www.apositivestart.org.uk
When Complex Trauma Shapes Our Thinking
It starts as something simple.
A message.
A warm, friendly “Hey, want to grab a coffee?”
But what happens next says far more about trauma than it does about coffee.
The message is read — but not replied to.
The person who sent it begins to feel a ripple of discomfort.
They check their phone again.
Still nothing.
They’ve seen it… Why haven’t they answered?
They must be avoiding me.
Did I do something wrong?
I’ve upset them… again.
They hate me.
Meanwhile, the friend who received the message?
They’re just busy. Cooking, driving, working, or distracted by life.
They smiled at the message — and fully intend to respond when they have a moment.
But the sender doesn’t know that.
Their mind spirals. Their chest tightens. They pace. Ruminate. Replay conversations in their head, trying to spot the moment they messed it all up.
They’re thrown out to sea with no raft — treading water, emotionally overwhelmed, heart pounding with a quiet terror they can’t fully explain.
Eventually, they type a second message:
“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you — I understand.”
Now the friend is confused and on edge.
What are you talking about? I’m just busy. Why would you think that?
Both people are now dysregulated.
Both are reacting from past experiences.
And neither intended to hurt the other.
What’s Really Going On?
The unseen weight of complex trauma and core beliefs!
When someone grows up in an environment where love was conditional, inconsistent, or unsafe, their nervous system wires itself for survival.
They become hyper-attuned to changes in tone, energy, or availability — because in childhood, those changes often signalled danger or abandonment.
This kind of complex trauma shapes deep core beliefs, like:
- I am too much
- I don’t matter
- People always leave
- If I make a mistake, I’ll be rejected
- I have to earn my place in someone’s life
So, when something as simple as a pause or silence happens, it isn’t experienced neutrally —
it activates the entire history of being dismissed, abandoned, or emotionally unsafe.
The body reacts. The mind scrambles for answers.
But the moment isn’t about the coffee anymore — it’s about reliving the past through the lens of the present.
Now there are two realities
- The sender is in emotional panic, experiencing abandonment.
- The receiver is confused, experiencing pressure or guilt.
What started as a simple exchange now feels like conflict or rejection — for both.
We often hear about the importance of self-regulation — but for those with complex trauma, the ability to self-soothe wasn’t developed in early life.
Why?
Because we learn to self-regulate by being co-regulated first.
As children, we need consistent, attuned caregivers to hold us through distress. To say, “You’re OK. I’m here.” To model calm. To help us find our way back to safety.
Without that, we’re left alone with big feelings — often punished or ignored for having them.
So when distress arises in adulthood, we may not have the internal tools — the raft — to stay afloat.
We reach out. We apologise too quickly. We panic.
Not because we’re broken, but because we’re doing what we always had to do to survive.
Self-regulation comes after co-regulation.
It’s learned through safe, attuned relationships — and repeated practice.
🛟 This is where the
TRUST framework comes in
Healing doesn’t mean never getting triggered.
It means noticing what’s happening, and responding in a new way.
TRUST:
Trigger recognition
Reassurance
Understanding
Safety
Truth
How TRUST helps in this moment:
- T – Trigger Recognition
The sender pauses: “This feels intense — is it about now, or am I being reminded of something old?” - R – Reassurance
Instead of spiralling, they ground: “My friend probably hasn’t had time. I am still safe. I can wait.” - U – Understanding
Compassion flows both ways. The sender understands their own wounds. The friend sees the deeper context. - S – Safety
A moment of self-regulation changes the direction. Maybe no second message is sent, or it’s worded differently:
“No worries if you’re busy — just checking in when you’ve got time.” - T – Truth
The imagined story (they’re mad at me) is replaced with reality (they were just busy).
It only takes one person to throw the lifeline!
Whether it’s you or the other — someone’s nervous system has to stay grounded to calm the storm.
But ideally, both people begin to notice the pattern, own their stories, and support safer connection.
This is the work we do through trauma-informed support.
This is why TRUST matters.
TRUST Training by A Positive Start - with Lived Experience Insight…
Because positive outcomes begin with…
A Positive Start.
#TRUST
#TriggerRecognition
#CoreBeliefs
#ComplexTrauma
#RelationalHealing
#TraumaInformedSupport
#SelfAwareness
#EmotionalRegulation
#APositiveStartCIC
#HealthyCommunication
#InnerSafety
#RelationalSafety
A trauma-informed approach to everyday challenges
Parenting is one of the most important — and most complex — roles we’ll ever take on. It doesn’t come with a manual, and many of us are learning in real time, often while healing from our own past experiences.
If you’ve ever found yourself saying things you didn’t mean or reacting in ways that didn’t feel aligned with your values, you are not alone. Many of us are simply repeating what we heard or experienced as children, without even realising it.
The good news is this: change is possible — and it starts with awareness, not perfection.
This guide isn’t about blame or getting it “right” all the time. It’s about offering new language that helps children feel safe, seen, and supported, especially in moments of challenge. It’s okay if this feels unfamiliar at first. Like any new skill, it takes time, patience, and lots of self-compassion.
You’re not expected to be perfect — just present. Every small shift you make towards connection matters. Every moment of repair, curiosity, or calm presence helps shape your child’s nervous system, and your own.
Let’s explore this together, one gentle step at a time.
This guide offers compassionate, trauma-informed language to support children who are pushing boundaries, expressing needs through behaviour, or struggling with routine tasks. These phrases help create connection, safety, and understanding.
