The Nervous System Isn’t Asking Your Permission
It is almost impossible to fully convey the impact of nervous system activation to someone who has never experienced it. What may look, from the outside, like being “over-sensitive,” “attention-seeking,” or “childish” is, on the inside, a state of terror.
The person is not reacting to the present moment as others see it — they are reacting to something their nervous system has recognised from the past as dangerous.
The threat may be invisible to others, but it is completely real to the person experiencing it.
Benjamin Fry describes this powerfully in The Invisible Lion:
When someone has been through trauma, it is as if there is a lion in the room that nobody else can see.
The nervous system remembers.
It reacts as though the threat is happening again — even when the rational mind knows it isn’t.
This is where the internal conflict begins:
- The thinking brain says “I should be fine.”
- The survival brain says “I am not safe.”
Outside, everything appears calm.
Inside, the system is in alarm.
This disconnection can be deeply confusing and disorientating.
Because no one else is running, shouting, freezing, shaking, or crying, the person often turns the fear inward:
“What’s wrong with me?”
instead of the far more accurate:
“What happened to me?”
Where Shame Enters
For many with complex trauma, this internalisation began long before adulthood.
If you grew up hearing — spoken or unspoken — that:
- Your emotions were “too much”
- Your needs were “inconvenient”
- Your reactions were “dramatic”
- Your pain was “exaggerated”
then it becomes easy, even automatic, to believe:
“The problem is me.”
Not the circumstances.
Not the environment.
Not the trauma.
Just me.
The body remembers fear.
The mind remembers shame.
And when the nervous system becomes activated later in life, the shame does not calm the system —
it intensifies it.
Shame adds another layer of threat inside the body.
Shame says:
- “You’re weak.”
- “You’re failing.”
- “You should be past this.”
- “Everyone else manages.”
And so the trauma cycle continues:
- A trigger activates survival mode.
- The body reacts.
- Shame interprets the reaction as proof of being “broken.”
- The reaction worsens.
- The person blames themselves.
This is not pathology.
This is adaptation.
The nervous system learned to protect life in an environment that did not feel safe.
The behaviour is not the problem.
The environment that shaped it was.
So, What Is Trauma?
Trauma is an overwhelming experience that the nervous system could not resolve or process at the time.
What Is Post-Traumatic Stress?
It is that overwhelming past experience being re-activated by similar dynamics in the present.
The survival system is doing exactly what it was designed to do — protect life — but now out of context.
This means:
- The fear is real to the body.
- The brain is in survival mode.
- Reasoning, communication, and emotional regulation are hijacked.
- The person is not choosing their reaction — they are being carried by it.
From the outside, it may look irrational.
We even have shaming labels for it:
- “Throwing a tantrum”
- “Spitting the dummy”
- “Acting like a child”
But from the inside, it feels like:
- A siren has gone off in the body.
- The mind is flooded with alarm.
- The person is trying to survive something no one else can see.
Healing does not mean the fear was never real.
It means the nervous system finally found safety.
The Real Question Is Not:
“Why are they behaving like that?”
The Real Question Is:
“What danger does their nervous system believe is present?”
And then:
Can we meet that moment with compassion instead of judgment?
When You See a “Big Reaction” — Pause
The next time you witness what looks like:
- “Attention-seeking”
- “Overreacting”
- “Being dramatic”
- “Oversensitive”
Pause.
Ask:
“What am I really witnessing here?”
Could this be survival mode out of context?
Chances are, it is.
And the real solution is not discipline, dismissal, or correction.
The real solution is safety.
T R U S T
A trauma-informed relational framework:
T — Trigger Recognition
See what is happening beneath the behaviour.
It’s not attention-seeking — it’s attention-needing.
R — Reassurance
Calm presence regulates more than any instruction ever will.
U — Understanding
What looks irrational on the outside often feels life-or-death on the inside.
S — Safety
Safety is communicated through relationship, tone, proximity, breath, warmth, pacing.
T — Truth
“You’re not in danger now. I’m here with you. You are safe.”
This is how we stop reacting to the behaviour and start responding to the nervous system.
This is how we replace shame with understanding.
This is how we create connection where there was once fear.
This is how healing begins.
Ask about of Free Trauma Informed TRUST training and resources - advocating for a Trauma informed society
What Looked Like Nothing, Felt Like Everything
A reflection on trauma responses people don’t see
Years ago, I had just started a new job — I’d only been there about a week. One day, I went off to a meeting elsewhere in the building. When I came back, the office I usually worked in was completely closed. The lights were off, the door was locked, and no one was there.
I hadn’t expected that.
No one had mentioned anything to me.
It turned out that everyone had gone to work in a different office for the afternoon. For them, this was normal — something that happened occasionally. But I was new. I didn’t know this was something that could happen. And no one realised I didn’t know.
From the outside, it was a small, ordinary oversight.
But inside my body, something much bigger began.
My stomach tightened. My chest grew warm. My mind started racing, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. There was no threat in the room — there wasn’t even anyone in the room — yet my nervous system reacted as though I was suddenly unsafe.
This was a trauma response.
Not to the situation itself, but to what similar situations had meant in my past:
“You’ve been left out.”
“You don’t belong.”
“They didn’t think to include you because you’re not wanted.”
