The Inconsistencies in What We Teach
The Inconsistencies in What We Teach - How Adult Behaviour Contradicts the Values We Impart to Children
We tell children to “treat others as you want to be treated.” We emphasise the importance of respect, empathy, and kindness. Yet, when it comes to how adults treat children, our actions often tell a very different story. The lessons we claim to teach are undermined by our own contradictions, leaving children confused, disempowered, and sometimes traumatised.
Respect - The Lesson We Preach but Fail to Practice
“To get respect, you must give respect” — a mantra many of us teach children. But what happens in practice? Adults shout at children, interrupt them, issue demands, and control their every move. When a child tells the truth, they may be accused of lying without evidence. Children learn quickly that respect is not a two-way street; it’s something demanded of them but rarely reciprocated.
Instead of modelling respect, adults often model dominance. We assert our authority through volume, coercion, and control, all while expecting children to remain calm, respectful, and obedient. Imagine the confusion this creates for a child. If respect is earned through actions, then what have adults done to earn theirs?
Bodily Autonomy - The Right We Champion but Rarely Grant
We teach children that their bodies belong to them. We tell them they have a right to personal space, that no one is allowed to touch them without consent. But what happens when a child asks for space and is told, “No, you’re staying right here until you calm down”? What happens when adults dictate what children eat, wear, or how they express themselves?
Children are often stripped of autonomy in the name of “what’s best for them.” They’re told to sit still when their bodies need to move, to eat food they dislike, and to wear clothes that feel uncomfortable. Their voices are silenced, their choices overridden, and their ability to assert control over their own lives is diminished. Then, we wonder why they struggle with self-regulation as they grow.
If we want children to believe in bodily autonomy, we have to embody that principle ourselves. This means listening to their boundaries, giving them choices where possible, and allowing them to assert control over their small world in developmentally appropriate ways.
Listening - A One-Way Street?
We ask children to “listen when I’m talking to you,” but how often do adults listen in return? Children have thoughts, ideas, and feelings that are just as valid as adults’. Yet, they are frequently dismissed with phrases like, “Because I said so,” or “You’re too young to understand.”
This double standard sends a clear message: Adults matter, children don’t. When children learn that no one is really listening to them, they stop sharing. They bottle up their thoughts, disengage from conversation, and may even start lashing out to be heard. This is the beginning of disconnection.
If we want children to listen, we must model what good listening looks like. It means pausing to hear them out, asking clarifying questions, and acknowledging their feelings, even if we can’t always meet their requests.
Bullying - The Cycle We Perpetuate
When children bully each other, adults step in swiftly with punishments, lectures, and consequences. But when adults bully children — through yelling, public shaming, controlling, or intimidating — it’s often justified as “discipline” or “teaching them a lesson.”
Bullying is defined as the use of power to intimidate or control another. By this definition, much of what passes for “adult authority” in schools, homes, and institutions is indistinguishable from bullying. Adults who feel the need to control, dominate, or punish children are often reacting to their own unresolved feelings of frustration, inadequacy, or fear. Instead of reflecting on their emotional state, they project that discomfort onto the child.
This cycle becomes dangerous when children begin to see bullying as a legitimate way to exert power. They learn that, just like adults, they can shout, control, and dominate those with less power — and it works. We wonder why bullying persists, but perhaps it’s because we’ve modelled it too well.
The Old Ways - Outdated Beliefs That Still Linger
For generations, children were seen as subordinate to adults in every way. The old adage “children should be seen and not heard” shaped how children were viewed in the home, school, and society. Children were expected to honour their parents, obey without question, and accept that their opinions carried no weight. Baby care advice once encouraged parents to let infants “cry it out” rather than comfort them, and discipline often took the form of physical punishment under the justification of “spare the rod, spoil the child.”
Today, we know that these approaches cause harm. Studies have shown that ignoring a baby’s cries disrupts attachment and emotional development, and physical punishment is linked to increased aggression, anxiety, and mental health struggles later in life. Yet, remnants of this thinking still permeate modern parenting and education. The belief that children must “do as they’re told” without question is still common, as is the notion that strict control is necessary for discipline.
Is society still stuck in this mindset? In many ways, yes. While there is greater awareness of child development, trauma, and the importance of empathy, the echoes of these outdated beliefs are still present in parenting books, school policies, and everyday interactions between adults and children. Unlearning this thinking requires a shift in how we view children — not as subordinates to control, but as human beings deserving of the same dignity, compassion, and respect we expect for ourselves.
Fear and Stress - Why Stressed Brains Don’t Learn
Many of us can vividly recall a teacher we were afraid of — one who humiliated students, shouted, or punished harshly. I know first hand how being publicly humiliated by a teacher can have lasting consequences. For most people, these experiences were not just unpleasant; they were learning dead zones. Fear shuts down the brain’s ability to process new information. When we are in a state of stress or fear, our “fight, flight, or freeze” response is activated, and the parts of the brain responsible for reasoning, problem-solving, and memory shut down.
Instead of engaging with the lesson, children in fear become focused on survival. Their nervous systems are on high alert, scanning for the next threat. It’s no wonder so many people “hated school” or “didn’t learn anything” in certain classes. The presence of fear — from harsh punishments, humiliating remarks, or unpredictable adult behaviour — creates a toxic environment for learning.
Learning should be a pleasurable, curiosity-driven experience. Children learn best when they feel safe, supported, and connected. But when adults rely on control, fear, and shame to “teach lessons,” they create barriers to learning that can last a lifetime. Children who experience fear-based education may carry those feelings into adulthood, believing that learning is something to be endured, not enjoyed.
