Tags

  • Published on

    Trauma, Morals, and Inauthenticity

    ACE complex trauma CPT dysfunctional family morals trauma
    Written by Quinn Landes, LMHC on April 21, 2026
    In this article, we'll explore how complex trauma (C-PTSD) from repeated traumas and living in “survival mode” reshapes your personality, behavior, and physical health. We'll look at the “moral cost of survival” (including lying, people-pleasing, and avoidance) and how to distinguish your authentic self from trauma-driven adaptations. You'll also learn practical tools for reclaiming authenticity, including developing a personal moral code, using self-compassion as an antidote to shame, and understanding how past trauma interferes with genuine relationships.

    Trauma and the Loss of the Self

    Even after a significant single-incident trauma, most people’s symptoms resolve naturally. When they don’t, specialized psychotherapy can help facilitate the process of integration, desensitization, and post-traumatic growth and resiliency. But when there’s been multiple traumas, or an extended period of having to live in “survival mode”, additional complications emerge. That’s what “complex trauma” or “Complex-PTSD” is. Besides the ordinary post-traumatic symptoms (intrusive memories/”flashbacks”, frequent nightmares, and avoidance), the repeated traumas provide enough reinforcement to change the individual’s view and expectations of themselves, others, and the world. This results in long-term changes of personality, behavior, and even health outcomes.

    Trauma Isn't Abnormal, but It Has Significant Impact

    The Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) questionnaire is a yes/no list of 10 items representing traumatic childhood experiences. The number of “yes” responses are added up to get a score of 0-10. Depending on the study being referenced, in the US, it’s estimated that between 76.1% and 80.5% of adolescents younger than 18 have experienced at least 1 ACE. Research consistently shows that experiencing 4 or more ACEs creates a significant "dose-response" jump in health risks. Compared to those with 0 ACEs, adults with 4 or more ACEs are:
    • 12 times more likely to attempt suicide
    • 7 times more likely to become alcoholic
    • 4-6 times more likely to have depression
    • 5.9 times more likely to experience frequent poor mental health
    • 4.4 times more likely to have COPD
    • 3.7 times more likely to have frequent poor physical health
    • 2.9 times more likely to have arthritis
    • 2.8 times more likely to have asthma
    • 2.6 times more likely to have cardiovascular disease
    • 2.2 times more likely to have chronic kidney disease
    • 1.6 times more likely to have any kind of cancer
    • 1.5 times more likely to have diabetes
    ​The likely link between ACEs and bad health outcomes is the increased prevalence of risk factors that these adults use to cope, self-medicate, or are otherwise normalized to in environments where ACEs are more likely. Compared to those with 0 ACEs, adults with 4 or more ACEs are:
    • ​4.7 times more likely to be a current marijuana user
    • 3.99 times more likely to engage in high-risk HIV behavior
    • 3.1 times more likely to be a current smoker
    • 1.4 times more likely to engage in binge drinking​
    Having a high ACE score (6 or above) is associated with a life expectancy up to 20 years shorter than having an ACE score of 0.
    Source: Original CDC-Kaiser ACE Study (1998) and subsequent BRFSS population studies (2019-2022)

    The Moral Cost of Survival

    The altered views and expectations of oneself, of others, and of the world that is caused by repeated or sustained traumas teach a person to always be in “survival mode”. The repeatedly traumatized individual has a nervous system that has been programmed to constantly expect danger. They experience fear of authority figures, or the unknown, and of making mistakes. They can often feel like they’re “too much” or “not enough”. They are hypervigilant and look for the exits of every room they enter, and imagine attacks, disasters, and emergencies that might happen. They try to read others’ moods to determine if they’ve angered, disappointed, or annoyed them out of fear of rejection or abuse.
    Out of that fear, or need to compensate for a perceived shortcoming, a person living in survival mode will experience involuntary acts of aggression or escape. The choices they make in response to their world—fight, flight, freeze, and please—are attempts to establish safety. For example, lying and concealing information or activities, even when there’s no potential gain or loss, feels normal and necessary. When we are acting from a place of survival, it becomes very difficult to consistently act from a place of values, morals, integrity, or self-actualization.