None of those thoughts were based in the present moment —
but they were loud, familiar, and believable.
Because our bodies remember what our minds have long tried to move past.
And in the past, I would have acted from that place.
I would have left the building.
Or shut down.
Or convinced myself I’d made a mistake in ever thinking I belonged there.
I might even have resigned — just to avoid the pain of feeling unwanted.
And from the outside, it would have looked like I was being:
- overly sensitive,
- dramatic,
- childish,
- or attention-seeking.
Because that’s all you can see if you only see the behaviour.
But inside, it was survival.
This is the part many people never realise:
| What Others Saw | What I Was Experiencing Internally |
| A new colleague working quietly | A nervous system in full activation |
| A harmless oversight | A perceived threat to belonging and safety |
| Nothing happening at all | A resurfacing of old wounds and memories |
We were in the same environment, but we were living completely different realities.
How can two people be in the same moment but living two completely different realities — and neither one is wrong?
That question changed everything.
Because this time, something was different.
I noticed the response as it happened.
I was able to say to myself:
“This feels like rejection, but that doesn’t mean it is rejection.”
The feelings were real.
The fear was real.
The physical response was real.
But the story attached to them was old.
So instead of running, hiding, or shutting down,
I stayed with myself.
I breathed.
I walked slowly.
I let the sensations rise and fall, without making them into a conclusion.
Later, when I rejoined the others, I saw the truth:
There was no tension.
No avoidance.
No shift in tone.
No hidden meaning.
No one was thinking about me at all — and not in a painful way, but in an ordinary way.
They genuinely hadn’t realised.
There was no exclusion.
No judgement.
No rejection.
It was simply a moment I interpreted through the lens of my past.
And in that moment, I saw something essential:
People cannot respond to what they cannot see.
They didn’t know what my nervous system was holding.
And I didn’t need to blame them.
Because the healing didn’t come from others behaving differently.
The healing came from me recognising the story as it emerged — and choosing not to follow it.
Why This Matters
This is why trauma-informed understanding is so important.
Not to analyse each other.
Not to tiptoe around one another.
But to remember:
Behaviour is not the whole story.
A person who goes quiet may not be shutting people out —
they may be holding themselves together.
A person who steps away may not be being rude —
they may be trying not to collapse.
A person who “seems fine” may be fighting an entire internal storm that no one can see.
When we understand this,
we stop asking:
“Why are they acting like that?”
and begin asking:
“I wonder what this moment might feel like for them?”
That is where compassion lives.
That is where connection becomes possible.
That is where belonging begins — not in being included, but in being understood as human.
Professional Insight: What This Teaches Us About Healing
Understanding this experience has shaped how I support others.
When I realised my reaction was a nervous system response rather than a personal failing, my entire perspective shifted. I stopped viewing behaviours like withdrawal, shutdown, emotional overwhelm, or silence as “overreactions” — and started recognising them as the body’s way of trying to stay safe.
This matters, because when someone is triggered:
- They are not choosing to react.
- They are not being dramatic.
- They are not being difficult.
- They are responding to something that once protected them.
The nervous system remembers experiences long after the mind thinks they have been resolved.
And once we understand that, our role changes:
| Before | After |
| Why are they acting like this? | What is their nervous system trying to protect them from? |
| Trying to reason someone out of their feelings | Supporting regulation and safety first |
| Interpreting behaviour personally | Understanding behaviour as adaptation |
| Responding to the story | Responding to the state |
This insight is foundational to trauma-informed practice:
Regulation comes before reasoning.
Safety comes before insight.
Compassion comes before intervention.
When we meet people at the level of the nervous system, rather than the level of behaviour, we create the conditions for healing instead of shame.
For me, staying in that moment — not running, not abandoning myself — became living proof that healing is possible.
Not because the trigger disappeared, but because I didn’t disappear when it came.
And that is where trauma begins to lose its power.
That is where belonging begins.
Inside the body — not in the behaviour of others.
In Closing
So I return again to this question, because it changed me:
How can two people be in the same moment but living two completely different realities — and neither one is wrong?
We don’t need to agree on the reality.
We only need to remember there may be more than one.
When we hold space for that,
we make room for compassion — for ourselves and each other.
And slowly, gently, we learn to stay.
Beyond Blame: Understanding Incel Identity Through Attachment, Not Outrage
There is a growing concern in education, safeguarding, and mental health fields about the influence of figures like Andrew Tate and others who appeal to boys and young men. It can feel easy — and even comforting — to say the problem starts with these influencers. But when we place the blame solely on external personalities, we risk missing what is actually happening beneath the behaviour.
The incel identity, and the behaviours associated with it, do not begin with ideology.
They begin with pain.
They begin with attachment wounds — the parts of a young person that did not feel chosen, secure, mirrored, supported, encouraged, or understood when they most needed to be. Influencers do not create that wound. They simply give language to it. They speak into the ache.
And when a young person finally hears someone name their hidden shame or loneliness — even in a distorted way — it can feel like belonging.
This is why arguments, lectures, and blame rarely shift these identities.
They speak to the behaviour, not the wound beneath it.
A Shame-Based Identity, Not Defiance
Many young people drawn into incel thinking have experienced:
- Emotional neglect (even in caring families)
- Repeated feelings of rejection or invisclusion
- Difficulty forming social or romantic connections
- A lack of emotionally present male role models
- Limited emotional language or space to talk about loneliness
The result is shame — the sense of “I am not wanted as I am.”