If we want children to thrive academically and emotionally, we must move away from fear-based control and towards environments where children feel safe to explore, ask questions, and make mistakes without judgment.
The Trauma Trap - When History Shapes the Present
When a child has been bullied, abused, or neglected in the past, their nervous system stays on high alert. Their reactions aren’t just about “this moment” — they’re about every past moment where they felt unsafe, unheard, or out of control. This is how trauma works: it rewires the brain to anticipate threats everywhere.
But rather than recognising this, adults often misinterpret these reactions as “bad behaviour” or “defiance.” A child who lashes out is seen as a problem to be fixed, not as a person in pain. Adults respond with more rules, more control, more consequences — intensifying the child’s sense of powerlessness. This dynamic triggers more stress for both sides. Adults feel burned out, children feel overwhelmed, and the environment becomes toxic.
This is where trauma-informed care is essential. Trauma-informed practice recognises that behaviour is communication. A dysregulated child isn’t “choosing” to misbehave; they’re responding to a nervous system that feels unsafe. Instead of reacting with punishment, adults need to create safety, offer co-regulation, and provide predictable environments where children feel seen, heard, and valued.
The Way Forward - A Call for Consistency and Compassion
If we want children to learn respect, autonomy, empathy, and self-regulation, then adults must live those values first. Children do not learn from lectures; they learn from experience. If they experience disrespect, their lesson is clear. If they experience control, they learn to control others. If they experience blame, they internalise it or pass it on.
A trauma-informed approach can break this cycle. Here’s what that could look like:
Respect is mutual - Model the respect you want to see. Apologize when you’re wrong. Speak calmly.
Bodily autonomy is honoured - Offer choices where possible. Respect personal space. Listen to children’s “no” when it’s safe to do so.
Listening is reciprocal - Take a breath. Let them finish. Respond with curiosity, not dismissal.
Bullying is addressed at all levels - Reflect on adult behaviour as much as children’s. Challenge systems of dominance, not just playground scuffles.
Trauma is acknowledged, not punished: See beyond the “behaviour” to the root cause. Focus on connection before correction.
If we are serious about raising emotionally intelligent, self-aware, and compassionate young people, then we need to confront the inconsistencies in our own behaviour. Children are watching. They are learning how to be human from us. We have to ask ourselves: What are we teaching them? and just as importantly- Why? What’s happening inside of us that leads us to believe we have the right to control others?
For more information, Ask us about our ‘Supporting Regulation In Schools’ Framework developed with Lived Experience insight, by visiting the contact page on our website.
The Most Important Question Never Asked: “Why?”
In schools across the country, a familiar pattern plays out daily. A student misbehaves — perhaps they lie, swear, have an “outburst,” or exhibit “bad behaviour.” The response? Punishment. Detention. Reprimands. These actions are justified as necessary for discipline and maintaining order. Meanwhile, safeguarding procedures are strengthened. Staff are required to report more, document every detail, and even log the reasons for not reporting something.
Yet, in all this activity, we miss the most important question of all: Why?
Why did the student lie?
Why did the student have an outburst?
Why are they behaving this way?
People don’t lie for no reason. People don’t erupt into emotional outbursts in isolation. Behaviour, especially behaviour labelled as “challenging,” is communication. Behind every incident is a story, an experience, or a trigger. The fight-or-flight response — our most primal survival mechanism — is often at the heart of these so-called “meltdowns.”
What often appears as ‘attention seeking’. behaviour’ is actually connected seeking - in other words: “help me! I’m in free fall… I am frightened, I don’t know what’s happening to me, I feel unanchored, I don’t feel safe”
But instead of asking what prompted the reaction, the focus too often shifts to control, punishment, and compliance.
Here’s the problem: When a child already feels unsafe, punishment only confirms their fears.
Survival Out of Context
When students behave in ways that seem “extreme” or “disproportionate,” it’s worth considering whether what we’re seeing is survival in action. Imagine a child who lives in an environment where they have to be on high alert — perhaps they experience neglect, conflict, or instability at home. Their nervous system becomes trained to recognize threat everywhere. So, when a teacher raises their voice or a peer says something hurtful, it can trigger that child’s fight-flight-freeze response. What looks like “defiance” or “disruption” is often self-protection.
What happens next? Often, the child is punished. They’re sent out of the room, kept in detention, or subjected to further isolation. But here’s the paradox: when a child feels unsafe, isolating or punishing them makes them feel even less safe. Instead of resolving the behaviour, it reinforces it.
Ask Before You Act
If we know this, why do we continue to prioritise punishment over curiosity? The simple answer is often time. Teachers are stretched. Workload pressures mean that “dealing with the issue” takes precedence over “understanding the issue.” But what if we reframed our approach?
Instead of asking, “How do I stop this behaviour?”
Ask, “Why is this behaviour happening in the first place?”
This shift in perspective does not mean excusing poor behaviour. It means seeking to understand it. What triggered it? What might the child be experiencing beneath the surface?
Staff don’t need to solve these questions alone. Schools have access to services and support teams trained to recognise trauma responses and understand emotional regulation. Educational psychologists, safeguarding leads, counselling teams and pastoral staff are there to help bridge this gap. But if the first instinct is to punish, these resources are never called into action.
The Paradox of Caring Roles
Here’s an uncomfortable truth: Those who care for others often pretend they themselves have no need of care.
Teachers, social workers, clinical psychologists, safeguarding leads, and others in caring professions are constantly focused on the vulnerability of others — the students, the service users, the clients. But rarely do they acknowledge their own vulnerability. By some unspoken logic, it’s as if the very role of “the carer” grants them immunity from stress, struggle, or personal difficulty.