1. When a child isn’t listening to 'no'
Instead of: “How many times do I have to tell you? I said NO!”
Try:
“It looks like that ‘no’ felt hard to hear. Do you want to tell me what you were hoping for?”
2. When a child doesn’t want to wash hands/face
Instead of: “Stop being difficult — go wash your hands now!”
Try:
3. When they resist brushing their teeth properly
Instead of: “Brush them properly or you’ll get bad teeth!”
Try:
4. When rules are ignored or broken
Instead of: “You’re not listening again! Why can’t you just follow the rules?”
Try:
5. When a child resists bedtime
Instead of: “Enough! Go to bed now or no stories!”
Try:
We are all learning — children and grown-ups alike.
What Happens When We Feel Uncomfortable?
What Happens When We Feel Uncomfortable?
- And Why That Discomfort Might Be a Clue, Not a Problem
Ever felt yourself physically or emotionally pull back when something doesn’t sit right?
You hear a story…
You read a post…
Someone shares something real, raw, painful—
And inside, you squirm.
You tense.
You cross your arms.
You scroll faster.
You check out.
You’re not cold. You’re not uncaring.
Your nervous system is protecting you.
It’s subtle. Often unconscious. But powerful.
You may not notice.
But your body does.
Others notice - those sensitive to change, hyper-vigilant, Neurodivergent, traumatised, the present & mindful #Neuroception
Your body recognises something before your mind does.
It senses discomfort, and the threat response kicks in.
You disconnect.
You stop feeling.
You shut down.
This is dysregulation.
And it’s more common than most people realise.
When we’re dysregulated, we’re not present.
We’re not connected to ourselves—or others.
We can’t co-regulate.
We can’t empathise.
We’re in survival mode.
A dysregulated adult cannot regulate a dysregulated child or another adult.
This matters deeply for parents, carers, teachers, therapists and helping professionals.
Because when your nervous system is shut down, you’re not available, even if your body is in the room.
The first thing I teach my counselling students is this:
You cannot support someone else’s healing if you are not present in your own body.
And that’s no one’s fault.
But we must notice it.
Because overwhelmed staff, however well-intentioned, aren’t just tired—
They’re dysregulated.
And a dysregulated workforce cannot offer consistent safety to those they serve.
So what can help?
One answer lies in understanding what might be trapped inside us.
According to Dr. Bradley Nelson, author of The Emotion Code, many of us carry trapped emotions—energetic imprints from unresolved past experiences, often from childhood.
These emotional imprints shape how we think, feel, and act.
That’s why in our STAND – Parents as Protectors program, we explore the Think–Feel–Act process:
What was the thought?
What did I feel in my body?
What did I do in response?
By slowing things down, we can begin to notice our patterns.
By noticing our patterns, we open the door to healing.
And when we heal, we reconnect.
Because the goal isn’t perfection—
It’s presence.
So today, just notice:
What makes you pull back?
Where does your body react before your mind catches up?
What would it take to stay present—even for a moment longer?
Awareness is the first step.
Compassion is the second.
Healing happens in connection.
Let’s go deeper.
What happens after we disconnect?
When Judgement Is a Nervous System Response - And Why It Might Say More About Safety Than Truth!
Often—we judge.
We criticise.
We label.
We might even diagnose or pathologise—especially in professional settings.
But have you ever asked yourself:
❓ What’s happening in me when I move into judgement of someone else?
❓ Why do I feel the urge to define them, fix them, or dismiss them?
More often than not, judgement is a symptom of a dysregulated nervous system.
When we feel unsafe—but don’t recognise it—our mind steps in to make sense of the discomfort.
And that sense-making often sounds like:
“They’re too much.”
“They’re unstable.”
“They must have a disorder.”
“They need to calm down.”
Judgement gives us the illusion of control when we’ve lost connection.
It’s a defence—because empathy feels too vulnerable when our own system is overwhelmed.
In trauma-informed practice, we pause and ask:
Is this a reaction to the other person? Or a reaction to my own dysregulation?
Because pathologising another human being can be a bypass.
A way to avoid feeling what’s been stirred in us.
And while diagnostic frameworks have their place,
When we use them to distance, diminish, or dismiss— We’re no longer supporting.
We’re protecting ourselves from what we haven’t yet made sense of.
This is why in our STAND – Parents as Protectors program, we challenge the habit of labelling others before we’ve explored our own regulation.
We ask:
“What’s really going on in me right now?”
“Am I thinking clearly?”
“Can I feel my body?”
“Am I reacting from my past or responding to the present?”
Because when we’re regulated, we don’t need to shame, blame or name-call.
We can hold space.
We can stay curious.
We can see the human, not the label.
So today, if you find yourself judging someone harshly—
Pause.
Breathe.
Notice your body.
And ask:
Is this judgement… or is this protection?
Do I feel safe enough to see them clearly, without turning them into a threat?
True trauma-informed care doesn’t start with diagnosing others.
It starts with regulating ourselves.
We’ve explored what happens when we disconnect…
When we move into judgement of others…
But what about when we turn it inward?
When the voice in our head says:
“It’s all my fault.”
“I’m too much.”
“I should be over this by now.”
“I ruin everything.”
“There’s something wrong with me.”
This too… is often dysregulation.
When our nervous system shifts into survival, we lose access to curiosity, compassion, and clear thinking.
We don’t see ourselves accurately.
We see ourselves as the problem.
This internal collapse is rooted in past experiences where connection was withdrawn, emotions weren’t safe to express, or where our needs were too big for the people around us to meet.