Shame is unbearable to sit with alone.
So the psyche builds a defence:
“The problem is not me. The problem is women. The problem is society. The problem is everyone else.”
This is not arrogance.
This is protection.
It is the nervous system trying to survive emotional pain.
The Self-Awareness Scale
We can understand this more clearly by looking at the Self-Awareness Scale:
- On one end of this scale, we find people-pleasing — the collapse of the self to gain approval.
- On the other end, we find narcissistic defence — the inflation of the self to avoid shame.
- In the centre is congruence — the grounded ability to remain connected to oneself and others at the same time.
We all move along this scale.
No one is fixed to one end.
This is not about diagnosing, labelling, or blaming.
It is about recognising:
- what our protective patterns are,
- what they are protecting us from,
- and how they impact the relationships around us.
Self-awareness is the goal.
Not perfection. Not performance.
Just the gentle capacity to notice ourselves.
Why Blame Makes Things Worse
When educators, parents, or professionals respond to incel thinking with:
- Shaming
- Ridiculing
- Moralising
- Outrage
we recreate the same relational injury that led to the identity in the first place.
If the wound is shame, and we respond with shame, the wound deepens.
If the defence is “I am unsafe with others,” and we respond with hostility, we prove the defence right.
Blame recreates the very dynamics that caused the wound.
To teach congruence, we must model it.
What Helps Instead?
Young people heal through:
- Attuned relationship, not correction
- Curiosity, not confrontation
- Emotional language, not embarrassment
- Grounded adult regulation, not adult frustration
- Belonging, not behavioural compliance
We must be the calm nervous system they can borrow from until they learn to regulate their own.
This is the heart of trauma-informed safeguarding.
A Final Reflection
The word education comes from the Latin educare and educere —
meaning to draw out from within, not to impose from the outside.
Our role is not to fix, shame, frighten, or force young people into maturity.
Our role is to help them meet themselves — with dignity, safety, truth, and compassion.
Because when a young person feels seen, valued, and accepted, they no longer need armour to be in the world.
It’s Not “Attention Seeking.” It’s a Nervous System in Survival.
Across education, social care, healthcare, policing, and even politics, there is still a widespread misunderstanding of trauma. Behaviours rooted in survival are often misinterpreted as:
- “Attention-seeking”
- “Manipulative”
- “Excuses”
- “Lack of discipline”
- “Bad attitude”
And those of us who respond with compassion are sometimes seen as soft, naïve, dismissed as ‘snowflakes’ or too forgiving.
But here is a truth many have not yet been taught:
Trauma is not psychological misbehaviour.
It is a nervous system doing its best to stay alive.
Before we go any further, we need to ask one essential question:
What does this behaviour bring up in us?
Because when we see someone dysregulated, chaotic, overwhelmed or reactive — our own nervous system responds too.
If we feel:
- Challenged
- Threatened
- Disrespected
- Out of control
…we might react from our own discomfort, rather than from understanding.
Trauma-informed practice begins here — not with how we respond to the other person, but with how we regulate ourselves in the presence of their dysregulation.
If we cannot stay regulated when someone else is not, we will always default to control, punishment, or withdrawal.
Not because we don’t care —
but because we feel overwhelmed, too.
When Safety Was Never Learned, Chaos Becomes Home
If someone has experienced adversity from birth, their nervous system did not get the chance to learn:
- Safety
- Trust
- Predictability
- Being comforted
- Being held in distress
There is no internal anchor to return to.
So their default state is not calm.
Their default is chaos.
They may be:
- Easily overwhelmed
- Quick to shut down or explode
- Drawn to chaotic people or environments
- Creating chaos when there is none
Not because they want to.
But because chaos is what their nervous system recognises as familiar and we often mistake familiar for safe.
This is not attention-seeking.
This is attachment injury and survival physiology.
Trauma is not what happens to us — not the event — it’s what happens inside of us as a result of the event. So when someone says “Well I’ve had worse things happen to me and I’m fine. I still manage to hold down a job / stay in class / cope,” it may feel logical to them, but it is not a trauma-informed comparison. Our capacity to cope is shaped long before any “big event” — it is shaped by whether we grew up with a sense of safety or a sense of threat.
Someone who fundamentally believes they are loved, they belong, and they are safe at their very core will experience adversity differently from someone who has grown up believing they are unlovable, unsafe, or alone. One person’s nervous system has an anchor; the other does not. We are not starting from the same internal ground. Comparing the two is like comparing apples and pears — the outside may look similar, but the internal structure is entirely different.
And after all — what we believe is true, because we believe it.
Our nervous system doesn’t respond to “reality,” it responds to perceived reality.
The world we expect is the world we experience.
Punishment Does Not Switch Off the Threat Response
And yet, in so many institutions, punishment is still the primary approach.
Punishment does not regulate.
Punishment intensifies the threat response.
It teaches:
- “I am bad.”
- “I am alone.”
- “I cannot be seen when I am struggling.”
And the cycle continues.
Compassion Is Not Weak. It Is Regulating.
Compassion is not the absence of boundaries.
Trauma-informed practice is:
Support + Structure
Connection + Consistency
Understanding + Accountability
Boundaries are essential.