But is that really true? Of course not. Teachers experience emotional overwhelm. Social workers face moral injury and burnout. Safeguarding leads are exposed to the weight of distressing stories daily. They, too, are human. They, too, are vulnerable.
Yet, in many settings, this truth is quietly ignored. Why? Perhaps it’s fear. To acknowledge one’s own vulnerability requires humility, and that can feel like a threat to authority or professionalism. It’s often said that “those who teach cannot be taught,”and there is some truth in that observation. Many in positions of authority believe they know best. After all, they are the “expert” in the room. But this mindset has its dangers. When educators and carers refuse to reflect on their own vulnerability, they risk becoming rigid, defensive, and closed off to learning.
If you believe you have nothing left to learn, how can you ask “why” with an open mind? If you believe you are invulnerable, how can you recognize the vulnerability of others?
The irony is clear: Those tasked with safeguarding the most vulnerable people in society sometimes fail to safeguard themselves. They resist admitting their struggles, and in doing so, they project strength while quietly carrying stress, frustration, and burnout. The risk is that, in this state of denial, they become less able to respond with compassion, patience, and empathy.
The result? More control, more punishment, and less curiosity.
The Power of “Why”
Imagine a student who regularly disrupts the classroom. On the surface, it’s easier to label them as “difficult” than to recognise the complexity of their experience. But the teacher who asks “why?” might discover that this child is experiencing hunger, grief, bullying, or fear. Their “bad behaviour” is a reflection of their unmet needs. Once those needs are addressed, the behaviour often improves naturally.
Now, imagine a teacher who feels overwhelmed by the constant demands of the job. On the surface, it might look like that teacher is being short-tempered or “inflexible.” But if we asked “why?”, we might discover they are carrying the weight of unspoken pressures — deadlines, inspections, emotional fatigue, or personal challenges at home. Their “bad behaviour” is also a reflection of unmet needs.
If staff fail to ask “why” — of students, of colleagues, or of themselves — they send a message: “Your feelings don’t matter. Your context doesn’t matter. Only your compliance matters.” For a child already feeling unsafe, this lesson is deeply harmful. For a teacher already feeling overwhelmed, it is equally so.
A Call to Action
If there is one thing to take away from this message, it is this: Always ask why.
When a student lies — ask why.
When a student lashes out — ask why.
When a student “refuses to follow instructions” — ask why.
But also…
When a colleague is unkind — ask why.
When a staff member seems withdrawn — ask why.
When you, yourself, feel on edge or overwhelmed — ask why.
Asking “why” is not a sign of leniency; it’s a sign of strength, compassion, and professionalism. It’s safeguarding at its most effective. If staff don’t have time to ask, the cycle will continue: punish first, ask later. But later is often too late.
If you want safer schools, stronger relationships, and more meaningful safeguarding, you must always ask why — not just of others, but also of yourself.
When Systems Fail Us…
When Systems Fail Us: The Cost of Exclusion in the Helping Professions
When you’ve experienced trauma in your life — and by trauma, I simply mean a dysregulated nervous system — it’s all too easy to internalise the belief that “I’m not good enough.”
These words don’t come from nowhere; they are often reinforced by the very systems that claim to support us.
Systems that call themselves “person-centred” and “inclusive” but operate within rigid walls of process and policy.
The problem is, humans don’t fit neatly within those walls. We are complex, adaptive, and shaped by our lived experiences. Trauma doesn’t follow a linear process, and neither does healing. Yet many of the structures we encounter — from education to employment to accreditation in the helping professions — are designed to measure people against narrow, one-size-fits-all criteria. If you don’t fit the mould, the message is clear: You don’t belong.
But what if the very qualities that make us “different” are the ones that make us most effective at supporting others?
What if lived experience, emotional intelligence, and the capacity to understand dysregulation from the inside are just as valuable — if not more so — than formal qualifications?
And what happens to the people we aim to support when systems exclude those with the deepest understanding of what it means to feel lost, overwhelmed, and unsafe?
This is the conversation we need to have. It’s not just about qualifications or accreditation — it’s about recognising the humanity in all of us, especially those who have learned to navigate and regulate their own nervous systems. It’s about challenging the idea that inclusion can be achieved through exclusion.
If we truly want to create person-centred, inclusive systems, we have to go beyond process and policy. We have to recognise that lived experience is not a limitation — it’s an asset. We have to stop asking people to fit into systems and start designing systems that fit people.
This is not just theory — it’s lived experience. My lived experience. And it’s why I believe that real inclusion must be built on understanding, not control; on compassion, not compliance.
As a person-centred counsellor with lived experience, I know firsthand the profound impact of trauma. I haven’t just studied it — I’ve lived it.
My journey has taken me through war-torn landscapes, displacement, poverty, domestic abuse, ill-health, loss and the relentless search for safety. As a youngster, I witnessed the pain of depression, grief and post-traumatic stress, survivors in their own right, but adults who were emotionally unavailable due to their own unresolved wounds. Victims of Victims.
As a child, our family spent time separated; grateful for the hospitality of relatives when having our own home was not an option. As a young woman, I faced partner violence that left me unconscious — a stark reminder of the cost of dysregulated rage in others.