    Reclaiming Authenticity

    With single-incident PTSD, the problem, put simply, is that the traumatic experience was not filed away correctly as a memory. As a consequence, when something reminds a person with PTSD of the experience, the body thinks that the experience is happening again. The specialized psychotherapies used to heal trauma commonly involve the integration of that experience into a functional memory, and desensitization to its characteristic elements. With complex PTSD, while those same processes may apply, there is the additional task of teasing apart what is the person’s authentic self and what is the survival adaptations they have taken on. Each one can feel like a distinct mode of existence that often conflicts with each other.
    Most people I’ve worked with, including myself in my own recovery work, have spent so much time figuring out how to feel safe and how to handle the perceived threats of the world, they never stopped to really develop their personal code, morals, and values. They know what feels good or what’s technically “correct” in a given situation, but not what they need to do to be uniquely themselves. What would you enter danger, stand against fear, or take personal loss for? Consider the difference between the morals you live by, which come from within, and the ethics you live by, which come from others. How are they the same or different? If you have a code or set of morals that you live by, reflect on them now. If you’ve yet to develop them, really consider what they might be. When I first encountered this challenge to myself, it took me over a year before I found myself able to confidently answer it. What I discovered is that the fear, danger, or loss that your code will ask you to stand against is almost exclusively yourself. Your pride, your dignity, your anger and resentment, your cravings and desires... Those are the things that you reclaim yourself from. Making the decision to act in integrity with your code, morals, and values is self-actualization. That is your authentic self in praxis. Remember: you are not your thoughts, your feelings, your body, or your desires; you are the most yourself when making decisions from a place of integrity with your values.
    The decisions you make from a place of survival, for better or worse, are not you. Or more specifically, those decisions may not reflect your deeper values or sense of self. That can mean you've yet to live a day as yourself and it also means that you aren’t defined by the things you had to do to get by. It can be valid to grieve for the time lost to living in survival mode, or to regret the impact that your survival decisions made on others, but that loss and remorse are a part of your journey: if you’re feeling guilt, then when you finally get to be yourself, you can take action and find closure by authentically making amends. If you’re feeling shame, we’ve got something for that too.

    The Antidote to Shame

    I’ve heard it said that the antidote to guilt is action and the antidote to shame is self-compassion. (“Guilt” is feeling bad about what you’ve done and “shame” is feeling bad about what you are.) In the area of self-compassion, I draw heavily from the work of Dr. Kristin Neff. I consider her one of the primary authorities on the use of self-compassion, and I consider self-compassion a powerful tool in the treatment of complex trauma (AKA “Complex PTSD” or “C-PTSD”). When I’m being clinical, like while writing a treatment plan or a progress note, I describe self-compassion as a cognitive restructuring tool for identifying and correcting cognitive distortions. I love how “psy-entific” that sounds, especially because it’s true. Here are the three main facets as I personally tend to describe them:
    1. ​Kindness vs Judgement: This is about acknowledging that failures, difficulties, and hardships are inevitable. However, this isn’t about blaming the universe and letting yourself off the hook—you can still be directly personally responsible for a bad outcome. The key here is kindness toward yourself despite the bad outcome. You can feel bad about the outcome, but don’t use it as a way to judge, label, categorize, or otherwise describe yourself. It’s something that happened or it’s something you did but it’s not something you are.
    2. Humanity vs Isolation: This is about looking at whether this is actually a “me” thing or if other people feel this way too. When we over-personalize our flaws and bad outcomes, it’s isolating and makes us feel like there’s something wrong with us. When we see these things as a part of life and the universal human experience, it stops being about something we are and instead becomes something that is.
    3. Mindfulness vs Over-Identification. This one’s my favorite. I think it’s because of how easily it can be applied. When we’re feeling shame, we’re feeling bad about ourselves. If we were to turn that feeling into a thought, it might be something like “I’m a terrible person”.*  We can apply self-compassion to “I’m a terrible person” by changing it to “I feel like a terrible person right now.” That makes a couple important changes. By acknowledging that it’s a feeling (or thought) instead of a reality, it places it outside of ourselves as opposed to sitting inside the feeling and viewing the world through its filter. And by putting it on a timeline (“right now”), it makes it mortal in that it implies that this is something that wasn’t happening before and it’s something that has an end; it’s something you’re passing through, not something that you are.
    *In some other textbook approaches, the fix might be something like stopping that thought and replacing it with a positive contradiction like “I’m fine” or “I’m a good person” and then coming up with 3-5 pieces of evidence to support that contradiction. That does work, but there’s a time and place for it. At the start of treatment, I find that that approach doesn’t work for most clients. In those cases, I think the problem is that we can’t change the cognition because it isn’t a cognition. When the positive contradiction doesn’t work, it’s because we’re thinking our feelings instead of feeling our feelings. And feelings are like small children; they thrive on positive attention and acknowledgement. So instead, we’re going to acknowledge the feeling and accept it for what it is, but we’re going to remove the shame.
    If you find it useful, let self-compassion be the way you test your thoughts: shame comes from your survival mode and self-compassion comes from your authentic self. If you’re unsure which of those parts of yourself a thought, feeling, or desire is coming from, run it through your self-compassion filter.