But boundaries are not punishments.
Boundaries are anchors. They say:
“I will not abandon you.
And I will also not allow harm.”
This is the balance.
We do not remove expectations.
We support people to meet them.
We give:
- Co-regulation
- Predictability
- Clarity
- Tools
- Time
- Patience
- Safe relationship
Because nobody learns in survival mode.
Safety is the foundation for change.
So the real work is this:
Not “How do we make them behave?”
But:
- Can we stay regulated when someone else is dysregulated?
- Can we hold boundaries without shame or power struggle?
- Can we recognise survival when we see it?
- Can we offer safety, even when behaviour is hard to understand?
This is the heart of trauma-informed practice.
Not softness.
Not permissiveness.
Neurobiology + compassion + boundaries.
This is how lives change.
This is how cycles break.
This is how we build safety where none existed before.
Collaboration and Repair: Learning to Stay in the Room When We Get It Wrong
It’s easy to talk about collaboration when everything is going well.
It is much harder to stay in collaboration when discomfort, mistakes, and misunderstandings arise.
We don’t often speak about that part — the repair.
Recently, I was reminded how important repair is when we work with others from a place of heart, integrity, and shared purpose.
In The River Room Songbook, one of our songs, RAIN, is adapted from a mindfulness practice I have used in therapy for years. I had always known it as a free, widely-used grounding tool. I hadn’t realised it originated with Tara Brach, who herself adapted it from an earlier version by Michelle McDonald.
When the songbook was shared online, a few people commented pointing out that we had not credited Tara.
They were right.
And yet, the moment I saw the comments, my body reacted before my mind could speak:
- Dread
- Panic
- Shame
- Embarrassment
- Fear of having unintentionally harmed someone I care about
The old feelings rose:
- Hide.
- Run.
- Apologise excessively.
- Disappear.
But I didn’t.
I was out having a meal with my husband when this unfolded.
And yet, I couldn’t “just ignore it.”
My nervous system was activated.
My integrity needed to respond.
But unlike my previous, unhealed self - I stayed grounded while doing it.
I:
- Acknowledged the mistake openly
- Apologised to my colleague
- Contacted Tara directly
- Owned the oversight without excuses
- Explained honestly that it was unintentional
And Tara’s response was everything collaboration could be:
Kind.
Generous.
Human.
She gave her blessing wholeheartedly — and even shared the song with her grandchildren.
Repair was not only possible — it deepened connection.
But the potential for harm was real!
Had Tara responded differently — legally, defensively, or from ego —
this could have been devastating.
This is where we must recognise something important:
Intellectual property is real and necessary.
But when it is held rigidly, fearfully, or competitively —it can choke creativity, sharing, and community learning.
The intention behind The River Room Songbook is simple:
- To help children regulate
- To support emotional healing
- To give something freely to the world
No commercial interest.
No profit.
No claim of ownership.
Just shared humanity.
But intention does not erase impact.
And so I learned something valuable.
The People Who Helped Me Stay in Integrity
My husband, sitting beside me, didn’t tell me to let it go.
He didn’t make me feel guilty for being pulled into the situation.
He simply:
- Covered my plate to keep it warm
- Held my hand
- Let me do what my integrity needed me to do
My colleague Chrissy, didn’t shame me.
She held space.
She trusted my heart.
We repaired — together.
Even those who raised the concern did so truthfully — and they were right.
I did need to acknowledge the original practice.
It is how we honour each other’s work.
What turned this into a moment of growth rather than collapse was:
No blame.
No ridicule.
No criticism.
No assumption of ill intent.
Just truth with compassion.
The Problem With Blame
Blame is one of the quickest ways to shut down learning, connection, and trust.
When someone is blamed:
- The nervous system goes into defence.
- The mind shifts from reflection to self-protection.
- The heart closes.
- The relationship stops growing.
Blame doesn’t create accountability — it creates fear.
And when people are afraid of being wrong, they:
- Hide mistakes
- Avoid taking risks
- Stop creating
- Stop sharing
- Stop collaborating
Which is the opposite of what we say we want in community work.
Blame says:
“I need someone to be the problem so I don’t have to feel my discomfort.”
But compassion says:
“We are human. Let’s make sense of this together.”
When we replace blame with curiosity:
- Repair becomes possible.
- Growth becomes possible.
- Actual collaboration becomes possible.
Not the performance of collaboration —
but the lived practice of it.
The Pitfalls & The Potential
We all protect our ideas.
This is why copyright exists.
It’s human.
But when protection turns to possession, something gets lost:
- Creativity
- Openness
- Shared purpose
- The joy of making something together
True collaboration requires:
- Curiosity instead of accusation
- Questions before conclusions
- Benefit of the doubt
- Compassion
- A willingness to repair
If we want community, we must learn to stay in the room when we get it wrong.
Will I Make Mistakes Again?
Probably.
I am human.
But this is what I know now:
I will no longer run.
I will not hide.
I will not collapse under shame.
I will not abandon myself.
I will:
- Own it
- Repair it
- Learn from it
- And remain aligned with truth
Because collaboration isn’t just about shared work.
It’s about shared humanity.
And that is something I am committed to, always.