For years, I lived in a state of flight — 53 addresses, constantly running, searching for safety. Each move wasn’t just a change of scenery — it was a complete restart. New jobs, new schools, new doctors, new dentists. Each shift required me to re-establish everything from the basics of daily life to essential healthcare and education. For anyone who’s experienced displacement, you’ll know it isn’t just about finding a new place to stay — it’s about a search for belonging and trying to create a sense of “home” in an unfamiliar world. The constant upheaval left little room for stability, forcing me to live in survival mode, always on high alert. The cost of these constant new beginnings cannot be understated. It’s exhausting, disorienting, and impacts your mental, emotional, and physical well-being. At the time, I didn’t realise that I wasn’t just running from circumstances — I was trying to escape from the internal chaos I carried within myself.
When I eventually recognised the patterns of behaviours and discovered that the true “escape” wasn’t from a place outside, but from the turmoil within myself, I turned inward. I learned to settle my nervous system, and began the work of healing from the inside out.
This personal transformation led me to help others do the same. I founded an organisation dedicated to providing safe spaces and therapy for those experiencing emotional turbulence and distress triggered by trauma, understanding — on a deeply embodied level — what it means to be dysregulated, disconnected, and desperate for safety.
For over 10 years, I’ve provided face-to-face counselling, received positive rewarding feedback and zero complaints about my practice. But much more than that, I care deeply and genuinely about supporting others. I listen with compassion, strive to understand their unique perspectives, and offer a non-judgmental space where they feel seen and heard. This isn’t just a job for me — it’s a calling rooted in lived experience, empathy, and a belief in human potential. Every practitioner who joins our organisation share our vision and values.
I have studied, trained, and earned many qualifications, including my Level 4 Diploma in Counselling. I am also due to begin my dissertation in January as the final part of my MSc degree at the University of the West of Scotland — a significant milestone in my ongoing academic and professional journey. My commitment to continuous learning reflects my deep belief that both lived experience and formal education have a role to play in building effective, compassionate counsellors. But most of all, I have lived it.
Our organisation strives to bridge the gap between lived experience and education. We recognise that true understanding doesn’t just come from textbooks or theory, but from life itself. By integrating lived experience with professional training, we aim to create a more inclusive, accessible, and human approach to support and care.
One of the ways we do this is through our trauma-informed framework, TRUST, which was developed with input from survivors. This model centres around five core principles that guide how we support individuals in moments of distress and dysregulation:
•T - Trigger: Acknowledgment and identification of the triggers that activate a stress response. When we can name it, we can tame it.
•R - Reassurance: Offering compassion, empathy, and emotional support to soothe the nervous system. Reassurance is the antidote to fear.
•U - Understanding: Cultivating understanding from those around us, including family, friends, and professionals, to prevent isolation and further harm.
•S - Safety: Establishing a sense of safety both within ourselves and in our physical environment, because without safety, no healing can begin.
•T - Truth: Practicing congruence, honesty, and transparency, ensuring that those we support experience relationships rooted in trust, not deception or control.
This framework was built on lived experience and survivor input, reflecting the real needs of those who have lived through trauma. It’s more than a theory — it’s a practice.
TRUST is a daily commitment to understanding, supporting, and empowering people to feel safe, seen, and heard. It challenges the traditional “clinical” model of care by centring lived experience and emotional safety as essential components of healing.
And yet, in the eyes of many professional systems, I am still not “enough.”
The System of Accreditation: Inclusion by Exclusion
Despite my qualifications, experience, and the depth of my understanding, I am often overlooked or dismissed for one reason: I do not belong to one of the “approved” accredited bodies, instead, I am a Chartered Fellow Member of ACCPH (Accredited Counsellors, Coaches, Psychotherapists & Hypnotherapists) — an organisation that recognises the value of lived experience alongside formal qualifications. This was a deliberate choice, as it aligns with my own organisation’s commitment to genuine inclusion.
Many of the so-called “inclusive” bodies claim to champion diversity, but their version of inclusion is conditional. It’s inclusion by exclusion. If you’ve learned through alternative pathways, such as online study, or if your qualifications aren’t tied to a specific institutional stamp, you’re shut out. It’s as if experience, wisdom, and lived knowledge don’t count unless they’ve been rubber-stamped by a select few.
But here’s the irony: The very skills that are most essential for helping dysregulated people — creating a sense of safety, understanding the nervous system, and offering authentic, non-judgmental presence — are not guaranteed by formal accreditation. A person fresh from university with no lived experience can access roles and opportunities that are denied to those with deep, hard-earned understanding.
This is not inclusion. This is exclusion disguised as professionalism.
Why This Matters
When systems define “worthiness” solely by membership to a specific body, they send a clear message: “You are not good enough.” This message echoes the internal narratives that so many people in crisis already carry. It mirrors the exact wounds we, as counsellors, are here to help people heal.
Those of us with lived experience often know this message all too well. We’ve spent years untangling the belief that we are not enough. And for some of us, these accreditation systems become just one more external voice telling us the same story. This isn’t just a professional issue — it’s a human one.
Many people who struggle to thrive in traditional educational environments can succeed through alternative routes, such as online study, self-guided learning, or mentorship. ACCPH recognises this. They allow students who have completed recognised qualifications to join, offering a pathway for those who may not have followed the “standard” route. Other accrediting bodies, however, close that door.
This is why it’s essential to question the criteria by which we define competence and professionalism. Experience matters. Lived knowledge matters. And yet, the current system often rewards theory over practice, and process over presence.
What We Need to Change
If the goal is to create a profession that truly serves people in crisis, then we need to start by rethinking how we assess competence. Competence is not determined by a logo on a certificate. It is determined by a person’s capacity to hold space, to regulate their own nervous system, and to offer authentic, grounded support.
Here’s what we need to consider:
Experience Matters: Can the counsellor recognise when they are regulated or dysregulated? Do they understand what it means to hold space for someone in the grip of a survival response?
