and wait and breathe. You are worthy of respect, you are worthy of basic care, and you are worthy of affection, a cuddle, a hug, a goodnight, an I’m sorry and everything in between. Do not dismay if you are discarded, for all are discarded; you are no different. Their time will come.

Think of the beauty in the world, your favorite things; they may be animals, the beach, the wind on your skin, whatever it may be. Then sit with that; even if you don’t pursue it, just think of those things.

You have enough inner strength to sit in quiet reflection and simply observe for a little while rather than doing and trying to be.

The quiet beauty in the world is that many underestimate you, as do you yourself.

There is a quiet knowing underneath…….. so just breath for a little while and it will all flow with a quiet stir from inner inscape once again.

Gemma Sky

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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

Trauma comes in different forms. Physical trauma refers to a person suffering a sudden injury caused by an accident, such as a car crash. Physical trauma heals over time. Bones can be reset in the theatre and will heal again. Bruises and cuts can be nasty, but most heal in time with medical attention.

Psychological or emotional trauma is a different kind of trauma where a person has been in a highly stressful situation that causes a reaction. It can be from witnessing a horrific event or experience where the individual was subjected to harm in some way: for example, being frightened, under threat or abused, ridiculed, harassed, or even rejected without any power to stop it.

Trauma can be caused by witnessing someone being harmed and be powerless to stop it.

Trauma can be caused by living for a long time in a traumatic environment, such as being a prisoner of war or living in an abusive home.

There is also racial trauma where an individual is subjected to racism for whatever reason, which causes a person mental or physical harm.

Our world is troubled, and trauma is a word we hear all around us. It’s on the news every day in some form. Go online or turn on your TV, and there will be a distressing event reported almost immediately from somewhere in the world. Trauma is everywhere, and our world is hurting or in shock over events.

In all this negativity that surrounds us, we must focus on the good that is happening in our lives; otherwise, we will feel overwhelmed.

I’m a survivor of Child Sexual Abuse and witnessed horrific trauma from several sex-related murders. I suffered from most of the different types of traumas I describe in this post before I reached puberty.

My childhood was anything but a childhood, and yet somehow, I’m still alive. I survived where most people would not, and even though my childhood is still haunting me at times, I’m doing okay most of the time.

I’m not afraid to admit that I also have periods when I’m not okay. It’s completely okay to be hurt sometimes when you have suffered child abuse and trauma.

It’s important if you’re a survivor like me and hurting, that you try and seek professional help. A counselor, therapist, or psychiatrist can help and guide you through your trauma reactions.

A Word of Caution

A professional must be a good fit for you to be able to disclose very personal memories. Trauma from child abuse is something that is deeply distressing to talk about, and when you do, you need to feel that the person you choose to reveal your trauma to will comfort you. They need to have the professional ability to make you feel better or give you a way out of the proverbial “woods” and reach the sunshine.

I have a very skilled psychiatrist who specializes in trauma. I went through a lot of different mental health professionals before I found her. Once we met and discussed what I wanted from her, I knew from her responses that she was the right person for me to reveal my past.

It’s not rude to ask a professional to tell you, their credentials.

Those Pesky Feelings

There are times when I have been in the “not okay” phase due to being triggered by trauma memories from my childhood. My therapist collaborates with me through the triggers that caused the way I’m feeling.

One of the first things she says to me is that all feelings are okay. All survivors react differently to traumatic events but it’s vital that we feel them to get rid of them.

Sometimes we lose sight of who we are when we’re triggered, and we go to grounding techniques and breathing. Those work very well when traumatic events are something we have visited before. Our bodies can shrug those away within hours.

Grounding helps to take the immediate sting out of an emotionally charged trauma memory. Sometimes, a reaction is not as simple as that, and we stay traumatized for days and weeks after. The hurt is just too deep to simply go away by itself.

This is when you need professional help to work through that pain and find a way to move back to your equilibrium.

The problem with being in “survival mode” becomes even more pronounced with everything happening around us as we go about our daily lives. Once triggered and feeling traumatized, a second and third trigger will make it so much more difficult to get back on your feet again.

Sometimes, a survivor needs to accept that the pain must come out. So, let it do just that. Let those tears come out and release the floodgates.