    Authenticity in Relationships

    You are only authentic and self-actualized while you are acting authentically and from integrity with your personal code. Being is an active process, not a passive state.
    ​Living as your authentic self—that is, finding your way out of survival mode—is critical in being able to establish and maintain healthy relationships. Humans are deeply social creatures, so authenticity is critical for maintaining one’s overall wellness through support, connection, and networking.
    When you are in a relationship, your survival mode creates behaviors that are popularly called “codependency”. Two people in survival mode might find compatibility in their protective adaptations, (for example, “I can fix them”), but that compatibility is in their protections, not in their authentic selves. The perks, benefits, and mutual enablement of those relationships become their basis. But if you strip away the perks and benefits of any close, long-term relationship, what it really is at its core is a commitment to conflict resolution. The avoidance of conflict, which is the very nature of survival mode, prevents authentic connection.

    Within and Without

    In pursuing authenticity, you are pursuing a healthy relationship with yourself. That relationship with yourself—that commitment to constructive and affirming conflict resolution—is the first healthy relationship that needs to be in place for any other healthy relationships to work out. “It works if you work it, so work it; you’re worth it!”
  • Published on

    What Is Hypervigilance? Symptoms, Causes, and How to Calm Your Nervous System

    coping skill hypervigilance PTSD trauma
    Written by Quinn Landes, LMHC on March 18, 2026
    In this article, we'll explore what hypervigilance actually is, where it happens, why your nervous system gets stuck in survival mode, the difference between "Big T" and "Little T" trauma, and—most importantly—practical tools you can use right now to start calming your nervous system.

    What is Hypervigilance?

    ​Hypervigilance is a state of being over-alert for threats, dangers, and risks in your environment and circumstances. It’s a symptom of a dysregulated nervous system and, in my line of work, a tell-tale sign of unresolved past trauma. Hypervigilance can look like always taking note of where exits are, never sitting or standing with your back to open spaces, excessively asking friends “how are you?” or “are you mad?”, constantly reading others’ body language for signs of anger or disapproval, or dissecting text messages for similar clues. There are countless ways hypervigilance can express itself in your thoughts, feelings, and actions. This happens (even when you logically know better) when your nervous system is stuck in “survival mode”, also known as “fight-or-flight” or a “sympathetic nervous system”.
    In short, when we experience a shocking, overwhelming event that violates our sense of safety, stability, and control, our body remembers. This is where you see an important distinction between what I call the “wise part” of your brain and the “fast part” of your brain. The “wise part” of your brain is the prefrontal cortex. It allows mindful awareness, judgement, assessment, and metacognition (your thoughts about your thoughts). The “wise part” is the most “you” you. The “fast part” is the limbic system. It’s the fight-or-flight part of your brain. The fast part’s job is to interpret the world around you and shift your body into action mode if it detects potential risk or danger.
    The problem with the “fast part” of your brain is that it’s not designed to be good at its job; it’s designed to be fast. If you turn a corner and see a scary monster, the signal sent from your sensory organs like your eyes and ears passes through the limbic system (the “fast part”) before it gets to the prefrontal cortex (the wise part”). In fact, the limbic system gets it before most parts of your brain, so your body begins shifting into fight-or-flight mode before you consciously realize you see the monster. It’s that fast. In a perfect world, the “wise part” of your brain then assesses the situation and sees that no, that’s not a scary monster, it’s a trash bag with a weird shadow. Then we begin to calm ourselves, our body shifts out of fight-or-flight and back into rest-and-digest, adrenaline is taken out of the system by the liver and kidneys, and a little cortisol (the stress hormone) remains “just in case” because your body loves you very much and wants you to be safe (even if it’s a bit of a “helicopter” at times). Otherwise you move on with your day, maybe remembering your “scary monster” encounter with a sensible chuckle.
    Hypervigilance enters the picture when the fast part of the brain is freaking out about too many things too often and the wise part isn’t able to keep up. That’s the sign of trauma I mentioned. So let’s say you turn the corner and you really do encounter a scary, dangerous monster. It attacks, and you survive the encounter. When you think back about the incident, your memory is a blur of terror and powerlessness; of claws, fur, teeth, hot breath, and the monster’s green t-shirt. Some time goes by, and you don’t see the monster again, but the fast parts of your brain remember. So now, when you see someone in a green t-shirt, your body shifts into fight-or-flight. You feel actual fear and threat. Hypervigilance is constantly living in reaction to monsters that aren’t there. Physiologically, the fear is real, even if it’s irrational. That’s the dysfunction of the nervous system.