Presence Over Process: It’s not the name of the accrediting body that calms a person in crisis — it’s the quality of presence and connection.
True Inclusion: If inclusion requires you to meet narrow, exclusionary criteria, then it’s not inclusion at all.
People in crisis don’t ask for a counsellor’s accreditation status. They ask for connection, empathy, and safety.
Learning to Approve of Yourself in a System That Disapproves of You
When the system tells you that you’re not good enough, it’s easy to believe it. After all, for many of us, it’s a message we’ve been hearing since childhood. But I’ve learned something else in my journey — a truth that no system can take from me.
You do not need external approval to know your own worth.
For years, I chased it. I ran from place to place, role to role, looking for someone to tell me I was good enough. But no system, no job, and no title will ever give you that. The only way to stop running is to turn within, to anchor yourself in your own knowing.
I have lived through war, violence, homelessness, and poverty. I have rebuilt myself from the ground up. I have supported others to do the same. I have studied, trained, and grown. I belong here — not because a system says I do, but because I know I do.
If you’ve ever been told you’re not enough because you don’t meet the criteria of an external system, I want you to hear this: You are enough. Your lived experience matters. Your capacity to heal and hold space matters. And while systems may fail us, we do not have to fail ourselves.
Repeat after me: “I Approve of Myself”
Food for Thought
Conveying the experience of living through a dorsal vagus lens to someone who has never felt it is profoundly difficult.
Having experienced life through both a dorsal and ventral lens, it's clear that the difficulty goes both ways. Just as it's nearly impossible to convey the weight of dorsal to someone who hasn't lived it, it's equally challenging to fully remember or relate to it when you're in a ventral state.
In dorsal, your mind is consumed by a sense of impending threat and looming danger, imagining the worst in every situation. Words feel insufficient to bridge the gap between these states. The harder you try to explain, the further away you seem to get from being understood. You sense the other person pulling away — not out of malice, but out of incomprehension — yet it feels like rejection, deepening the isolation. The feelings are within you, but they appear to be coming from those we interact with - there reactions are often confusing and disorientating through the distorted lens of dorsal, that we are completely unaware of. We imagine it is them as opposed to us. The gaze of professionals can be just as disorienting. Their well-meaning expressions spark a quiet panic in your soul, signalling not understanding but judgment — mirroring the relentless self-criticism already at play within you.
The following exercise aims to bridge the gap.
Visualise two buffet tables in front of you:
•The Table of Abundance (Ventral State) — a luxurious delicious, nutritious, banquet
•The Table of Lack (Dorsal State) — a table with a murky grey tablecloth, less than appetising, although similar in appearance to the untrained eye
Each table is filled with "food" — but this food is not physical. It represents thoughts.
Here's how it works:
1.The Luxurious Table (Ventral: Abundance) contains thoughts of joy, love, gratitude, possibility, and hope.
2.The Grey Table (Dorsal: Lack) contains thoughts of scarcity, fear, hopelessness, and isolation.
The choice of which table you "eat" from determines your internal experience. Remember this simple process:
Thought → Feeling → Action
If you select "joy" from the ventral table, what does joy feel like in your body? Heart, Soul?
You begin to feel joy within, which shapes your actions and, in turn, your lived experience.
If you select "lack of joy" from the dorsal table, you feel its absence, leading to experiences of isolation, scarcity, and limitation. True for every choice you make
Something you may be unaware of is, your starting point is always your last choice. Your point of power is NOW...
Every choice is a fresh opportunity to decide which table you will eat from next. But here's the challenge:
When we experience trauma, it's like being locked in a room with only the 'lack of' table. The luxurious 'ventral' table is there, but is feels unreachable, out of bounds, unavailable to the 'likes of you'. We observe as others select the juicy fruits of love, joy, wellbeing and abundance, but its off limits - no obvious access - which feels like exclusion. You may believe there's no other option but to consume from the Table of Lack. The more we observe others enjoying the table of abundance, the more we gorge on a diet of 'a lack of', internalising misery. This is the experience of a "dorsal state" — the shutdown, numbness, and disconnection that often follow overwhelm or trauma.
The Way Out - The gift of inclusion..
Here's the secret: You use your imagination to "transform" the 'dorsal' lack of table into the ventral table of abundance. We don’t realise this from the dorsal perspective, someone needs to guide us. It’s challenging, but it’s entirely achievable with the right support in the right space, with reassurance understanding and without criticism or judgment.
Instead of trying to fight your way out of the dorsal state, which only serves to keep you trapped in there, you come to see abundance where you currently see lack. By "tricking" your brain, you shift perception from scarcity to abundance.
Someone from the table of abundance has to open the door for you, authentically welcoming you in… guide you to take your rightful place at the table of abundance, helping you to choose what to eat.. they do so - as an equal, you are not a guest .. reminding you how you have always belonged here, even though you may not feel like you should be there.
Your invite to dine at the table of an abundance has to be constantly renewed and communicated to you until you feel you belong. It has to be okay when you forget your manners, spill on your clothes, forget to use your cutlery. You are welcomed and guided back to the table until you are able to approach and consume from the table alone - once you feel safe, confident and comfortable to do so.
There is a buffer of time between the thoughts we consume and the experiences they create. Unsure? What is your current state? Which table have you been feasting from? Your current state is not fixed — it is simply the result of past choices, and a new choice can redirect your experience.
Beliefs are the thoughts we persistently hold. Since thoughts are malleable, we have the power to alter our beliefs by consciously selecting different thoughts.
5 Take-aways...
- You are always choosing which table to eat from.