I know what I’m asking and yes, it’s gonna hurt A LOT. That big “stone” called grief you keep trying to swallow in your throat will not go away without those complex emotions being released.

Trust me, I know it because I spent years trying not to feel anything.

If those tears won’t come easily as is often the case, then do something real physical like boxing, running or circuits — something that will get that heart pumping until you can do no more! That is sure to get those tears flowing as the adrenaline stops flowing with your body relaxing. It works for me every time. No matter how I feel, I manage to sob my heart out once I’ve exercised until I can do no more.

There is a song by the band: R.E.M, called “Everybody Hurts.” Music is very personal and can bring lots of mixed feelings. For me, this song is an extremely sad song, but it’s full of hope too. It tells the listener to “hold on” and that is a message I want to say to all survivors.

No matter how much you are hurting right now, there is hope and you are not alone. Just like the song dictates “you are not alone.” The song repeats this line.

When I’m triggered and feeling emotionally weak, my brain keeps telling me that I’m alone. That is far from the truth, and I’m sure if you are reading this, that is the case for you as well.

I chose to cut my bio- family out of my life but since I left, I have made so many friends on the way. I have met people that have shaped me into the person that I am today. I have good memories and happiness to draw on when I’m triggered. I’m sure you have too.

Use these happy memories.

My advice is this: No matter how much you are hurting right now, life will get better. Like the song by R.E.M, I want you to hold on because you are not alone. You are in fact incredibly strong to have come as far as you have. You are so much stronger than most people.

You are a survivor.

So, hang in there, hold on and find someone to whom you can talk. Life is for living and being happy.

My revenge on the people that abused me is that I’m still alive in this world. I’m no longer a sex toy to be used and ridiculed. I’m someone who matters to a lot of people.

I’ve always lived by the motto: “Follow your heart and be happy” and “a simple smile can make a huge difference to someone’s life.”

As survivors, we need to hold our heads up high and recognize that we’re good enough just the way we are. We’re strong enough to carry on, and life does get better as we heal.

There’s a new sunrise every day, and with that morning glow comes endless possibilities for a happy day. That starts with you thinking and focusing on what to make of it. Grab that opportunity with both hands and go out there, happy!

You have come a long way. Hold on and remember that you are not alone.

You’ve got this.

My name is Lizzy. I’m a trauma survivor, a wife, a mom, a teacher, and an author.

If you like reading my posts, then please follow me.

For more about me: www.elizabethwoodsauthor.com

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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

Ten years ago, at the age of 50, I finally found the courage to confront my abusive childhood and begin the healing process.  My mother is a pedophile as were the many sick men she brought into our lives.  I was also physically and verbally abused.  The abuse I suffered had instilled a fear in me from a very young age.  Fear of the dark, fear of people, fear of my surroundings.  Fear of the unknown.  And that fear only grew the older I got.

By the time I left home to go to college, I didn’t realize it then, but I was in no way prepared to confront the big, scary world I was about to enter.  My abusive childhood had left me with no groundwork, no tools, so to speak, on how to live a productive and happy life.  When I look back at that 18-year-old I once was, I see a shell-shocked young woman suffering terribly as she continued to fight the many demons of her past. 

Although I wish I had been strong enough to face all that I had been through as a child at an earlier age, I was unable.  And for that reason, I have lived a very difficult life, one filled with chronic pain, substance abuse, depression, and anxiety.  It has not been easy.  I envy the survivors who are able to confront their past sooner than I did and begin healing. 

These past ten years I have spent healing have been eye-opening.  I have written a book about my childhood, and that has been eye-opening as well. 

For years I rarely thought about what I went through as a child because it brought me too much pain.  Once I started on my journey of healing, as the floodgates in my mind opened and the long-buried memories resurfaced, as I wrote, I often felt like I was reading somebody else’s story.  It’s shocking to me how much of my childhood I had buried.  WHO WAS I during those years?  How did I survive?  And, more importantly, how in the world could I have FORGOTTEN what happened?  I understand that my mind did its best to protect me.  Despite that bit of knowledge, the loss of memory continues to spook me.

These past ten years I have faced every demon that has haunted me throughout my life.  Neurofeedback, counseling, Ayahuasca, hypnosis, EMDR, self-help books, listening to podcasts, etc., I have left no stone unturned in my quest for healing. 

