How Our Inner State Shapes the Way We See the World
In the same room, three people stand side by side — yet each looks out of a different window.
One sees harmony.
Another sees chaos.
The third sees hell.
These three windows represent how we experience life through our nervous system.
Each window filters the world through the lens of our past experiences — shaping not just what we see, but how we feel and respond to what’s in front of us.
What’s often misunderstood is that it’s almost impossible to truly comprehend the views from the other windows when you’re looking through your own. From the ventral window, it’s difficult to grasp the sheer pain or panic seen through the survival or dorsal lenses. From dorsal, harmony is visible only in others — a distant concept that feels unreachable. You may know joy exists, yet you cannot feel it. When you are disconnected or in despair, hope belongs to someone else’s world, not yours. Each state carries its own reality — and until safety returns, that reality feels absolute.
Window One: Ventral (Harmony)
When our nervous system feels safe, we experience the world through the ventral lens — a state of connection, calm, and presence.
From this window, life feels balanced. We can love, laugh, learn, and grow. We can think clearly and trust others.
Secure attachment, consistent care, belonging, respect, purpose, and emotional safety form the foundation of this view. Our inner sense of safety is mirrored in our outer world. Relationships feel stable. We have space for empathy and curiosity. We can see possibility.
This is where self-worth, compassion, and authentic connection thrive.
Window Two: Survival (Chaos)
When early life or ongoing stressors threaten safety — whether through wilful or unintentional neglect — our nervous system shifts into survival mode.
Parents working long hours, bullying, poverty, frightening experiences, discrimination, war, or abuse — all can disrupt the sense of safety needed for secure attachment. Even well-meaning disconnection leaves a child vulnerable and alone with feelings too big to manage.
Through the survival window, the world looks dangerous and unpredictable.
Our body prepares to fight or flee.
Emotions run high.
We feel anxious, reactive, and on edge.
The body doesn’t trust stillness — it confuses calm with risk.
Survival mode serves a purpose — it’s the body’s way of saying I need to stay alive. But living here long-term exhausts us. We can’t rest, we can’t feel safe, and we can’t connect — because safety feels foreign.
Window Three: Dorsal (Collapse)
When fear, terror, and abandonment become too much to bear, the nervous system shuts down to survive.
This is the dorsal state — a barren, hell-like landscape where life feels empty and hopeless.
It’s a form of self-protection through disconnection.
People here often describe feeling numb, detached, or invisible.
It’s not weakness — it’s the body’s last attempt to save itself.
For some, this shutdown can become so deep that the desire to disappear or thoughts of not wanting to exist emerge. These thoughts often reflect the body’s wish for the pain to stop, not a genuine desire for death. It’s a profound expression of hopelessness — a survival response to unbearable fear, loneliness, or despair.
This is the realm often associated with addiction, depression, self-abandonment, and despair. When life has always been unsafe, the nervous system moves between survival and dorsal — never reaching ventral safety.
It’s crucial that society begins to understand this. Assisted suicide bills should never see the light of day without first acknowledging and understanding the dorsal state. Many people who lose hope are not making a conscious choice to die — they are trapped in a physiological state where life feels impossible.
With safety, compassion, and connection, even those deep in dorsal collapse can recover.
Life can and does improve when the nervous system begins to experience safety again.
The Beliefs That Shape Our Biology
We are not born with limiting beliefs — we learn them.
Our earliest experiences teach us who we are and whether the world is safe.
When a child’s emotional needs go unmet, the brain searches for meaning. To preserve the attachment with a caregiver — even one who causes harm — the child’s developing mind concludes:
“It can’t be them… it must be me.”
And so, deep below conscious awareness, beliefs take root:
I’m not good enough.
I don’t belong.
I’m too much.
I’m unlovable.
It’s my fault.
These beliefs aren’t truths — they are protective adaptations. They form in an attempt to make sense of emotional pain and to stay connected to those we depend on.
But over time, these beliefs shape our neurobiology — influencing how our nervous system responds to the world.
When we believe we are unworthy of love, the body braces for rejection.
When we believe the world is unsafe, the nervous system stays hyper-alert.
When we believe we don’t matter, we unconsciously move toward collapse.
These internalised stories become filters through which we interpret every word, gesture, and silence. They influence our relationships, our choices, and even how we perceive facial expressions and tone of voice.
Generationally, these beliefs — and the survival responses they create — are passed down. A parent who has never known safety cannot easily teach it. A nervous system shaped by fear raises another nervous system shaped by vigilance.