- Trauma makes you feel trapped with the Table of Lack, but it is only an illusion.
- Your power is now. The table you choose today shapes the feelings and actions you experience tomorrow.
- You can shift states by changing your perspective — see the possibility, love, or joy hidden within the present moment.
- We are here to support and guide you through.. Get In Touch
(Food for Thought; The Two Tables of the Mind - by Deborah J Crozier/2024).
From the Safety of Ventral
If you’ve been fortunate enough to spend most of your life in a ventral vagal nervous system state, you might not fully understand what it’s like to experience a dorsal state. You may not realize the toll it takes when an overactive inner critic constantly drives negative self-perception at every turn, or when your perspective is persistently shaped by a sense of scarcity and inadequacy, no matter the situation.
You might not comprehend the profound exhaustion of trying to push forward when every cell in your body feels like giving up. The pervasive sense of disconnection and isolation—saturating every part of one’s being—might be entirely foreign to you.
It’s easy to see the surface symptoms without grasping the deeper struggles beneath. If ventral has been your baseline—the state that fosters joy, creativity, love, and self-worth—take a moment to be grateful. And before passing judgment, consider the privilege of never having lived through what you cannot truly understand.
Imposter
What is Imposter Syndrome Really?
Imposter Syndrome is often described as a persistent lack of self-belief — a chronic sense of self-doubt. At its core, self-doubt is a loss of trust, both in our own judgment and in the judgments of others. This loss of trust is, in many cases, a trauma response.
The root cause of self-doubt lies in our negative core beliefs. Over time, we unconsciously assign meaning to the negative behaviours of others, asking ourselves questions like, “What did I do to make them treat me that way?” This pattern leads us to internalise blame and view others’ unkind actions as a reflection of our own worth. In reality, other people’s behaviour says more about them than it does about us.
However, this internalised negative self-narrative becomes persistent. Critical and judgmental self-talk keeps us trapped in a cycle of self-loathing and doubt, constantly seeking validation and approval from others. We become highly sensitive to external triggers — words, actions, or events that echo past traumas. Often, these triggers operate outside of our conscious awareness.
Internal triggers are just as powerful. They tap into our deepest fears and insecurities. For example, if we hold a long-standing core belief like “I’m not good enough,” any comment, action, or situation that aligns with this belief can provoke intense emotional distress. In an effort to escape these uncomfortable feelings, we may turn to avoidance behaviours like overeating, overworking, shopping, drinking alcohol, or withdrawing socially.
How do we heal from Imposter Syndrome?
The healing process begins with self-care and self-awareness — learning to understand how we feel about ourselves at a core level. Society often teaches us to seek validation from external sources, but true growth comes from looking within. By addressing and reprogramming these deep-seated beliefs, we can break free from the cycle of doubt and rediscover our self-worth.
If you’re ready to begin your healing journey, we’re here to support you.
Contact us via our website: contact page
Area of Compromise
There are many of us in the world who can find it difficult to express our thoughts and emotions.. struggling to articulate what we truly think and feel.
Why is that?
Some may believe we simply have nothing valuable to say.
Others assume it’s due to a lack of intelligence or convince themselves that something is inherently “wrong” with those who struggle, based on their own ideas of how a person should be.
Some find people who struggle to express themselves to be boring, tiresome, frustrating, which often creates a power imbalance. Their inner frustrations move them to want to control or bully others - the immediate reaction being instinctive—a knee-jerk response to jump in, because they assume to know better, understand more, think quicker; they sometimes even pity those who struggle to speak up for themselves.
Others might attribute it to a lack of confidence, offering well-meaning advice about how you don’t do yourself justice by staying silent.
But for many, the struggle to speak up has deeper roots.
Perhaps they grew up in environments where expressing thoughts or feelings wasn’t an option.
Maybe it didn’t feel safe.
Maybe speaking the truth caused pain, embarrassment, or fear for others.
Perhaps expressing an opinion put them—or someone else—in danger.
For some, it might have been easier to learn to feel nothing at all, to avoid the risk entirely.
Maybe school reinforced this idea, where speaking out was seen as inappropriate or defiant.
“Fingers on lips.”
“Honor thy mother and father.”
“Do as you’re told.”
Later in life, they may have encountered systems that demanded restraint:
“Play it down.”
“Don’t rock the boat.”
“Stick to what’s acceptable.”
Perhaps they were taught what they could or couldn’t say, what parts of their truth were “admissible” and what parts were not, even when it all felt the same to them.
Maybe they were told to let sleeping dogs lie, to “shut up and put up,” to give their head a shake and get on with it.
Over time, the uncertainty of what not to say—and when—might have pushed them further into the background. It felt safer to fade into the shadows, away from the spotlight.
They learned to sit still and stay quiet.
Perhaps they were told it was rude, selfish, or ungrateful to have an opinion—to want something more.
And so, they locked it all away.
Swallowing their feelings.
Holding everything in.
But sometimes, when this is part of our background, something else happens as we grow and develop.
We swing too far in the other direction.
Instead of remaining quiet, we become overzealous.
Arrogance gets mistaken for confidence, and the ego grows louder.
We convince ourselves we’ve “found our voice” and start reacting impulsively—jumping in with knee-jerk responses to ill-thought-out ideas.
If someone suggests we’ve gone too far, we immediately assume they’re just like those people from our past—trying to silence us, shut us down. Memories of the past are stored in our bodies, triggering us in the present, so we double down.
Believing we know better, we push forward with a boosted sense of confidence. We climb the greasy pole, silencing anyone who dares to challenge us. We might even congratulate ourselves on how far we’ve come, mistaking arrogance for growth.