I have learned who I am, what makes me tick, and what led me to make the decisions I have made in life.  I overcame years of alcoholism.  I have learned how to calm my nervous system if I am being triggered.  I have learned how to be in the present moment.  I learned patience.  And probably one of the most important lessons I learned was self-compassion. 

As painful as these years have been, I can now look at them with gratitude.  I am single.  My children are adults.  All I have had at this time in my life is to focus on myself and heal.    

When I look back at the person I was ten years ago at the beginning of my journey and compare her to the person I am today, I don’t even recognize myself.  

I have often heard that healing is akin to being a moth in a cocoon.  As the healing progresses, that moth slowly starts turning into a butterfly until one day it pops out of the cocoon whole and complete. 

Well, that is how I feel about my healing.  I have literally become a different person.  I walk differently.  I talk differently.  I have a confidence about me that I have never experienced in my life.  The fear is gone.  THE FEAR IS GONE.   At first I thought I was just having “a good couple of days.”  But those “good couple of days” have turned into months.  The new me is here to stay.  How liberating.

I have no idea where the Universe is going to take me on this next part of my journey, but I know all this healing has definitely set me on the path for a life much happier, healed, and more carefree than I have ever lived.

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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

What are you learning to be more patient with?

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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

What helps you feel emotionally safe?

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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

There is a strange thing that can happen when a trauma survivor finally reaches a quieter life. They do not relax; they wait. They wait for the phone call, the slammed door, the accusation, the shift in someone’s tone, the bill they forgot, the person who seemed fine yesterday but may turn cold today. They wait for the next threat, even when nothing in the room says a threat is present. The body is not being dramatic. It is running an old survival program that once helped that person stay alive, stay prepared, stay watchful, or stay out of the way.

That is one of the crueler parts of trauma recovery. Safety may arrive before the nervous system believes it. A person can be out of the violent home, away from the abusive partner, years removed from the childhood environment, and still feel uneasy when nothing bad is happening. Sometimes the uneasiness gets worse when nothing bad is happening. Calm can feel staged. Quiet can feel temporary. Stability can feel like the pause before someone changes the rules. Kindness can feel like the first move in a longer game.

People who have not lived this often misunderstand it. They may say, “You’re safe now,” as if the survivor missed an obvious fact. They may think reassurance should work quickly because the danger is no longer visible. Some even become hurt or annoyed when the survivor cannot receive peace the way they expected.

But trauma does not train the nervous system through reassurance. It trains through repetition, shock, betrayal, threat, helplessness, and consequence. If safety once disappeared without warning, the body may not trust safety just because the room is quiet.

Safety Is More Than the Absence of Danger

Most people think safety means danger is gone. For trauma survivors, that definition is too thin. Safety is not only the absence of yelling. It is not only the absence of violence, manipulation, chaos, humiliation, addiction, neglect, sexual threat, emotional punishment, or household unpredictability. Those absences are necessary. No one heals well while the injury is still being repeated.

But safety also has to become recognizable inside the body, and this is where many survivors get blindsided. A survivor may enter a genuinely safer environment and still carry an internal alarm system calibrated to the old one. The body may scan for changes in tone. It may track footsteps. It may notice silence that lasts too long. It may read a delayed reply as rejection, facial neutrality as contempt, ordinary conflict as abandonment, or someone else’s mood as an incoming threat.

This is often misperceived a weakness but, in reality, it is conditioning. The nervous system learned that small cues could mean trouble. Sometimes they did. In a dangerous home, the shift from ordinary to unsafe can happen fast. A look across the room may tell a child whether to disappear. A pause in a conversation may tell a partner whether an explosion is coming. A change in breathing may tell someone whether to leave, freeze, flatter, explain, comply, or brace.

Then later, in safer adult life, those same detection systems keep firing. Sure, the danger has changed, but the body has not caught up yet.

Temporary Calm Trains the Body to Wait

One reason safety can feel like a trap is that many trauma survivors did not grow up with steady calm. They grew up with temporary calm and temporary calm is very different.

Temporary calm is the quiet before someone starts drinking again. The soft voice before the accusation, the good day before the withdrawal, the apology before the next incident, the holiday where everyone performs normal life for visitors, the clean kitchen before the screaming starts, and the calm adult who stays calm only until the child makes one wrong sound.

