It’s easy to say the right things.

“Inclusive.”

“Person-centred.”

“Trauma-informed.”

These words are everywhere—in training manuals, policies, funding bids, and introductory slides.

But saying the right thing isn’t the same as living it.

When someone raises a concern, gives feedback, or reaches out with lived experience, the responses often sound like this:

“We’re really busy.”

“We’re doing our best.”

“You misunderstood.”

“You should have followed up.”

“You could have done more.”

That last one is particularly revealing.

It subtly shifts the responsibility back onto the person who had already made the effort. It reframes a lack of response as a lack of effort—on their part.

But when you claim to be inclusive or trauma-informed, the burden doesn’t fall on the most vulnerable to keep pushing for your attention.

Inclusion doesn’t mean “chase me.” It means “we see you.”

Incongruence Is a Safety Issue

For trauma survivors, inconsistency between words and actions isn’t just disappointing—it can be deeply destabilising.

It mirrors earlier experiences where people said all the right things but failed to follow through. Where safety was promised but not delivered. Where connection was conditional, performative, or superficial.

This kind of relational rupture—especially from services or professionals claiming to be trauma-informed—can reinforce beliefs like:

  • “People don’t mean what they say.”
  • “I was right not to trust.”
  • “It’s not safe to ask for help.”

These aren’t just thoughts. They are nervous system responses. They shape the way people relate to others—and to themselves.

It’s pointless doing the worksheet, if the learning isn’t applied!

Being trauma-informed isn’t about printing posters, doing a one-off CPD session, or including buzzwords in reports.

It’s about:

  • Reflection: How does what I do impact those I support?
  • Responsiveness: Am I open to feedback, or am I defending my image?
  • Repair: When something goes wrong, do I show up or shut down?

If your trauma-informed practice begins and ends with paperwork, it isn’t trauma-informed. It’s performance.

Calling out the mismatch between words and actions is never easy—especially for those with lived experience of trauma. It takes courage to speak up when something doesn’t feel aligned.

But instead of responding with reflection, the default is often defence.

Rather than examine the gap, the system closes ranks.

And the person who spoke up becomes the problem.

“She’s difficult.”

“She’s too intense.”

“She’s being unprofessional.”

“She’s arrogant.”

“She’s always got an issue with something.”

These aren’t objective reflections—they’re projections.

They come from discomfort. From a need to protect image over integrity. From an inability—or unwillingness—to sit with the truth that something might need to change.

This is a subtle form of victim blaming.

It puts the emotional cost back on the person holding up the mirror.

And when that person is a trauma survivor, it reinforces every old story about being “too much,” “not worth it,” or “hard to love.”

The irony is painful: the very practices that claim to protect people end up pathologising them when they speak truth to power.

Doing the worksheet and putting it back in the drawer isn’t enough.

If you’re not adapting, developing, and growing—it’s just lip service.

Say What You Mean. Mean What You Say!.

Being person-centred means responding to the person—not just their file.

Being inclusive means making space even when it’s uncomfortable.

Being trauma-informed means being willing to look inward, not just outward.

It’s not about perfection. It’s about congruence.

Because when actions don’t match words, it doesn’t just erode trust—it can deepen harm.
So in a world full of statements, be someone of substance.

Say what you mean. Mean what you say.

And if you fall short—repair, don’t retreat.