When Collaboration Isn’t Collaboration: On Alignment, Authenticity, and the Quiet Politics of Community Work
I’ve been reflecting on a question I was asked recently during a community ‘collaboration hub’ session:
“What stops you from collaborating with others?”
Around the table, the responses were mostly:
- Time
- Funding
- Capacity
- Opportunity
I listened. Considered. I understood what they meant — but none of these have ever really stopped me.
Time?
I am always busy. Truly. My schedule is full most days from early morning to late evening — and yet I still collaborate when the work aligns with my values.
Funding?
I am often broke. I collaborate for free regularly. I share ideas, resources, time, energy and heart because not everything meaningful is transactional.
Opportunity?
There is always opportunity. There is always something we could do together, some bridge we could build, some gap we could close — if the intention is mutual and the work is real.
So I answered:
“Alignment.”
Because I don’t struggle to collaborate.
I show up.
I contribute.
I build, share, create and grow with others — joyfully — when the collaboration is real.
What I struggle with is when what is called collaboration is actually something else entirely.
When You Turn Up and It’s Already Decided
So often you’re invited into a “shared project,” but when you arrive, everything has already been arranged:
- The roles are already set
- The decisions already made
- The leadership already assumed
- And your involvement framed around what you can do for them
Not what we can create together.
In those moments, it becomes clear:
You weren’t invited as an equal partner —
you were invited for free labour, visibility, or credibility.
And when you name that imbalance gently and honestly, the narrative flips:
Suddenly you are:
- Ambushing
- Taking over
- Making it about yourself
- Being “difficult”
When in reality, the opposite is true.
They did not want collaboration.
They wanted your work without your voice.
The Performance of Community
There is a public language of collaboration:
- “We should all work together…”
- “We’re stronger in partnership…”
- “Community is everything…”
And then there is the lived practice:
- Showing up for each other
- Responding to emails
- Sharing events
- Supporting without needing recognition
- Celebrating someone else’s success without comparison
It is easy to speak of community.
Much harder to practice it.
Too often, collaboration becomes:
- Meetings without movement
- Promises without presence
- Community language without community action
I have no interest in performing community.
I am here to build it.
When Truth Confronts Convenience
As manager in another community project, I was once asked why we didn’t recycle e-bikes.
But the conversation wasn’t really about sustainability — it was about finding a convenient way to dispose of unwanted e-bike batteries.
The “collaboration” being suggested would have meant:
- We take on the labour
- We take on the cost
- We take on the risk
- They receive the benefit of looking environmentally responsible
So I asked one question:
“Can you assure me that the batteries were ethically mined — and that no child labour was involved?”
The room fell silent.
Not reflective silence.
Not thoughtful silence.
Not curious silence.
Not, ‘that’s an important question that we need to find the answer to’ type silence
Avoidant silence.
Avoidant, uncomfortable silence.
No one explored the ethical issue.
No one acknowledged the impact.
No one answered.
Instead, I was quietly repositioned as:
- Difficult
- Confrontational
- “Awkward”
But I wasn’t being awkward.
I was safeguarding.
I was ensuring integrity.
I was asking that we do what we say we care about.
They wanted the benefits of collaboration without the responsibility of it.
They wanted our work, our time, our ethics, our labour — while they kept the credit and the public image of being eco-conscious.
This is what I mean when I talk about alignment.
Collaboration is not:
- “You do the work.”
- “I get the recognition.”
- “We call it community.”
Collaboration is shared power, shared responsibility, shared purpose.
When that is missing — it is not collaboration.
Collaboration requires our actions match our values.
Yet in many community spaces, the appearance of doing good is valued more than the integrity of doing good.
What Real Collaboration Feels Like
I know for certain true collaboration exists — because I’ve experienced it.
The River Room Songbook with Chrissy Sykes is:
- Heart-led
- Equal
- Safe
- Mutual
- Larger than either of us
There is:
- No ego
- No power struggle
- No performance
- No silent competition
Just two people doing what matters, because it matters.
It is easy, because it is true.
That kind of collaboration is rare.
Not because it should be rare —
but because it requires:
- Shared power
- Transparency
- Emotional maturity
- And the ability to celebrate someone else’s gifts
Many talk about collaboration.
Few actually know how to do it.
So What Actually Stops Me Collaborating?
Not time.
Not funding.
Not opportunity.
Misalignment.
I will not collaborate where:
- Power is predetermined
- Support only flows one way
- Honesty is unwelcome
- Ego is driving the work
- Or truth is treated as a threat
But I will collaborate — deeply and joyfully — where:
- Integrity leads
- Voices are equal
- Credit is shared
- Accountability is real
- And the work matters more than the spotlight
Because I am not interested in performing community.
I am here to build it.
Perhaps this is the real question in all of it:
Why is speaking truthfully about what you really feel so badly received?
Why does honesty — spoken calmly and without malice — cause such disruption?
Because truth asks something of people.
It asks them to look at themselves.
To examine motive.
To reflect on whether words and actions align.
And for many, that is deeply uncomfortable.
So I’ll say this plainly:
Don’t ask the question if you do not want the honest answer.
This is not about judgement — it is about clarity. Clarity allows collaboration to be real.
Some people will welcome that.
Some will not.
Either way: I’ll never dilute myself to fit into rooms where truth is treated as an inconvenience.