So we adapted.
We blamed ourselves.
We made ourselves small.
And that pattern became automatic.
In trauma work, we call this internalised shame.
It’s not a character flaw.
It’s a protective strategy your body learned to survive disconnection.
When we feel dysregulated, shame often rushes in.
It fills the space where safety, co-regulation, or understanding should have been.
And here’s the paradox:
The more we judge ourselves…
The more dysregulated we become.
The more dysregulated we are…
The more likely we are to judge.
That’s why self-compassion isn’t fluffy or indulgent—
It’s vital for healing.
It’s the pathway back to safety.
In our STAND – Parents as Protectors program, we support participants to recognise this pattern using the same Think–Feel–Act process:
What’s the thought?
What’s the feeling in my body?
What’s the automatic response?
By becoming aware of this cycle, we create space to choose differently.
We learn to pause, breathe, and remind ourselves:
“This is old.”
“This is survival, not truth.”
“I don’t need to shrink to be safe anymore.”
The voice of shame is not your truth.
It’s your nervous system trying to protect you—
By turning you against yourself.
So today, if your inner critic is loud,
Pause.
Place a hand on your heart.
And ask:
What does my body need to feel safe right now?
What would kindness say?
Because healing doesn’t happen through shame.
It happens through safety, slowness, and self-connection.
You don’t have to be hard on yourself to grow.
You just have to come home to yourself—one breath at a time.
#TraumaInformed
#NervousSystemAwareness
About Our Founders Role
Deborah J Crozier is the founder and a director of A Positive Start CIC since 2017.
While she holds a governance role as a director, along with all of our directors, she is not remunerated for those duties.
Since February 2025, Deborah has worked full-time with the organisation on a self-employed, contracted basis, delivering trauma-informed therapeutic support, managing project delivery and leading the development of our services.
Prior to this, Deborah balanced her work with APS on a voluntary basis, alongside employed roles, initially Project Manager for a local charity, latterly as a school counsellor. She made the decision to transition fully into self-employment to ensure consistency, sustainability and high-quality deliver of our mission. Her contracted pay is below her previous employed income and is in line with fair and reasonable remuneration for services delivered. All work is invoiced and recorded transparently, and any payments are made in full compliance with our Articles of Association and CIC regulations.
Shame Disguised as Motivation
Let’s Talk About Shame Disguised as Motivation
Something’s been showing up repeatedly in my feed — and it needs to be addressed.
Images of disabled people being used as inspirational tools to shame others:
“If I can work with no hands, so can you.”
“If you can scroll on social media, you can work.”
Let’s be clear — this is not empowerment. This is shame-based bullying. And it is deeply harmful.
This narrative pushes a dangerous message:
That your struggle is invalid because someone else has it “worse.” That you should stop claiming disability support. That you’re lazy.
It’s not just unkind — it’s wilfully ignorant.
It assumes that all disabilities are visible.
That trauma doesn’t exist.
That chronic illness, anxiety, neurological differences, or exhaustion aren’t real.
That everyone who can physically touch a screen is mentally and emotionally well enough to function in a workplace.
This is not person-centred thinking.
No two people are the same.
No two stories are the same.
Recovery looks different for everyone. Some people may never recover. That doesn’t make their life less valuable or their needs less real.
If someone has overcome incredible odds and is now able to work — that’s a story worth honouring. For them. But using their story to shame others is not inspiring. It’s violent.
What people need is:
• Compassion
• Care
• Support
• Time
• And the right to be believed.
So if you’re tempted to share one of those posts, stop and ask:
“Is this helping — or is this hurting?”
To those who are struggling quietly, feeling unseen, invalidated or shamed by these messages — I see you. You don’t need to prove your pain to anyone.
You matter.
Your experience is real.
And you are not alone.
Perhaps one of the hardest parts to witness is this:
Why do people make comparisons with others who are suffering — to judge what they cannot possibly understand?
Because judgment feels safer than empathy.
Empathy requires courage. It asks us to sit beside someone in their pain without fixing it, ranking it, or pushing it away. That’s confronting — especially for those still running from their own wounds.
Suffering holds up a mirror.
And for many, that mirror is unbearable.
To see someone struggling — especially when that struggle is raw, messy, invisible, or ongoing — reflects back all the fears we try to keep hidden:
What if I break down? What if I need help and no one comes? What if I’m not strong enough?
So instead, some people turn away. Or worse, turn on those who are already hurting.
To say, “You should be coping better.”
To imply, “It’s your fault.”
To believe, “That will never be me.”
But here’s the truth:
No one escapes life untouched. And when we stop judging and start listening, we begin to heal — together.
And while we’re here — it’s worth asking: Who is sharing these posts, and why now?
Because I don’t believe in coincidence.
These “inspirational” shame posts often surface during political debates about disability benefits, just as media headlines begin to push narratives about “scroungers” or “fraudsters.” They don’t appear in isolation — they rise alongside policy shifts and public messaging designed to divide, distract, and dehumanise.
We must ask:
Who benefits from this narrative?
Certainly not those who are struggling.
It’s not motivation — it’s manipulation. And we need to see it for what it is.
“The test of our humanity is not how we treat the strong, but how we stand with the wounded.”
The Other Side of the Desk: The Dehumanising Reality of the Benefits System
When people think about "the benefits system," there’s often a polarised narrative. Some imagine it as a safety net abused by people who don’t want to work, who live off the state in comfort. Others, like me, know the truth firsthand — and it’s not just a different reality, it’s a soul-destroying one.