This is how trauma becomes woven through families and societies — not because of weakness, but because of adaptation.
Society, too, carries its own inherited beliefs — passed down through generations as unspoken rules of survival. When people were taught that expressing feelings was a sign of weakness, that message served a purpose once — to help communities stay strong and functional during hard times. The same applies to beliefs like “Don’t expect too much” or “Be grateful for what you’ve got.” During wartime or periods of scarcity, such beliefs offered protection and control in chaos. Yet, when those conditions no longer exist, these old rules continue to shape behaviour — stifling emotional expression, limiting self-worth, and keeping humanity collectively restrained by the echoes of survival.
The pioneering work of Dr. Stephen Porges and his Polyvagal Theory helps us understand how these adaptations live within the nervous system — shaping our perception of safety, danger, and connection. Similarly, Dr. Daniel Siegel’s research in Interpersonal Neurobiology illuminates how our brains and relationships are intertwined; how safety and attuned connection literally rewire the brain. Together, their work shows that healing doesn’t happen in isolation — it happens through safe relationships, connection, and understanding the body’s intelligent design to protect us.
Behaviours Are Expressions of State
Our behaviours are not random. They’re outer expressions of inner experiences.
When we understand nervous system states, we understand people.
To someone anchored in ventral safety, the world feels stable and trustworthy. Boundaries make sense. Reasoning feels natural. But to someone in survival or dorsal, the same restriction can feel like a threat to existence.
For those in survival, restrictions trigger panic — they fight to stay free because safety has always meant control or danger.
For those in dorsal, restrictions confirm hopelessness — they give up, seeing no way out.
This is why the same situation evokes vastly different reactions.
We see through the window we’re standing at.
Understanding the Nervous System is Understanding Humanity
When we meet people through the lens of judgement rather than curiosity, we miss the truth of their pain.
When we impose rather than co-regulate, we deepen the disconnection.
Safety, truth, and compassion are the foundations for healing — not control, fear, or manipulation.
Untruths, gaslighting, and emotional deceit destabilise the nervous system. They unanchor us, creating confusion and mistrust.
We’ve seen this globally — from governments, media, and systems that promised protection yet caused harm. The result? Collective dysregulation. A world in chaos.
Co-Regulation Before Self-Regulation
No one learns self-regulation in isolation.
Co-regulation — being soothed and held in the safety of another’s calm presence — must come first.
Only then can the nervous system internalise what safety feels like and begin to self-regulate.
We need one another. Healing begins in relationship.
The World as a Mirror of Our State
The outer world reflects our collective inner state.
During the pandemic, we saw survival mode on full display — people fighting over supplies, hoarding, taking more than they needed.
It wasn’t just greed. It was fear.
Survival mode is, by definition, selfish — it’s the body’s instinct to save itself.
But survival of the fittest isn’t the same as preservation of humanity.
When we abandon empathy, we abandon ourselves.
If you recognise yourself in the words above, please know this: the state you’re in is not who you are — it’s where your nervous system is. Healing is always possible. Even when it feels hopeless, the body and brain can find their way back to life, connection, and safety.
If you are struggling with thoughts of ending your life or feeling that you can’t go on, please reach out for support. You are not alone. You are not broken. You are a human being doing your best to survive — and there is always a way back to safety.
🌍 Wherever you are, there is help available:
- UK: Call Samaritans at 116 123, or text SHOUT to 85258 for free, confidential help.
- USA: Call or text 988 to reach the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline.
- Canada: Call or text 988 for the Suicide Crisis Helpline.
- Australia: Call Lifeline at 13 11 14 or text 0477 13 11 14.
- If you are outside these regions: Visit findahelpline.com for a global directory of local and international crisis helplines in your country.
The Way Forward
The solution is presence.
Anchoring in truth.
Returning to the body, the breath, the moment.
From here, mind, body, and soul can reconnect.
When we learn to recognise which window we’re looking through — and extend compassion to those looking through another — we begin to heal not only individually, but collectively.
Truth and safety restore trust.
Trust restores connection.
Connection restores humanity.
And that’s where we’ll find our way home — together, through the window of harmony.
May we all learn to see one another through the window of compassion — remembering that every person is viewing life through their own story of survival, strength, and hope. When we return to love, truth, and presence, we return to humanity itself — and from there, healing begins.
Written by
Deborah J Crozier
Person-Centred, Trauma-Informed Practitioner
Chartered Fellow (ACCPH)
Human Observer — Rooted in Love and Truth – Faith in Humanity.