Trauma-Informed Healing Through Nervous System Awareness
Using embodied nervous system attunement to help people recognise, regulate, and return to themselves with dignity and care.
My understanding of nervous system states began very early in my life. After a near-death experience as a young child, my body seemed to pay close attention to the world around me.
I spent part of my childhood in Africa — curious, adventurous, and endlessly observant. I was the child who wandered off to explore, to understand, to feel the world directly. I was captivated by people, landscapes, sounds, and atmosphere. Even then, I sensed things through my body first.
Like many families, we went through a lot. From an early age, I learned to notice emotional shifts before they were spoken. I didn’t have the language for it then — I simply knew.
That sensitivity stayed with me. Over the years, it became something deeply woven into the way I relate to others.
Later in life, I experienced another near-death event due to domestic violence, when my life was threatened and I lost consciousness.
When I survived, my nervous system eventually returned with a clearer sense of what safety felt like — and what it didn’t. The sensitivity I had carried since childhood became more finely attuned and grounded.
From Survival to Understanding
As life unfolded, there were times when safety wasn’t certain — times when my nervous system had to stay alert to protect me.
In those moments, the part of me that could sense subtle changes became finely tuned.
I learned:
- when someone was beginning to shut down,
- when overwhelm was building beneath the surface,
- when words didn’t match the energy in the room.
But as I healed, studied, and grew, something important happened:
What was once hypervigilance slowly transformed into attunement.
No urgency.
No fear.
Just clear, grounded awareness.
Before trauma-informed practice became a recognised framework or widely used term, many of us were already learning to understand trauma from the inside out. Not through theory, but through lived experience, reflection, and the slow work of making sense of ourselves.
My learning happened long before the language became mainstream — in noticing what calmed the body, what overwhelmed it, what restored safety, and what dissolved it. Over time, this became a way of being with others: listening not only to words, but to breath, pace, posture and presence. In that sense, becoming trauma-informed was not something I “learned” later — it was something that unfolded through my own healing.
I don’t imagine I have all the answers, nor do I believe there is one path that fits everyone. Healing is deeply personal. It has taken many years of learning, unlearning, reflection, therapy, regulation, and courage to arrive at a place where I can trust myself and discern what I sense. My confidence does not come from certainty — it comes from knowing myself, understanding my own nervous system, and being able to meet others from a place of steadiness rather than assumption.
Sensing Nervous System States
When I sit with someone, I can often feel:
- the quiet drop into dorsal vagal collapse — when someone begins to numb or disappear inward.
- the rising activation of sympathetic stress — the tightening, the bracing to cope or perform.
- the warmth and presence of ventral safety — when someone is connected, at ease, and available.
I sense these things through:
- breath
- silence
- posture
- the emotional “temperature” of the space between us
Not as alarm anymore.
But as information that guides gentle, respectful support.
Recognising Coercion and Manipulation in the Body
Coercion rarely begins with words.
It begins with subtle shifts in power and pressure.
I feel those shifts before they become visible.
Not because I am suspicious — but because my nervous system has lived through those patterns and learned to recognise them quietly and clearly.
The difference now is that I trust my body’s signals.
Not as fear — but as discernment.
This is not something that can be taught in a classroom.
It is lived, integrated, and softened through healing.
A Unique Offering
Many professionals learn about trauma through theory.
I learned about it first through lived experience — and then spent years transforming that knowing into grounded, compassionate, trauma-informed practice (long before the language of “trauma-informed care” became widely known).
Today, this embodied sensitivity is the foundation of my work.
My work isn’t about trauma stories. It is about helping people return to themselves — gently, respectfully, and with dignity.
Because I know what it is to lose connection.
And I know what it is to find it again.
I now offer trauma-informed consultancy, workshops, and therapeutic support for individuals, families, and organisations who want to create environments where people feel safe, understood, and able to reconnect with themselves.
My work is grounded not only in professional training, but in a finely tuned, embodied awareness of the nervous system. I am able to sense dysregulation before it becomes overwhelm, recognise shutdown before it turns to withdrawal, and support people to return to safety gently and with dignity.
If your organisation, team, or community is ready to move beyond theory and into felt safety, relational presence, and nervous system-informed practice, I’d be honoured to collaborate.
This is work that changes lives — from the inside out.
The Bridge Between Chakras, the Vagus Nerve, and Interpersonal Neurobiology
Have you ever sensed that science and spirituality might be describing the same truth in different languages?
I’ve often reflected on how the vagus nerve, the chakra system, and Interpersonal Neurobiology (IPNB) all seem to meet at the same intersection — where energy, emotion, and connection flow together.
A Meeting Point Between Science and Spirituality
While the connection between chakras and the vagus nerve isn’t formally recognised within mainstream neuroscience, an increasing number of integrative and trauma-informed practitioners are exploring these parallels.
The two systems appear to describe the same process through different languages — one energetic, the other physiological. Ancient traditions spoke of energy flow and alignment, while modern science now studies vagal tone, regulation, and neuroception.
Both ultimately point to the same truth: when the body feels safe and connected, energy and awareness flow freely.
Root to Crown: The Gut–Brain Pathway
The root chakra represents grounding, safety, and belonging — the foundation of our being. The third eye chakra represents clarity, intuition, and insight — our ability to perceive truth and meaning.