Accessing benefits in the UK isn’t just about filling out forms. It’s about leaving your dignity at the door. It’s about standing in a system that echoes your worst inner fears — that you are worthless, a burden, and somehow to blame for needing help.
Shame thrives here.
So does silence.
Because talking about the true cost of being in the system — emotionally, psychologically, and even physically — opens you up to more judgement. The very act of seeking support is treated as evidence of your failure, rather than your strength.
Many people believe that claiming benefits is easy, that people do it to ‘have an easy life’. But the truth is, being on benefits loudly announces to the world — and to yourself — that you've somehow ‘failed’ at life. And that message isn't subtle. It's delivered daily through the structure of the system, the tone of letters, the degrading interviews, and the suspicion that seems baked into every interaction.
The System Dehumanises
It’s not set up to support healing or recovery. It's designed to test, measure, and invalidate. The support people are told to seek — after illness, trauma, abuse, or loss — comes at a cost: invasive assessments, impossible expectations, and repeated humiliations. And the message is clear: you must prove your suffering is real, again and again.
The impact on a person’s nervous system when they are reliant on the benefits system cannot be overstated. Living with the constant threat of your income being reduced or removed — often on the whim of successive governments — places the body in a prolonged state of stress. The sympathetic nervous system is activated, keeping individuals stuck in survival mode, flooded with cortisol and adrenaline. Over time, this chronic dysregulation leads to exhaustion, burnout, and serious health consequences. It erodes a person’s sense of safety and belonging, disconnecting them from hope, self-worth, and even from their own body. What’s often dismissed as ‘laziness’ or ‘lack of motivation’ is in reality a nervous system collapse — a trauma response from years of systemic threat and invalidation.
What’s worse is the belief that if someone is struggling — emotionally or financially — they shouldn’t be allowed to enjoy life. There’s an unspoken rule that if you're not contributing to the economy, you should be invisible, silent, and sad. God forbid you're seen smiling at a café or sharing a happy photo online — it becomes evidence that you're not struggling "enough."
Disconnection as a Survival Strategy
Many people in the system have learned to disconnect from themselves just to get through the day. And yes, in some cases, there are people who’ve given up, who turn to substances or sleep away the hours — but what’s never asked is why?
Often, it’s years of trauma and systemic failures that brought them to that place. People don't just give up — they’ve been worn down. Many have been abused, neglected, and repeatedly failed by the very institutions meant to protect them. And instead of support, they’re met with suspicion.
Judgement Masquerading as Help
Professionals working within the system — assessors, case workers, decision-makers — are often themselves disconnected and dysregulated. Not always, but often. Empathy isn’t valued. Efficiency is. Compassion is replaced with a checklist. And the people who sit across the desk from you — making decisions about your life — have been trained to question your credibility, not your pain.
Why It Matters
This isn’t just about being kind for kindness' sake. Science shows that compassion heals. Trauma-informed, person-centred support enables people to recover faster, become more resilient, and move forward. If the system were built on understanding and care, fewer people would get stuck in it.
But that’s not the goal. Because when someone starts to get better — when there’s even a flicker of hope or recovery — the support is pulled away. They’re expected to return to full capacity immediately, cover impossible costs of living, and function as though the past never happened. Unsurprisingly, many end up right back where they started, only more depleted.
It Doesn’t Have to Be This Way
Just like our education system is beginning to question outdated, punitive policies, the benefits system needs radical change. We need to build structures that see people as human — not numbers, not claims, not problems to solve or weeds to pull.
We need to reframe success — not as how quickly someone can ‘get off benefits,’ but how fully they can rebuild their lives with dignity and hope. Until then, we’ll keep trapping people in cycles of shame and survival.
Let’s start talking about this openly.
Let’s challenge the narratives that blame individuals for the failure of systems.
And let’s remember: every single person in need of support is a human being — no less worthy, no less valuable, no less deserving of compassion than anyone else.
TRUST & RAPPORT
At A Positive Start CIC, we believe that healing doesn’t begin with theory. It begins with safety. And safety begins with TRUST—a trauma-informed framework rooted in lived experience, nervous system science, and human compassion.
For those living with complex trauma, especially from early childhood, being in a constant survival state often becomes the default. Many of our responses—what we label as fight, flight, freeze, or fawn—are not choices. They are reflexes. And most of them happen outside of our awareness.
The TRUST framework was born from this understanding. It’s how we work, how we train, and how we create the conditions for regulation, recovery, and growth—for both practitioners and clients.
T – Trigger Recognition
For individuals who have spent most (or all) of their lives in survival mode, triggers are rarely obvious. Often, they are subtle, implicit, and automatic. Someone may find themselves suddenly overwhelmed, shut down, or in conflict—without a clear reason why.
At A Positive Start, we recognise that when someone is triggered, they are no longer anchored in their body. They’re dysregulated. And because they’ve never had the experience of their needs being named, validated, or met, they may not know what they need, or how to meet those needs.
This state of being unanchored often drives people to seek comfort externally—through food, alcohol, cigarettes, medication, or other temporary soothers. These offer short-term relief, but not safety. As Dr. Wayne Dyer famously put it, it’s like losing your keys in the house and looking for them outside. You won’t find what you need in the wrong places.
To truly regulate, we need co-regulation—which leads us to the next step.
R – Reassurance
When someone is dysregulated, they need another person’s nervous system to help them settle. This is how we learn to regulate—through co-regulation first, then self-regulation later. It’s not a flaw. It’s how humans are wired.