    What Causes Hypervigilance? How Trauma Affects the Brain

    ​This is where traumatic events come in. When we experience a dangerous event that violates our sense of safety, stability, and control to a degree that is shocking and overwhelming, part of our brain shuts down. In this situation, you may likely experience an alteration of consciousness and experience the event(s) seemingly from outside of your body, in slow motion, and/or while being frozen in a kind of thoughtless paralysis. When this happens, the “wise part” of your brain isn’t present to make sense of it, but other parts are. This is where the progression toward Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) would begin, but not always.

    How Trauma Gets Stored in the Body

    ​When you are about 8ish years old, your brain gains the ability to record memory narratively in a brain structure called the hippocampus, located in the temporal lobe. This type of memory is paired with language, and like language, forms a linear narrative (“First this happened, then this, then than, and finally this”). Before 8 years old, your brain records memory implicitly, in a non-linear, “visceral”, senses-based way. It’s less of a story and more of a snap-shot of sensation. This visceral, implicit memory is stored in the amygdala, a brain structure in the “fast part” of your brain responsible for emotional responses like fear, anxiety, and aggression. During a traumatic event, when the “wise part” of our brain checks out, the only part left to record the event is the implicit memory of the amygdala. That means that after the event has ended, and your “wise” brain comes back, the memory is only partially recorded. The amygdala remembers, but the hippocampus doesn’t. This has the effect of reminders and memories of the trauma causing your body to feel like it’s really happening again because your brain doesn’t have the hippocampus’ disclaimer of, “You’re safe; this is just a memory”. You’re brain is no longer working as a unified unit. This is why one of the core tasks of recovering from trauma is integration.

    Post-traumatic Stress

    ​After the trauma effects I mentioned, a person may experience nightmares about the experience, “flashbacks” or invasive memories of it, and avoidance behaviors such as avoiding certain people, areas, or other reminders of the experience. Several factors such as social connectedness (and others) may determine what happens next. Most of the time, people heal on their own and the symptoms only last 4 days. For some, the symptoms might last a few more weeks, but if they continue to persist, a diagnosis like PTSD might apply. But the label matters less than understanding what’s happening in your nervous system and how to heal it. Repeated or long-term traumatic events add additional symptoms and effects that most clinicians know as “complex trauma”, though there isn’t a single, specific diagnosis for that. There are things to say on the matter but the nuances of the different clinical forms of post-traumatic stress (Acute Stress Disorder, PTSD, and complex-PTSD) are a discussion for another time.