In scientific language, the vagus nerve physically connects these realms. It runs from the brainstem through the face, heart, and gut, creating a direct gut–brain communication line.
When the vagus nerve is balanced, we feel safe, grounded, and connected — our body and intuition communicate freely. When it’s dysregulated, we feel unsafe, disconnected, or numb.
In this way, the vagus nerve can be seen as the biological bridge between the root and the third eye — translating instinct into insight, and safety into presence.
Blocked Energy or Trapped Trauma?
Ancient wisdom tells us that energy becomes “blocked” when emotion or life force cannot move freely through the chakras.
Modern trauma science says something strikingly similar: when survival energy (fight, flight, freeze, or fawn) isn’t released, it becomes trapped in the nervous system.
Both perspectives describe a disruption of flow — whether we call it prana or vagal tone. Healing in both systems involves restoring movement, breath, sound, and connection so the energy of life can circulate again.
How the Chakras Relate to the Vagus Nerve
The vagus nerve and chakra system seem to describe the same energy flow through two different lenses: one biological, one energetic.
| Chakra | Location | Theme | Related Vagus Function |
| Root (Muladhara) | Base of spine | Safety, stability, survival | Regulates digestion and elimination; grounding the body in a sense of safety. |
| Sacral (Svadhisthana) | Below the navel | Emotion, creativity, relationships | Influences reproductive and gut organs; supports emotional flow and connection. |
| Solar Plexus (Manipura) | Upper abdomen | Confidence, personal power | Controls diaphragm and gut; where we sense our inner strength and gut feeling. |
| Heart (Anahata) | Centre of chest | Love, compassion, connection | Directly affects heart rate and breathing rhythm; the centre of relational safety. |
| Throat (Vishuddha) | Throat | Communication, truth, expression | Upper branch controls voice tone, swallowing, and facial expression — the social engagement system in Polyvagal Theory. |
| Third Eye (Ajna) | Forehead | Intuition, perception, insight | When vagal tone is balanced, brain and body communicate freely, enhancing intuition. |
| Crown (Sahasrara) | Top of head | Spiritual connection, unity | Reflects integration and coherence; the sense of being connected to something greater. |
Each chakra aligns with areas influenced by the vagus nerve, creating a shared pathway for safety, regulation, and awareness.
When the vagus nerve functions well, energy naturally rises through the chakras, supporting safety, connection, and consciousness.
When it’s disrupted, the flow of energy — or prana — becomes constricted, and we experience symptoms of imbalance, anxiety, or shutdown.
Trauma and the Flow Between Root and Third Eye
Dr. Wayne Dyer once suggested that trauma disrupts the energetic flow between the root chakra and the third eye, and this insight aligns closely with both ancient and modern understanding.
The root chakra represents our sense of safety and belonging — our foundation.
The third eye represents awareness, clarity, and intuition — our ability to perceive beyond the surface.
When trauma occurs, especially in early life, it destabilises the root, leaving the body in a constant search for safety.
In this state, energy can’t rise freely toward the higher centres, particularly the third eye, where intuitive and spiritual awareness reside. The result is a kind of inner fragmentation — the body and mind no longer move together in harmony.
From a scientific perspective, the vagus nerve mirrors this same disruption. Trauma interrupts the communication between the gut (root) and the brain (third eye) — the very flow that allows instinct and intuition to cooperate. The lower vagal circuits enter survival mode, and the upper pathways that support calm awareness and insight go offline.
This explains why, after trauma, many people feel either hypervigilant and disconnected from their intuition, or numb and dissociated from their body. They can’t “feel” their truth because safety and perception have become disconnected.
Healing, therefore, involves restoring the flow between the root and the third eye — through grounding, breath, sound, movement, and safe relational connection. As safety returns to the body, awareness naturally expands.
The Ahhh sound meditation that Dr. Dyer often taught vibrates through the throat, heart, and head, gently bridging these energetic and neural circuits, helping the nervous system re-establish coherence between body and spirit.
When the root feels safe, the third eye opens — and insight is grounded in embodied awareness.
Interpersonal Neurobiology: The Relational Bridge
Interpersonal Neurobiology (IPNB), a framework developed by Dr. Dan Siegel, shows that integration — linking separate parts into a functional whole — is the foundation of well-being.
It views the mind as an embodied and relational process that regulates energy and information flow.
That’s exactly what both the chakra system and Polyvagal Theory describe:
- The vagus nerve regulates our internal state and sense of safety.
- The chakras reflect the energetic expression of that state.
- IPNB shows how safe, attuned relationships support this integration, restoring harmony across body, mind, and spirit.
Where trauma fragments, integration unites.
Through connection, compassion, and self-awareness, energy begins to flow again — physiologically, emotionally, and spiritually.
In Essence
Science and spirituality are not opposites; they are two mirrors reflecting the same truth:
- When the nervous system feels safe, energy flows.
- When energy flows, intuition awakens.
- When presence meets connection, healing happens.
The vagus nerve, the chakra system, and IPNB each describe what it means to be human — wired for safety, connection, and flow.
When the Body Knows Before the Mind
Understanding fainting, fear, and the wisdom of the vagus nerve
Someone once told me they believe they faint in the presence of evil.
To some, that might sound far-fetched or even dramatic — but to me, it made perfect sense.