Reassurance is a powerful tool. Words like “You’re safe here,” or “I’m with you,” can soothe the chaos in someone’s system. Conversely, language like “Pull yourself together” or “You’re just attention-seeking” deepens dysregulation and reinforces shame.
And this is key: what may appear as attention-seeking is, in fact, connection-seeking. From a survival state, the nervous system is searching for safety. Reassurance is the answer. It restores co-regulation, it anchors, and it calms.
U – Understanding
True trauma-informed practice requires understanding—not only of what trauma is, but what it feels like. When we understand the nervous system states—fight, flight, freeze, fawn—we can respond with compassion instead of judgement, curiosity instead of control.
Sadly, many institutions (including schools) still default to punitive measures. But punishment retraumatises those with complex trauma. It reinforces the very beliefs trauma planted: “I’m bad,” “I don’t matter,” “There’s something wrong with me.”
Instead, we need to see the unmet need beneath the behaviour. Understanding creates connection. Connection creates calm.
S – Safety
Safety is not just about the environment. It’s about how the environment feels. This is called Neuroception—our unconscious scanning of safety and threat. If someone senses incongruence, judgement, or inauthenticity, their body will not relax.
Safety is built through consistent compassion, reliable presence, and an atmosphere that feels emotionally safe. When someone feels seen, heard, and not judged—they can start to trust.
T – Truth
Without truth, there can be no trust. And without trust, no safety. And without safety, no healing.
Truth here means congruence. Genuineness. Transparency. It means that the practitioner shows up authentically—not perfectly, but present. Because healing requires a relationship that feels real.
At A Positive Start, all our practitioners and therapists are first taught how to recognise when they are dysregulated. They learn how to regulate themselves before supporting others. This is essential, because TRUST only works when the person leading is regulated.
From TRUST to RAPPORT: The Next Step in Healing
Once we can offer TRUST, we can begin to cultivate RAPPORT—not just with others, but within ourselves. At A Positive Start, we say:
Healing begins with self-care. And self-care starts within.
Here’s how we guide people through RAPPORT:
R – Recognition
We start by recognising what’s happening in our nervous system. Are we calm, overwhelmed, shutting down? Can we name the state we’re in? Recognition is the foundation of self-awareness.
A – Awareness
This goes deeper—becoming aware of our patterns, our triggers, our protective parts, and the stories we’ve carried. Awareness builds the bridge between experience and understanding.
P – Process
We can’t bypass the feelings—we must move through them. In this stage, we begin to feel, name, and process what’s been held in the body for too long.
P – Practice
Healing is not a one-off insight. It’s a daily practice. Breathwork, grounding, journaling, mindful movement, compassionate self-talk—all become part of our regulation toolkit.
O – Observe
We begin to notice changes in our responses, our thoughts, and our nervous system. We become the compassionate observer of our inner world, rather than the judge.
R – Reflect
We take time to reflect on what’s working, what we’ve learned, and how far we’ve come. Reflection solidifies growth.
T – Transformation
This is where the shift happens. Not that the past disappears—but our relationship with ourselves changes. We become less reactive, more regulated, more anchored in truth and safety.
Living the Practice
At A Positive Start CIC, we don’t just teach these frameworks. We live by them. TRUST and RAPPORT are woven into everything we do—our training, our workshops, our client care, and our team support.
Because people heal in safe spaces.
And safe spaces are built by people who are committed to self-awareness, congruence, and compassion.
If you’re a practitioner, educator, or someone supporting others:
Let this be your invitation to embody #TRUST.
To offer #RAPPORT.
To become the regulated, compassionate presence that makes healing possible.
Applied TRUST & RAPPORT Workshop
Learn how to create emotional safety - for others and for yourself
Written by Deborah J Crozier | Founder of A Positive Start CIC
Person-Centred Counsellor & Trauma-Informed Practitioner
Why People-Pleasing isn’t Always Politeness
Most people don't wake up deciding to abandon themselves. They learn to do it over time-because it was safer to appease than to upset, easier to please than to risk rejection.
This is called the fawn response. And it's not about kindness. It's about survival.
The fawn response is a trauma-informed term for a survival adaptation where a person automatically appeases, pleases, or accommodates others to stay emotionally or physically safe.
Coined and popularised by therapist Pete Walker in the context of Complex PTSR
(C-PTSR), fawning is not just 'being nice'-it's a deeply ingrained strategy often rooted in childhood relational trauma.
Children are hard wired to attach. When connection is conditional, inconsistent, or threatening, they adapt. If love came with strings attached, if calm depended on keeping someone else happy, or if emotional needs were met with criticism or withdrawal, the child may have learned: "I'll be OK if I make you OK."
That becomes the internal rulebook:
- Don't rock the boat.
- Don't ask for too much.
- Don't be a burden.
- Don't be angry, sad, or real.
- Just be easy, helpful, invisible- even if it costs you.
Fawning can look like:
- Chronic people-pleasing and over-apologising
- Difficulty saying no or setting boundaries
- Feeling guilty for having needs
- Hyper-attunement to others' emotions
- Suppressing your truth to avoid conflict
- Feeling 'liked' but not truly known
- Rescuing or fixing others, often at your own expense
Fawning isn't a personality trait - it's a learned defence mechanism. There’s a difference between politeness and fawning.
Politeness is rooted in choice and mutual respect, whereas fawning is rooted in fear and appeasement.
Politeness maintains self and others - Fawning abandons self to preserve connection.