A nervous system raised around temporary calm does not automatically experience quiet as relief – instead, it’s more like a countdown.

That survivor may become more tense when things are peaceful. They may create tasks, problems, plans, or mental noise because stillness leaves too much room for waiting. They may over-prepare, over-check, over-explain, over-clean, or over-function. They may feel restless in healthy relationships because nobody is making them earn their place every few minutes.

Then the shame comes in. They know they “should” enjoy the calm yet may feel guilty for not enjoying it. They may tell themselves they are ungrateful, damaged, difficult, or impossible to satisfy. And that kind of self-attack does not help the nervous system learn safety. In reality, it adds another layer of pressure.

The Body May Associate Safety With Exposure

For some survivors, danger did not arrive when they were already guarded. It arrived when they trusted, slept, disclosed, hoped, loved, laughed, needed, rested, or believed someone. And that personal history leaves a mark.

• If vulnerability was punished, the body may treat peace as exposure.
• If tenderness was followed by betrayal, kindness may feel suspicious. If rest was interrupted by chaos, sleep may feel unsafe.
• If asking for help led to ridicule or punishment, dependence may feel humiliating.
• If happiness drew jealousy, mockery, sabotage, or control, joy may feel risky.

This is why a survivor may seem calm during crisis but uneasy during intimacy.

Crisis is familiar and gives the body a job. The survivor knows how to assess, act, manage, scan, solve, or endure. Quiet safety asks for something much more difficult. It asks the survivor to lower the shield without knowing, at first, whether lowering it is a wise or safe move. For someone who survived repeated harm, the fear is not always danger itself. Sometimes the fear is being unprepared for danger. Vigilance can feel like participation while trust can feel like standing still in a room where the exits have not been checked.

That is a large request for a nervous system that learned survival by staying ready.

Why Safer Life Can Feel Worse at First

From the outside, mistrust of safety can look confusing. A survivor may pull away from stable people and may become irritable when life improves. They may feel emotionally flat after good news, mistrust a partner who is consistent, and feel more anxious after leaving the unsafe situation than they felt while inside it. That last one especially confuses people, but it happens.

During active survival, the body often stays organized around immediate demands. Get through the day, keep the peace, watch the mood, protect the children or pets, hide the evidence, make the money, say the right thing, avoid the explosion, and by all means, do not collapse… yet.

Once the survivor gets out, the body may finally begin releasing what it had to hold. And that release can feel like deterioration when it is delayed impact. The survivor may think they are feeling worse because distance gives the system room to reveal the damage. That does not mean the safer life is wrong. It means the nervous system needs time, repetition, and evidence. Not one peaceful day, not one kind conversation, not one safe person making promises, but repeated evidence for your body and mind. In other words, safety has to stop being an idea and become lived experience.

Rebuilding Safety Is Often Repetitive Work

Real safety recovery is not usually a sudden breakthrough where the survivor announces they are healed and then moves through life regulated forever. Instead, it may look like noticing that someone disagreed without punishing you, going to sleep and waking up without crisis, asking a simple question and receiving a simple answer, a partner staying steady during inconvenience, a friend respecting a boundary without sulking, a therapist not rushing interpretation, or the survivor leaving a room and realizing no one chased them, mocked them, or made them pay for it later.

Small evidence counts because trauma was often built from small evidence too. The nervous system did not learn danger only from major events, it learned from the repeated signals surrounding those events. Tone, timing, facial shifts, silence, footsteps, doorways, names called from another room, text messages, late arrivals, alcohol breath, forced smiles, and the false calm before punishment.

So recovery often requires a new body record. Consistency is not glamorous, but it can be corrective.

Safe People Do Not Demand Instant Trust

One of the cleanest ways to assess safety is to watch how people respond to a survivor’s pace. Unsafe people often demand trust as proof of loyalty. They rush disclosure, punish hesitation, frame boundaries as rejection, become offended when the survivor needs time, and may say, “After everything I’ve done for you, you still don’t trust me?”

That is not safety, it’s pressure with better manners. Safe people do not need instant access and do not treat a trauma survivor’s caution as an insult. They understand that trust built under pressure is compliance, not trust. This does not mean survivors should never challenge their fear. Avoidance can shrink a life until the person is technically protected but emotionally imprisoned. Healing does require risk, practice, and contact with situations that are uncomfortable but not actually dangerous.

