I’m not a neuroscientist. I don’t claim to have all the answers. But I know the dorsal space. I’ve lived there. I walk with others through it. And I believe it’s where the deepest suffering lives—quiet, hidden, and often misunderstood.
There’s a space inside the nervous system that isn’t often talked about in everyday life. It’s not the fight-or-flight response most of us recognise when we feel anxious or on edge. It’s something deeper—older, even. It’s the shutdown space. The collapse. The freeze.
In Polyvagal Theory, this is called the dorsal vagal state. It’s a survival mechanism that the body activates when escape or defence feels impossible. This is where we feel hopeless, helpless, and disconnected from life. It’s where the world becomes distant, unreal—and sometimes, unbearably silent.
I believe this is where life ends.
And I also believe—tentatively, and with deep concern—that this is where some of our most vulnerable young people are when they lose all hope and harm not only themselves, but sometimes others’.
Recently, my grandson told me his secondary school had gone into lockdown. A group of older children – who didn’t attend the school – had arrived with a weapon, reportedly looking for a pupil. The gun turned out not to be real, but the fear and chaos it caused were. The fear in my grandson’s voice stayed with me. I’ve been reflecting on that conversation ever since. What kind of pain leads a young person to act in a way that instils such fear? I can’t help but wonder whether they had been living in a state of shutdown – disconnected, unseen, and drowning in pain long before they ever picked up that weapon.
The Physiology of Giving Up
When someone enters the dorsal vagal state, they don’t just feel down—they disconnect. Their system numbs to protect them from pain. Words may no longer reach them. They may seem quiet, compliant, or “fine”—but inside, they are adrift.
I’ve seen this space in the people I support. I’ve felt it in my own body. It’s not just emotional—it’s biological. And in some, it can last for years.
If fight or flight is about survival through action, dorsal shutdown is about survival through disappearance.
Can Dorsal States Lead to Violence?
I ask this question carefully.
Much has been written about school shootings and mass violence. The focus is often on mental illness, extremism, or access to weapons. But what if the root is deeper—and starts with a long, lonely descent into shutdown?
What if a young person has lived in that dorsal space for too long—feeling invisible, unheard, unloved?
What if they’ve internalised the belief that nothing matters, not even their own life—or the lives of others?
I’m not saying every act of violence comes from dorsal collapse. But I believe some of the seeds are planted there. And if we can recognise the signs early, we may be able to reach someone before the suffering turns outward.
Many schools are not yet equipped to support dysregulated children, especially those living in dorsal states. Behaviour is often viewed through a disciplinary lens, and connection-seeking is mislabelled as attention-seeking. It’s hard to understand the world from a dorsal perspective if you’ve lived your whole life in the safety of ventral. But for some children, ventral connection isn’t familiar—it feels foreign or even unsafe. Their behaviours aren’t manipulative; they’re adaptive. Without this understanding, children in shutdown are often misunderstood, punished, or ignored—deepening their isolation and reinforcing the belief that they do not matter.
What Helps? Safe, Regulating Spaces
One of the ways we can respond is through the creation of safe, attuned, sensory-aware environments. At A Positive Start CIC, we call these spaces River Rooms.
These aren’t traditional classrooms or clinical rooms. They are warm, trauma-informed sanctuaries where children can:
• Rest without shame
• Regulate without pressure
• Reconnect at their own pace
In the River Room:
• Music and rhythm support nervous system settling
• Adults are calm, present, and emotionally available
• There is no demand to perform, only the invitation to feel safe
• Choice and agency are restored through small, gentle actions
We don’t rush people out of dorsal. We meet them there.
The Power of Being Seen
When someone is in dorsal, they don’t need fixing. They need witnessing. Softness. Time. And co-regulation—where a calm, grounded adult helps them feel safe in their body again.
Safety isn’t a concept. It’s a felt experience.
And when someone has lived in collapse, even the smallest sign of safety can be life-changing.
This is what the River Room offers—a relational, sensory, and embodied path back to life.
Final Thoughts
I know the dorsal space. I don’t need research to tell me it’s real—I see it in the slumped shoulders, the hollow eyes, the flat tone of voice that says, “I’ve already left, even if I’m still here.”
But I also believe we can return from that place.
We can help others return.
And it starts with creating spaces that don’t demand energy from the exhausted—but instead offer presence, warmth, and hope.
If you work with children and young people, I invite you to look beyond behaviour and ask: Where are they in their nervous system?
What might they need—not to perform or comply—but simply to be, and begin again?
https://www.news.cumbria.police.uk/news/four-arrested-following-incident-in-carlisle
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