    "Little T" Trauma

    ​Some people use the terms “Big T” and “Little T” trauma. “Big T” traumas are usually described as events like rape, war, natural disasters, deadly violence, and lifestyle upheaval like adoption and foster care. “Little T” traumas refer to events that are also distressing, but more common and less physically dangerous such as social rejection, emotional neglect, and growing up with family dysfunction.
    “Big T” and “Little T” can, in some ways, be helpful language, but overall, those labels are misleading and can hurt the general understanding of trauma. Those labels are detrimental to the field of mental health because the risk of trauma-related disorders and an event’s impact on a person’s life isn’t based on the supposed severity of the event but rather on the severity of the event’s impact on the person.
    I bring this up because hypervigilance and a dysregulated nervous system don’t have to come from PTSD. Overlooked, accumulative stress and traumas can create as big an impact on a person’s life and functioning as a single disastrous event. Big or small, dangerous or embarrassing, cumulative distressing experiences may lead to hypervigilance, especially if the process began in childhood.
    One of the most common problems I see in therapy is anxious adults who are afraid of mistakes, failure, and/or the unknown. I personally suspect that this happens in childhood when children get in trouble for something they didn’t know was wrong to do. When there’s clear, consistent, and well communicated rules with predictable rewards and consequences, a child has a system to experiment with and learn from. They learn power over their outcome and they see that it’s their actions that get them praise and punishment, not who they are personally. However, when they get in trouble unpredictably, it may lead to feeling like life is an unpredictable mine field. They constantly feel at risk for negative consequences because they have no way to tell the difference. Hypervigilance becomes one of their primary tools for safety.
    Those children grow into adults who likely have some form of control issues. Maybe they can’t stand feeling controlled or maybe they themselves are controlling. It’s easier to understand their emotional circumstances if you think of it as “safety” instead of “control”. People who grew up in unpredictable environments don’t feel safe and difficulty trusting themselves and others. Moving forward and growing past this requires a little change of perspective and a few tools along the way.

    Coping With a Dysregulated Nervous System

    ​Any coping or self-regulation skills you see online or read about in an article are not a treatment for trauma-related diagnoses. For the symptoms of PTSD and similar conditions, psychotherapy with a therapist with specific skills and training for treating trauma is the most effective. At bare minimum, just another human being is required for the healing process. I can’t say for certain why, but it requires a compassionate witness. My personal hunch is that humans are wired to be social creatures to such an extent that our communities themselves are a type of organism. When you injure your hand—a part of the larger organism—your hand sends pain signals to your brain. Now knowing that your hand is injured, you know to take care of it. I think humans might work the same way; when we’re injured, hurting, or otherwise compromised, we can’t start to feel closure until we’ve expressed it to someone else. I have a memory of being a child when I fell off my bike and scraped my knee. On the entirety of my kneecap, a big patch of skin was scraped off. It was the worse injury I had sustained so far. I felt pain, fear, and panic. I felt tears well up, the increased pressure in my head, throat, and chest. But I knew, in elementary-school-age terms, that I was fucked if I just broke down and sat there. So I got back on my bike and started riding it home, simultaneously finding out whether my leg still worked right or not. When I got home I ran inside and showed my mom the injury and told her what happened. That’s when I cried. That’s when I had the opportunity to give into the pain, fear, and grief. Much later in life, as a therapist, I heard that that was a common occurrence: children don’t cry until they have a witness. I think a human seeking a witness for their fear and pain is like a hand sending a pain signal to the brain. Just as the person needs to know about the hand, the family/community needs to know about the child.
    While not a curative treatment for a trauma disorder, below are coping skills for helping you deal with the symptoms of a dysregulated nervous system. If you are in treatment or will be getting into treatment later, these skills will help you self-regulate in a way that will keep your brain in the correct state for healing. They’re also good for just living a high-performance life in general, so they will continue to serve you through and beyond healing from trauma, fear, and an over-active nervous system.

    6 Coping Skills

    Slow, Deep Beathing

    ​We’re starting simple with this one because it addresses one of the first signs of fight-or-flight activation: the freeze response. People may subconsciously hold their breath when they become exclusively focused on something. A perceived threat in the environment easily summons this attention. The problem is that holding your breath may increase your tension and panic while diminishing your performance in forming a response. Here’s where this skill comes in:
    Breath in with your diaphragm, inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth. It’s better to breath deep and slow than fast and shallow. When this technique doesn’t work for people, it’s usually because they aren’t emphasizing their breath correctly. When you inhale, you won’t feel relaxed. It might actually make things a little worse because inhaling raises your heart rate. That’s why when you exhale, you want that out-breath to last a little longer than the inhale. Try breathing in for 5 seconds and breathing out for 7 seconds. Try holding your breath for 2 or 3 seconds each time you finish breathing in or out. However you time your breathing, notice how your body feels different during the exhale when it starts being a little longer than the inhale.