But in reality, we may have taken a wrong turn—heading straight for disaster.
As we act more recklessly, it becomes harder to contain, and we find ourselves looping back to where we started: locked in and suffering.
Why does this happen?
Because the human brain’s first thought is often a negative one.
It draws on past experiences—reacting from the bottom up, driven by habit, default thinking, and knee-jerk reactions.
Until we learn to STAND.
•S: Stop. Slow the process down.
•T: Think. Bring attention to your thoughts and feelings. Is your first thought a negative one? Judgment? Criticism? Fear?
•A: Act. Recognize that if your first thought is negative, your feelings will likely follow. And when your feelings are negative, what will your actions be?
Past trauma often complicates this process. It can make us doubt ourselves—and others—even if we don’t show it outwardly. This doubt plays out internally, creating an ongoing conflict between what we feel and how we act. We may feel unsure whether to trust our instincts or the intentions of those around us.
Never Doubt: For this reason, the first three steps—Stop, Think, Act—are essential. They help us move beyond the reactive patterns shaped by past experiences. They allow us to slow down and examine whether our immediate thoughts and feelings are rooted in the past or grounded in the present.
When we pause, reflect, and act deliberately, we reclaim the ability to respond in a way that serves us, rather than being controlled by old wounds or habits.
Imagine this:
You’re walking down a dark alley late at night, alone. Suddenly, you think you hear footsteps behind you.
What does that thought make you feel?
And how do those feelings impact your actions?
Now imagine a different scenario. You’re in the same alley, but this time you think you hear the voice of your best friend calling out to you.
How does that thought make you feel?
And how does it affect your actions?
This illustrates a simple formula for avoiding compromise:
•If the thought is negative, and the feeling is negative, the action is clear: retreat, withdraw, get out—OUT.
•If the thought is positive, and the feeling is positive, the action is to move closer, stay, engage—IN.
It’s either one or the other.
Negative/Negative = OUT.
Positive/Positive = IN.
(Imagine - you’re in the dark alley alone, when think you hear footsteps coming up behind you .. and instead of moving away from potential danger, you turn and run towards it instead; OUT, OUT, IN)
When the thought is negative, and the feeling is negative, yet we still choose to act as if it’s positive (staying IN), we enter the realm of compromise.
This is where manipulation thrives.
It’s how grooming works.
Grooming is the manipulation of a persons thoughts and feelings with the intention of either misdirecting their thoughts and feelings or over riding their own thoughts and feelings..
If someone manipulates your thoughts and feelings to convince you to stay IN, even when your mind and body are alerting you to choose OUT, they gain control over you. You end up acting against yourself, either because you don’t pay attention to yourself or because you daren’t act against the manipulation - ultimately benefiting the manipulator.
By learning to STOP, THINK, ACT and NEVER DOUBTing that - in alignment with your best interests, you reclaim your ability to make choices that serve you—not your past, not your fears, and certainly not someone else’s agenda.
How I Think About Me
Self Discovery for Recovery Program
Our Self Discovery for Recovery program is designed to help individuals overcome dysregulation, unhelpful thinking patterns, and negative core beliefs.
It offers practical tools and guidance to promote self-awareness, self-compassion, and a deeper understanding of oneself.
This transformative program also supports healing by teaching ways to manage heavy, unresolved emotions that can accumulate in our bodies over time, causing pain and suffering. Left unaddressed, these emotions often lead to unhealthy coping strategies and a cycle of self-blame for “not knowing better.”
Through self-awareness and compassionate practices, participants learn to break free from these patterns, rebuild self-esteem and confidence, and create healthier, more balanced lives—no matter where they are starting from. Self Discovery for Recovery empowers you to embrace healing and rediscover the power of self-love.
For details about our services, please visit our contact page.
Dysregulation
Good Morning!
Drawing on research in interpersonal neurobiology, Polyvagal Theory, and trauma-informed practices, we have developed a workshop aimed at fostering emotional regulation in schools. By blending these scientific insights with lived experience, our workshop provides practical strategies to support students in managing their emotions and building resilience.
Understanding dysregulation—what it is and what happens in the body when someone is dysregulated—is key to supporting students effectively. Recognizing these signs allows educators to respond compassionately and effectively, helping students regain a state of calm and focus.
This blog post offers a brief overview of dysregulation, exploring the science behind it and why it's so important for educators and students alike to understand.
Neural Pathways, Emotional Regulation, and Learned Behaviour
From infancy, our brains are designed to develop through a process known as co-regulation with caregivers. This experience-expectant learning—where neural pathways are shaped by consistent experiences—teaches us how to meet our needs. For example, when a baby feels hunger, signalled by sensations like a rumbling tummy, the caregiver typically responds by feeding them. Over time, the child learns to associate the sensation of hunger with the need for food, which helps regulate the nervous system. This process is closely tied to interoception, our internal sense of bodily signals, which allows us to interpret and respond to our body's needs.
However, when this co-regulation doesn't develop in a balanced way, such as if caregivers respond with food to every cry (regardless of whether the baby is hungry), it can lead to misaligned neural circuits. The child may learn to view food as a solution to all distress. This can leave the nervous system dysregulated, as fundamental needs are not being accurately identified or met.
Emotional Learning and Big Emotions
As we grow, we begin to encounter and learn about complex emotions—like anger, sadness, and other "big" emotions that can be painful. Often, caregivers who themselves struggle with managing emotions may focus on teaching children what not to do with these feelings rather than guiding them on how to process and understand them. But emotions don't simply vanish because we're told to suppress them. Instead, unprocessed emotions linger in the nervous system and can resurface as "triggers"—felt bodily sensations that bring up unresolved anger, fear, or sadness each time similar situations arise.