But the pace has to make sense because a survivor needs enough challenge to grow and enough control to stay present. Too little challenge can keep life small but too much challenge can recreate helplessness. That middle ground is where real trauma work often lives.

The Goal Is Accurate Response, Not Constant Calm

A healthy nervous system does not feel safe every second. That’s a good thing because that would not be realistic or useful. The goal is accuracy. An accurate response.

A recovering trauma survivor learns, slowly, to tell the difference between old danger and current risk. Between discomfort and threat. Between disappointment and abandonment. Between someone’s bad mood and personal danger. Between a pause and rejection. Between privacy and secrecy. Between conflict and catastrophe.

That takes work because trauma compresses categories and teaches the body to treat many different signals as one warning: harm is coming. Recovery begins separating those signals again.

That process is not always smooth especially when survivors overcorrect. They may trust too fast in one season and trust no one in the next, mistake boredom for safety or intensity for connection, and may confuse predictability with emotional deadness because chaos once felt like proof that something serious was happening.

This is where patience has to be practical rather than sentimental and that’s why the nervous system needs new data, and new data takes time.

When Safety Starts to Feel Real

Safety begins to feel real when the body stops waiting for every calm moment to turn. It may happen quietly. For examples, a survivor realizes they did not flinch when the phone rang, did not rehearse 12 explanations before answering a message, have finally slept through the night, allowed someone to be mildly disappointed without rushing to fix it, and accepted kindness without immediately searching for the catch.

For a trauma survivor, these are not minor moments – they often signal steps in a major nervous-system correction. Safety does not become real because someone announces it. It only becomes real when the survivor’s body has enough repeated evidence to stop treating peace as a setup.

That is why telling themselves “you’re safe now” can feel hollow when it is said too soon. Instead, saying “my body may need time to believe what my life is trying to show it” is more accurate. It also accurately reflects the work. Not forced trust, not denial, and not pretending the past is over because the address changed, the relationship ended, or the crisis passed. The work is teaching the body, through repeated reality, that calm does not always mean danger is waiting behind the door.

Sometimes calm is just calm and, for many survivors, believing that is not the beginning of recovery – it is one of the hardest-earned outcomes.

Sources

Courtois, C. A., & Ford, J. D. (2016). Treatment of complex trauma: A sequenced, relationship-based approach. Guilford Press.

Herman, J. L. (1992). Trauma and recovery: The aftermath of violence from domestic abuse to political terror. Basic Books.

National Institute of Mental Health. (2025). Post-traumatic stress disorder. U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.

Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. (2014). SAMHSA’s concept of trauma and guidance for a trauma-informed approach. U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.

U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, National Center for PTSD. (2025). Complex PTSD. U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs.

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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

How have you changed through healing?

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

In the days leading up to “official” adulthood, I’d convinced myself that once I exited childhood, the fear and helplessness wouldn’t penetrate as deeply. I was wrong.

Those things only intensified, and I felt helpless in the face of my powerlessness to thwart them. An adult by law now, I still possessed the mangled nervous system of a terrified child who’d long held the responsibilities of an adult. My 18th birthday felt like a cruel joke.

I became an adult long before society deemed me one. My childhood, though it held many glimmers of happiness, had also been suffocated by responsibilities that weren’t mine to bear. The people who should have buffered me from the pain that life sometimes delivers were often instead the perpetrators of chaos and heartache. Furthermore, they often saddled me with the cumbersome weight of adult burdens, expecting me to wear the heavy cloth of unreasonable expectations with a smile. In many ways, the roles of parent and child were reversed; this phenomenon is known as “parentification.” 

Parentification comes at a grueling cost. You learn to take responsibility for things that aren’t yours to bear. You protect the fragile emotions of others at the expense of your own and provide emotional support in places where you should receive it. In other words, you care for those who should care for you. Along the way, you develop a tangled web of unhealthy coping mechanisms. 