Politeness allows boundaries - Fawning suppresses them to stay safe.
Fawning is often a blended nervous system state-a mixture of: -
Sympathetic arousal (urgency, hyper-vigilance) and Dorsal vagal shutdown (self-abandonment, loss of voice) with an attempt to engage the social engagement system (smiling, soothing others, appeasing).
It's a brilliant adaptation to early environments where being your full self wasn't safe.
Healing doesn't mean becoming selfish-it means becoming sovereign.
Here's how we begin:
1. Somatic Awareness: Notice when your body feels tight, small, breathless, or fake.
Ask: What do I really feel?
2. Safe Boundaries: Practice saying no in low-stakes environments.
Try: 'Let me get back to you.'
3. Inner Child Reassurance: Fawning often
comes from the child self.
Gently say: 'You don't have to shrink to be safe.'
4. Voice Work: Speak up, hum, or sing. It activates the ventral vagus nerve and supports regulation.
5. Relational Repatterning:
Seek relationships where your 'no' is honoured and your presence is valued.
In conclusion,
The fawn response is not a flaw-it's a wound. A strategy. A child's best attempt at love and safety.
Now, as adults, we get to update the story: 'I am allowed to take up space. I don't need to abandon myself to be loved.' And that's not selfish. That's sacred.
Abandonment: More Than Being Left Behind
There are some wounds we carry that don’t leave visible scars.
Abandonment is one of them.
It’s not always marked by a door slamming shut or someone walking away.
Sometimes, it’s the quiet absence in a room full of people.
The unanswered cry.
The parent who was there in body, but unreachable in spirit.
The moment you realised you had feelings no one could hold.
Abandonment isn’t just about who left.
It’s about who didn’t show up emotionally, who didn’t see you, who didn’t protect you.
And over time, that wound doesn’t just sit in the past—it weaves itself into the present, shaping how we love, how we cope, how we see ourselves.
If you’ve ever felt like you were “too much” or “not enough”…
If you’ve worked hard to earn love or acceptance…
If you’ve found yourself chasing connection or fleeing it before it can break again…
You are not alone.
This blog is a compassionate space to explore:
- What abandonment really is
- Why it’s so impactful
- How it can shape the nervous system and sense of self
- And most importantly—how it can be healed
You were never meant to carry this weight alone.
Let’s begin gently.
Abandonment isn’t always dramatic. Sometimes it’s quiet. Subtle. Repeating.
It’s a door that never opens again. A parent who was there, but never really with you. A friend who ghosts. A loved one who stays, but disconnects.
For many people, abandonment is not a one-time event—it’s a felt experience that becomes part of their inner landscape. Understanding it is the first step toward healing.
Abandonment is the experience of perceived or real disconnection from someone we depended on—emotionally, physically, or psychologically. It can happen in many ways:
- A parent leaves the family.
- A caregiver is emotionally unavailable or inconsistent.
- A loved one dies, and the child is left to manage grief alone.
- A friend or partner withdraws without explanation.
- A child is left to care for their own emotional needs, consistently.
Often, it’s not about someone walking out the door—it’s about someone not walking in emotionally.
A parent who feeds, clothes, and houses a child—but never asks how they’re feeling.
A partner who’s physically present, but unresponsive or indifferent to your pain.
A professional who labels you without listening, and in doing so, leaves you unseen.
These are all forms of abandonment—relational, emotional, and spiritual.
Abandonment wounds strike at the heart of our biology.
1. Attachment Theory
From birth, humans are wired for connection. According to Bowlby and Ainsworth, secure attachment builds when a caregiver is consistently available, attuned, and responsive.
When those needs aren’t met, children adapt. They may become avoidant, anxious, or disorganised in their attachment styles—carrying these patterns into adulthood.
2. The Nervous System
Abandonment activates the sympathetic nervous system (fight/flight) or dorsal vagal (freeze/shutdown) responses:
- Fight: Confrontation, control, anger, defensiveness
- Flight: Escape, avoidance, busyness, perfectionism,
- Freeze: Shut down emotionally, dissociate, numb.
- Fawn: Appeasement, people-pleasing, self-abandonment
Over time, this shapes neuroception—the brain’s unconscious scanning for danger. A person with abandonment trauma may perceive rejection even in safe relationships, not because they are irrational, but because their body has been trained to expect disconnection.
3. Cortisol & Brain Development
Children raised with chronic emotional neglect often have higher baseline cortisol levels, affecting brain areas like:
- Amygdala: Fear and emotional reactivity
- Hippocampus: Memory consolidation
- Prefrontal Cortex: Emotional regulation and reasoning
This means abandonment can literally shape the brain—but also that healing can reshape it too (thanks to Neuroplasticity).
People with unresolved abandonment trauma may experience:
- Chronic fear of rejection or not being “good enough”
- Anxiety when someone pulls away or is silent
- Difficulty trusting others’ intentions
- People-pleasing, over-giving, or rescuing
- Sabotaging relationships before they end
- Deep shame or belief that they are “too much” or “not enough”
Because abandonment is often preverbal or accumulative, it’s stored somatically. The body becomes the holder of the wound:
- A tightening in the chest when someone withdraws
- A sinking feeling in the stomach when ignored
- A sudden urge to run, argue, or shut down
- Feelings of worthlessness that don’t match your logic
This is why healing must go beyond talking—into the body, into regulation, into safe relational experiences that slowly rewrite the story.
How We Begin to Heal?
- Name the wound. Recognise where abandonment shows up in your life now—and where it began.
