Let’s get honest about trauma – it’s not just a thing that happens to you, it can be a full-system hijack of your entire psychological infrastructure.
Weird fact. Most people who’ve experienced serious trauma don’t even recognize how deeply it’s reshaping their entire existence. We’re walking around with an internal alarm system that’s permanently set to DefCon 1, and most of us don’t even know it.
Hypervigilance isn’t a choice. It’s survival mode hardwired into your nervous system. You’re not paranoid, you’re literally programmed to scan for threats constantly because once, in your past, not seeing the danger meant not surviving. People with trauma often describe themselves as empathic, or a person who is good at reading emotions or sensing danger, real or imaginary. You may be that way because it’s a skill or sense you possess, but often that skill is honed in trauma. If you aren’t sure what is walking through the door as a child you might just learn to keep your radar on, and some of you can’t turn it off.
Control issues? They’re not about being a difficult person, they may be about survival. When trauma strips away your sense of safety, control becomes your only perceived protection. Every micromanaged interaction, every rigid boundary, every meticulously planned moment is just your nervous system screaming, “I will NOT be vulnerable again.”
In our years of working with trauma survivors, I’ve seen how these survival mechanisms play out in relationships. You push people away before they can hurt you. You create impossible tests to see if they’ll leave. You oscillate between desperate connection and total emotional shutdown. It’s not manipulation. It’s protection. Your brain doesn’t understand the difference between past threat and present safety. Your body keeps the score, as Bessel van der Kolk would say. Every trigger is a time machine taking you back to the moment everything broke.
Some of us have tried talk therapy. Some of us have done years of traditional counseling. But here’s the thing about trauma: It lives in your body, not just your mind. Advanced approaches like neurofeedback offer a way to actually reset those deeply ingrained neural pathways. It’s not magic, it’s neurological recalibration.
Relationship challenges? They’re practically guaranteed. Trust becomes this fragile, impossible thing. Intimacy feels like walking through a minefield blindfolded. You’re simultaneously craving connection and terrified of it. Your attachment style becomes this complex algorithm of protection and vulnerability.
I have no research to support this beyond decades of watching humans survive, but here’s what I know: trauma survivors are some of the most resilient, complex, brilliant humans on the planet. They don’t just survive, they reconstruct themselves, piece by painful piece. Some of you know exactly what I’m talking about. The constant internal narrative. The exhaustion of being perpetually alert. The way your nervous system can shift from zero to nuclear in a microsecond.
But here’s the beautiful paradox: you can rewrite the story. You’re not just one story that you can never change. You can branch of the main storyline and create new and better adventures. Your hypervigilance? That’s keen awareness. Your control mechanisms? That’s adaptive intelligence. Your relationship complexity? That’s deep emotional understanding.
Trauma doesn’t have to be your identity, maybe its just a chapter in your story, not the whole damn book.
You are not what happened to you. You are what you choose to become.
A few years ago, in a trauma group I was leading, a woman shared about her afternoon and the fearful event she had endured just prior to group. She was in a McDonalds parking lot when two men in hoodies, with the hoods up, approached her in the twilight. As a victim of trauma she was keenly aware of danger and had struggled all her life to trust men, especially strangers. Some time in her past she had been attacked by men, beaten and raped. That late afternoon in the parking lot her radar came on and the meter went through the roof. As she walked across the parking lot she felt her pulse quicken, she began to sweat. She started to panic. In her mind she imagined violations galore and began to catastophize and soon found herself running to the door of the restaurant, in a state of extreme duress. She grabbed the door, threw it open, and fled into the bright lights.