As if being robbed of vital pieces of childhood during your childhood isn’t enough, you may carry these burdens into adulthood. This might manifest in several ways, including but not limited to: 

• Social isolation related to exhaustion, fear, and an inability to relate to people your own age or people in general.
• Viewing your needs as burdens.
• Carrying a nameless guilt that seems to bear no origin and strangles your ability to live in the moment. 
• Measuring your worth by what you can do for others and/or accomplishments.
• Caring for others at a cost to yourself and/or finding it impossible to say “no.” 
• Difficulty expressing emotions while feeling responsibility for other people’s feelings.

A quarter of a century after my “formal” induction into adulthood, I mourn the innocence that was torn from my grasp in the dawning years of my life. Longing for the pieces of my childhood that I never lived, I feel pangs of sadness for the fragments of my adulthood that remain trapped in the shadows of my childhood. And…I feel gratitude. While the most vigorous parts of my healing journey have only recently begun to take shape, and chaos has not been a stranger to me as an adult, the weight of my childhood burdens has not broken my back.

Over time, I instead built a backbone of steel. As a child, I didn’t have the strength to wrestle for control nor the power to negotiate my fate. Somehow, I never let the weight completely crush me. My persistence continued into adulthood. While I’ve lived in survival mode for much of my life, I’ve defied the odds again and again. Chances are, if you’re reading this, so have you. We’re part of a club we never asked to join.

In the early stages of rewiring my discombobulated nervous system, I’m no longer afraid, and I’m not powerless. In fact, I’d say the opposite is true. I’ve been told I’m “formidable” and a “force to be reckoned with.”

I agree. I don’t know if I would’ve become this version of myself if not for the pain that paved the way. When I reflect on the fearful, mild-mannered, and shy child I was, I’m surprised by the confidence I bear as an adult. I’m no longer mild, and though feeling safe is an uphill battle, I wouldn’t say I’m always fearful either.

In reflecting on who I was as a child and who I am now, I realize that the common trait I carried from childhood into adulthood is strength. I didn’t have any other choice. As I navigated one nightmare after another, I dug into my reservoir of fortitude. I learned to put up a fight and to keep going even when exhaustion weighed me down. I learned to persevere. Less poetic, but equally true, eventually I arrived at a blissful place where I no longer take anyone’s crap. Over time, those things added up to the person I am today. There’s one word that best captures what I’m describing: resilience. 

In being forced to grow up before we’re ready, many of us develop resilience. Or…maybe we’re born with it? What does the word “resilience” mean? Well, you’ve heard the term, “to hell and back,” right? Resilience is essentially the ability to come back from hell…again, and again, and again. Resilience is not always born in trauma, but I think it takes on a unique “flavor” when it’s rooted in the challenges of “growing up early.” Those of us who “became adults” as children first used our resilience to survive. As a result, we started adulthood both behind and ahead of the metaphorical “starting line.” We entered “adulthood” exhausted and knowing too much.

We see the world through weary, sometimes cynical eyes that belong to a much older person. Have you ever been told you’re old or wise “for your age?” Me too. Although I’d love to have an even-keeled nervous system and a mind that doesn’t play out worst-case scenarios by default, I appreciate the wisdom and strength within me that emerged early; it’s only intensified with time. Furthermore, because of my cynicism and ability to read between the lines, I can detect BS from a mile away, and I’m not afraid to call people out if they have it coming. I’ve been silenced long enough, and my patience for what I refer to as “reindeer games” expired a lonnnng time ago. 

Furthermore, although it’s aggravating to have a hypervigilant nervous system that sometimes drags me into overly strong bodily and mental reactions to small things. The “big stuff” doesn’t really faze me in the same way it seems to others. I view life as a bit of a jack-in-the-box, and I know there’s always more crap rolling down the line. And…I know I can deal with whatever it is because I’ve dealt with so much already. 

I’ve crammed the pain of multiple lifetimes into one. This probably explains why I’ve never felt “my age.” Suspended between youth and old age, some days, I feel closer to age 70 both mentally and physically. But…something’s shifting. As I heal, some days I feel seven, but not the burdened seven-year-old I was. I see glimpses of the real seven; as I heal, I experience moments of unfettered joy that sparkled like rare diamonds in the dark cave of my childhood but could never be held.

I’ve learned a thing or two since then, though. Perhaps it’s because I feel like I’m at a place in my life where there’s less time left, but my goal has shifted from survival to thriving. Please join me. We’ve been surviving for far too long. It’s time to live.

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