- Regulate the nervous system. Practices like EFT, breathwork, orienting, or somatic self-touch can soothe the internal alarm.
- Build safe connection. Choose relationships (therapeutic or personal) where your presence is welcomed and your absence is noticed.
- Reparent the abandoned parts. Speak to the child within you as the parent you needed. Offer presence, not perfection.
- Update the story. You were never too much. You were never unlovable. You were responding to the ache of being left without a map.
Abandonment is not a flaw in you. It’s a fracture in the foundation of safety—and fractures can heal.
The younger you that was left behind still waits—not for the person who left, but for you.
To see her. To hold her. To whisper:
“You are safe now. You are never alone again. I’m staying.”
See the Human
Thirty years ago, I was a statistic. A survivor of domestic violence. A mother judged as too damaged to recover. A woman professionals expected would fail—and whose children were predicted to follow suit.
They were wrong.
Today, my children are thriving adults: graduates, home-owners, parents, partners, professionals. Societies measure of success. Good people, safe, healthy with secure lives. Empathic, compassionate regulated humans mindful of the impact they have on others and the world around them - their nervous systems mostly in a Ventral state - my measure of success. Yet, according to the system, we should still be 'in it.' But we’re not—and haven’t been for decades.
Why? Because we had space to heal. We had truth, openness, and a determination to rewrite our story. But we also had to fight for that. And too many still do.
I speak out to break the stereotypes. To challenge the mask. To dismantle the outdated, shame-based sayings like “don’t air your dirty laundry in public” or “don’t overshare.” These phrases were never about protection—they were about silence. About control. About keeping the truth hidden to protect reputations, not people.
Speaking out is not oversharing. It’s reclaiming. It’s refusing to carry shame that never belonged to us in the first place. It’s saying: I lived through this. I survived this. And I will not be quiet about it.
Because silence serves the abuser. Truth sets us—and others—free.
What’s Missing in Domestic Violence Support?
As a trauma-informed practitioner, I work with people who’ve experienced what I did. And I see a repeating pattern: the system sees the behaviour, not the human. A mother who stays is labelled weak or incompetent. A father who shuts down is deemed neglectful. Children are removed from homes not because they are unsafe, but because their parent is traumatised.
But trauma doesn’t make someone unfit to love. It doesn’t erase their bond with their child.
We must begin asking:
- What’s happening *within* the individual?
- What’s going on in their nervous system?
- What survival strategies helped them stay alive, even if from the outside it looks like passivity?
- What part of their story has been choice—and what part has been outwith their control?
And most importantly—who would ‘choose’ violence?
Abusers manipulate. They fool victims. And they often fool the very systems and those employed to serve in them, designed to protect those victims.
That’s not weakness. That’s psychological warfare.
When victims stay, it’s not because they’re blind—it’s because they’ve been systematically broken down, gaslit, isolated, and emotionally hijacked. And still, many get out. Still, they rise. And that deserves recognition, not criticism.
The Quiet Dysregulation of Professionals
Here's a difficult truth: I know social workers, support workers who are dysregulated, silently suffering behind closed doors. Burned out. Pressured. Grieving. Exhausted. And I understand why—they are working in a system that doesn’t make space for their wellbeing either.
But here's the danger: two dysregulated adults—one professional, one victim—do not create safety. They create chaos. Fear. Mistrust.
So we must ask:
How do professionals manage their own nervous systems?
How do they know whether their decision is being made from regulation or reactivity?
We can’t afford to ignore this. The cost is too high—for families, for children, and for the professionals themselves.
What the System Predicted for Us… and the Truth
According to the projections made by professionals back then, my children and I should still be in the system. By their standards, our trajectory was bleak. We were expected to fail.
But here's the reality:
- My children are now fit, healthy, successful adults.
- They’ve graduated university, hold secure jobs (one runs their own business), and live in safe, stable homes.
- They are in healthy relationships, free from addiction, criminal activity, or the trauma cycles we were expected to repeat.
- They are kind, thoughtful individuals who contribute positively to society.
I am incredibly proud of them.
We didn’t stay in the system. We moved away from the abusive person—almost three years later than we could have, because the courts forced continued contact with the abuser. But when that ended, I focused entirely on their wellbeing. We talked openly. I took responsibility for my own healing and safety. And we rose.
The Prevention Paradox
It’s interesting to me that when I first applied for funding to support prevention, I was told, “We don’t fund prevention.”
Let that sink in.
We don’t fund preventing trauma.
We wait until people are in crisis, broken, or in danger—and then we pour money into emergency responses.
It’s also interesting how, when you create a prevention-based action plan—like A Positive Start—you’re told that you can’t prove it worked.
You’re told that the positive outcome might have happened anyway, so you can’t claim credit for the transformation you supported.
And yet, no one ever questions whether a child removed from their parent might have been fine if we’d offered the right support instead.
No one challenges whether punitive responses are effective—only prevention.
Isn’t it a shame those same theories of “we can’t prove what didn’t happen” aren’t applied at the other end?
Prevention gets interrogated. Punishment gets assumed effective.
We need to flip that logic—before more families are harmed.
It was the same story when we recently applied for funding for our SPACES Project—Separated Parent And Child Emotional Support.
We were turned down.
Why? Because one of the panel members also sat on the Children’s Panel and felt it “wasn’t appropriate” to support parents whose children had been removed.
Let that sink in.
As far as they were concerned, if your child was removed, then it was for good reason. Case closed.