Emotions as Energy in Motion
Emotion itself can be seen as "energy in motion," a natural flow of information and energy within and between people. When emotions are suppressed or unaddressed—often due to a lack of co-regulation or tools for self-regulation—they remain in the body, leading to dysregulation and trauma. This unprocessed energy can create patterns of reactivity or behavioural control. For instance, if we haven't learned to process our emotions, we may lash out at others, seek to control others' behaviours to feel more secure, or internalize our pain, leading to suffering.
The Cycle of Dysregulation and Coping
To alleviate this internal suffering, we may look for ways to numb our pain through external means—like food, substances, gambling, or other compulsive behaviours. These coping mechanisms offer temporary relief but often reinforce dysregulation, as they do not address the underlying emotional needs or help us develop healthier neural pathways.
Neuroception and Learning TRUST
A key symptom of trauma is a lack of trust - both in ourselves and in others. Trauma shakes us at our very core. This is why it is essential to create a safe, compassionate, non-judgemental environment when we are dysregulated.
Our nervous system is constantly on the lookout, monitoring both internal and external environments, this is called Neuroception. When our nervous system perceives safety, it shifts us into a state of connection, known as the Ventral State. This state fosters social engagement and a sense of calm. However, when it detects a threat—whether real or perceived—it switches to a state of protection, triggering the fight-or-flight response to keep us safe. Judgement and criticism (real or perceived) are major triggers that put us back in the cycle of dysregulation. This automatic response helps us navigate our surroundings and respond appropriately to different situations, whether it’s connecting with others or defending ourselves from potential harm. Our bodies are wired to ensure our safety and social well-being.
When dysregulation builds in the body, we become more easily triggered by reminders of past negative experiences that haven't been fully processed. These unaddressed events leave a pressure within us, and our bodies instinctively seek ways to release it. The more trauma we've experienced and left unresolved, the more deeply dysregulated we may become.
These inner pressures often trigger the body's natural threat responses—fight, flight, freeze, or fawn—causing us to react in ways that may feel beyond our control. In these moments of dysregulation, what we need most is a safe, supportive environment with calm, regulated adults. When others respond with aggression, control, or judgment, it only deepens our dysregulation, as we're already in a state of heightened sensitivity. What truly fosters healing is TRUST.
When we are dysregulated, we need:
•Trigger identification and acknowledgment
•Reassurance and understanding
•Understanding and compassion from others
•Safety in our environment
•Truth and transparency in interactions
These elements help us calm down, restore balance, and re-engage the rational part of our brain.
Our team at A Positive Start CIC who support clients locally and worldwide, is made up of lived-experience practitioners who have spent over 40 years understanding and managing dysregulation in all its forms. Through first hand experience with dysregulation and trauma, we've learned that while each person's journey is unique, there are shared themes that can guide healing. We draw on these commonalities to help others recognize, address, and heal from their own dysregulation and trauma. While many services currently offer support, what makes A Positive Start unique is our lived experience insight. We bring a genuine understanding of dysregulation, rooted in first-hand experiences, and commitment to putting people before profit. Not only do we prioritize meaningful compassionate support, but we also reinvest the profits we make back into our local community, ensuring our work creates a ripple effect of positive change. For further information about our services, including Supporting Regulation in Schools and Trauma Informed TRUST, please contact us.
References:
Emotional Dysregulation:
Linehan, M. M. (1993). Cognitive-Behavioural Treatment of Borderline Personality Disorder. New York: Guilford Press.
Marsha Linehan is often credited with pioneering the study of emotional dysregulation in the context of borderline personality disorder and the development of Dialectical Behaviour Therapy (DBT).
Polyvagal Theory and Neuroception:
Porges, S. W. (2011). The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological Foundations of Emotions, Attachment, Communication, and Self-Regulation. New York: W. W. Norton & Company.
Stephen Porges introduced Polyvagal Theory, providing insights into how the autonomic nervous system influences emotions and social behaviours, and coined the term "Neuroception" to describe the subconscious process of detecting safety or threat.
Complex Trauma and the Body:
Van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. New York: Penguin Books.
Bessel van der Kolk's work explores how trauma is stored in the body and impacts mental and physical health, highlighting the importance of trauma-informed approaches.
Emotional Flashbacks:
Grannon, R. (2013). Emotional Flashbacks: A New Way to Understand PTSD. Self-Published.
Richard Grannon has contributed to the understanding of emotional flashbacks, particularly in the context of complex PTSD and emotional regulation.
Interpersonal Neurobiology:
Siegel, D. J. (2012). The Developing Mind: How Relationships and the Brain Interact to Shape Who We Are. New York: Guilford Press.
Dan Siegel's work in interpersonal neurobiology emphasizes how relationships and emotional connection shape brain development and emotional health.
Lived Experience Insight:
Crozier, D. J. (2024). Lived Experience Reflections on Emotional Dysregulation and Trauma Support. Personal blog and social media posts.
Deborah J. Crozier's lived experience insights contribute to understanding trauma-informed approaches, co-regulation, and the impact of attachment and nervous system regulation on emotional well-being.
Additional Support:
My blog posts are written from my own thoughts, ideas, learning and experiences. AI is used to help to articulate and create a more coherent experience for the reader. I reference AI to ensure credit is given where credit is due. Truth and integrity are essential.
ChatGPT by OpenAI. (2024). Contributions and support for information synthesis.