I believe there’s truth in it, though perhaps not in the way it first appears.
When the body detects overwhelming threat, the vagus nerve — the great communicator between brain and body — can trigger an emergency response. It slows the heart, drops the blood pressure, and reduces blood flow to the brain. Consciousness fades, and we faint.
This is called vasovagal syncope, and it’s the body’s most extreme form of self-protection — a complete “cut-out” when survival energy becomes too much to process.
A nervous system that learned fear early
As a young person, I fainted often — sometimes weekly. Especially in church or at school.
It took years before I understood why.
When I was seven, a teacher humiliated me in front of my classmates. At nine, a nun stabbed my hand with a pen and shamed me publicly. Those moments left deep marks — not only in memory but in my nervous system. My body learned that authority, church, and classrooms were dangerous places.
So even when nothing “bad” was happening years later, just stepping into those environments triggered the same fear pathways. My nervous system didn’t distinguish between past danger and present safety. The fainting was my body’s way of saying, “I can’t bear this. I’m shutting down.”
The body’s secret surveillance system
Stephen Porges calls this neuroception — the body’s unconscious ability to detect safety, danger, or life threat.
Unlike perception (which is conscious), neuroception happens automatically, below awareness. It’s an ancient survival mechanism that continuously scans the world around us and inside us, asking:
“Am I safe, or am I in danger?”
It listens to tone of voice, facial expression, posture, energy, and even the spaces between words. It detects micro-signals — the subtle shifts in presence and intention that our thinking brain may never notice.
This means we can feel danger long before we understand it.
We might walk into a room and suddenly feel uneasy. Our stomach tightens, our breathing changes, or our heart races — and we don’t know why. That’s neuroception at work.
When someone says they faint in the presence of evil, perhaps what they’re really describing is this:
Their body perceives a profound energetic or moral threat — something cold, unsafe, or deeply incongruent — and the vagus nerve steps in to protect them from overwhelm.
When words fail, the body speaks
Looking back, I see those fainting episodes not as weakness, but as wisdom.
They were my body’s attempt to manage what I couldn’t process.
What religion called “sin” and psychology might call “trauma,” the nervous system simply calls too much.
The body doesn’t lie. It tells its truth in sensations, symptoms, and sometimes in silence.
And when the cues of safety return — through compassion, connection, and time — the same body that once shut down can begin to reopen, soften, and trust again.
So yes — I do believe there’s truth in the idea of fainting in the presence of evil.
But I see it through a different lens now.
Not superstition. Not weakness.
Just the ancient intelligence of the body — doing its best to keep us alive in a world that sometimes felt unsafe to feel.
The Opposite of TRUST: A Mirror We All Must Face
Trauma-informed practice isn’t just about understanding others — it’s about choosing how we show up in every interaction.
Every day, in every conversation, we have a choice:
To walk the path of alignment, compassion, and light — or to fall into the unconscious patterns that perpetuate harm.
Even those who intend to help can become part of the problem when awareness slips. And that’s why I’ve been reflecting deeply on TRUST — the framework that underpins my trauma-informed work — and its shadow opposite.
Because everything that heals can also be inverted to harm.
The TRUST Framework
(A Trauma-Informed Approach)
T – Trigger Recognition
Awareness of what activates fear, pain, or defensiveness — in ourselves and others — so we can regulate before we respond.
R – Reassurance
Offering calm, consistent presence that tells the nervous system: “You’re safe now.” Reassurance rebuilds trust where fear once lived.
U – Understanding
Seeking to understand the why behind behaviour, not just the what. It’s choosing empathy over judgment and compassion over control.
S – Safety
Creating physical, emotional, and relational environments where people feel seen, heard, and safe enough to heal.
T – Truth
Honesty with self and others. Congruence. Saying what we mean and meaning what we say — because truth and safety cannot exist without each other.
This is the path of awareness, compassion, and connection — the path of light and alignment. It’s how we heal, lead, and create genuine change.
The Shadow of TRUST
(A Trauma-Perpetuating Approach)
T – Trigger Recognition
Still present — but used manipulatively. Recognising what provokes others, not to heal but to control.
R – Reactivity
Acting from fear or ego. Escalating rather than calming. Reacting to protect self-image instead of building safety.
U – Undermining
Eroding another’s confidence or sense of self to maintain dominance or superiority.
S – Suppression
Silencing truth, emotion, or individuality. Valuing compliance over authenticity.
T – Transactional Thinking
Conditional care: “I’ll support you if you behave the way I want.”
Relationships become about control, not connection.
This is the path of power, fear, and disconnection. It can look confident on the surface, but it’s a fragile strength — built on defence, not integrity.
The Choice
Every one of us stands at this crossroads, especially when we’re tired, triggered, or under pressure.
We can respond from trauma — or from truth.
From fear — or from love.
Being trauma-informed isn’t about perfection; it’s about presence.
It’s about noticing which version of TRUST we’re embodying in any moment — and having the courage to choose again.
When we walk the path of alignment, our energy becomes restorative rather than depleting.
We repair what we once repeated.
We regulate, reconnect, and rebuild — one conscious choice at a time.
Which path are you on in your journey?
Do you ever switch between the two? When does that happen?
What do you see in yourself — and what do you see in the world around you?
Self-awareness is the path to happiness.