Essentially:
“We’re right. You deserved it. Now suffer in silence.”
How egotistical is that?
Where is the humanity?
Where is the understanding that trauma can cause behaviours that don’t define a person’s capacity for love, growth, or redemption?
If we truly believe in safeguarding children, then we must also believe in supporting parents—especially those willing to do the work, face the truth, and rebuild.
Otherwise, we’re just perpetuating pain and calling it justice.
They weren’t able to see that they might be wrong.
Or—even if they were right—that suffering still occurs.
And that suffering, left unsupported, only perpetuates the very issues we claim to want to solve.
When a parent loses a child—whatever the reason—they don’t stop being human. They don’t stop needing understanding, healing, or help.
To deny them support isn’t protective—it’s punitive.
And punishment, without compassion, never leads to change. It just adds another layer of trauma.
If we truly care about protecting children, we need to care just as much about healing the people they came from.
The Cost of Getting It Wrong
Let’s talk about the cost of all this—emotionally and financially.
The emotional toll on families wrongly judged, children separated without cause, and parents labelled rather than supported is immeasurable.
But there are financial consequences too: repeated police involvement, court proceedings, supervised contact arrangements, welfare officers, social worker interventions, housing teams, and more. My family was rehoused out of area for our safety—an enormous cost in itself, rather than removing one abusive person, they relocated the victims and then shared our new address openly in court in front of the perpetrator, rendering the move entirely pointless.
Why it Happens Again
To be clear, my children were never going to be removed from my care. I had already left the situation before services became involved. It may have been a different story if I hadn’t taken a different route.
If, like many survivors of domestic violence I had returned to that abusive partner or found myself in another abusive relationship, it wouldn’t have been because I didn’t want better. It would have been because of how trauma works.
Research shows that when we’ve lived in survival mode, we often mistake familiarity for safety—not because it’s safe, but because our nervous system has been wired to expect the unpredictable.
When you don’t truly know what safety feels like in the body, you’re not necessarily drawn to peace—you’re drawn to what you know.
And often, without conscious awareness, the body tries to complete an arousal cycle that was never resolved.
This can lead survivors to unknowingly repeat patterns—not out of weakness, but out of the nervous system’s attempt to finish what it started.
This isn’t failure. It’s a biological survival response in need of understanding—not judgement.
A trauma-informed approach rooted in lived experience isn’t just more compassionate—it’s far more cost-effective. It could save millions in public funds, while helping families heal instead of break.
Lived Experience, Labels, and Curiosity
They told me I was 'farthest from the labour market.' That I might never fully recover. That my children were 'at risk.'
None of it came true.
What they didn’t see was that I was also deeply capable. Reflective. Committed to healing. Determined to break the trauma cycle. I took my recovery into my own hands—and what emerged became ‘A Positive Start - initially, it was our plan for a positive start - that eventually became a community interest company committed to trauma-informed education and relational safety.
I chose curiosity over labels. I got curious about what my body was holding, what my story was saying, and what healing might look like if I gave myself permission to feel instead of fear.
Reflections on Judgement and Power
“People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
That’s what comes to mind when I think back to some of the professionals who sat in judgment over me.
Those who assumed they understood me based on paperwork, not presence.
Those who overlooked my strength, but also failed to grasp the danger I was facing—until it was too late.
One of them worked in a “secure” supervised visitation facility.
The place where my child was abducted—right out from under their watch.
They underestimated my abuser.
They didn’t listen.
They dismissed the severity of the threat, because it didn’t fit their framework.
But even more so—they underestimated me.
They imagined I was “less than” because I was in a traumatising situation.
They were wrong.
I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t incapable.
I was oppressed. I was traumatised. And still, I was doing everything I could to protect my children.
Being traumatised is not the same as being unsafe.
Being abused is not the same as being unfit.
And surviving violence does not make you less—it often means you’ve had to become more than anyone should ever have to be.
A Sobering Reminder
Everything I’ve described—the judgement, the labelling, the assessments, the forced rehoming, the emotional scrutiny—
was reserved for me. The victim.
I was the one under the microscope. I was the one expected to prove my worthiness as a parent, a human, a survivor.
And the perpetrator?
He walked away.
Unaffected. Untouched by the same systems that dissected me.
Free to continue the performance, the manipulation, the abuse—often enabled by the very structures meant to protect.
This is the injustice so many survivors face.
We are left to clean up the mess, carry the blame, and rebuild from the ruins—while those who caused the harm are rarely held to account in the same way.
What Needs to Change
We need to stop treating trauma as a problem to be managed, and start treating it as a story to be understood.
Let’s build:
- A new trauma-informed training initiative for social workers and safeguarding teams.
- Honest conversations about dysregulation in professionals.
- Assessments that prioritise attachment, emotional context, and support, not just risk.
And let’s bring lived experience into the conversation—not as an afterthought, but as a guide.
Final Thought
If we want to change lives, we have to change how we see them.
Start with compassion. Start with connection. Start by seeing the human behind the behaviour.
Thirty years ago, I didn’t need judgment. I needed understanding, compassion, and empathy.
I needed someone to recognise what it took to survive.
To acknowledge that I had got myself and my children to safety.
To respect that I was still standing—still living—even when someone had tried to end me.
I didn’t need judgement.
I needed to be seen.
That’s why I do this work now. Because understanding can change a life—and sometimes, that life goes on to help thousands more.
#TraumaInformed #DomesticViolence #SocialWork #LivedExperience #APositiveStart #Safeguarding #CompassionateCare #Reform