    The "Wet Noodle"

    ​I learned this technique as “the wet noodle”. This technique works really well because it interrupts the feedback loop of stress. I don’t view anxiety and stress as emotions, but they work just like emotions. Emotions are predominantly (if not entirely) physical sensations. For example, when we are happy, we smile. The physical sensation of smiling enhances our experience of being happy. The same thing happens with any other emotion and the same thing happens with stress.
    Take a moment so mentally scan your body. When we’re focused, it’s easy to forget we even have a body. So check yours out now and look for any squeezing, bracing, clenching, shaking, or tension, and release it. Let your skeleton hold you up and let your muscles melt into softness. Do you feel what happens to your stress level when you do that? If you’re like me when I was writing this, you didn’t even realize you were holding stress.
    It’s easiest to sit or lay comfortably when you’re first getting used to this technique, but you get familiar with it, you’ll be able to do it mid-conversation with someone if you feel any stress, fear, or tension rising. You might miss a couple seconds of what they’re saying while you focus on your body, but it’s less than you would have lost if you stayed braced in anxiety.
    If any particular muscle is being stubborn and won’t relax, clench it as hard as you can for 5 seconds and release it. If you practice regularly, 3 or 4 days of doing this should train the muscle to relax properly.
    A fun fact about this technique is that it’s impossible to be angry in a relaxed-muscle body. All around, this technique is a good way to keep you in the driver's seat when emotions try to hijack you. Just be prepared for it to feel unintuitive to do. Truth be told, many people like the feeling of anger. A tense body feels comforting when we’re emotional but it may not give you the results you want.

    The "Hip Square"

    ​I often teach this technique as a variation of the Wet Noodle. It usually comes up if someone has an injury or some other condition that prevents full body relaxation, but it probably deserves more respect than that. The best relaxation technique is the one you use most consistently. But if all things are equal in that regard, this technique is probably the best for its proven effectiveness.
    When you are sitting with good posture, notice where your “sit bones” are (aka, “ischial tuberosity”). Now notice where the hip bones above your thighs are (specifically, the anterior inferior iliac spine). You can mentally find them or physically touch them to create a touch memory of their location. In either case, picture them as the corners of a square. (It’s probably more of a trapezoid, but it’s squarish—just go with it.) Now without squeezing anything, try to move those corners away from each other to expand the square. Notice how it changes the way you feel. That’s the technique.
    Whether it’s the pelvic muscle group’s position in relation to the vagus nerve, or something else, no other muscle group in your body will give you full systemic relaxation like this. I don’t have much experience with yoga, but I’m told the “child pose”, which stretches this area, has powerful emotional effects for people with a history of trauma. I can’t support or refute this, but it’s interesting.

    Activated Peripheral Vision

    ​This technique is the only way I know how to “force” relaxation. When we become stressed, we enter fight-or-flight, and our body redirects blood flow away from the organs and into our muscles. Something similar happens in the brain. As a consequence, our vision becomes narrower. This technique is simple: widen your field of view.
    A way to learn to do this is to look straight ahead at a small point and really focus on it. Try to mentally block out anything else in your field of view. Now, without moving your eyes, widen your visual awareness and try to see what’s out to your side. If you can look straight ahead but still see the things next to you, you’re reactivated your peripheral vision. That’s a big deal when you’re stressed because your brain has to be physiologically relaxed in order to do that.
    As far back as I am aware, this technique was originally developed by Force Recon, the US Marines special forces. It was needed as a way to be calm enough to shoot accurately while in high stress situations. And you get to read about it in a therapist’s blog.

    Interoception & Neuroception

    ​The skills I’ve mentioned so far are relaxation skills for self-regulation. They move you out of “fight-or-flight” and into “rest-and-digest” (from a sympathetic nervous system to a parasympathetic nervous system). The following skills are a little different but are just as important to the coping and self-regulation processes. They are “interoception” and “neuroception”. Interoception is about detecting stress in the first place. Neuroception is about detecting whether that stress is needed. Interoception is body-to-brain and neuroception is brain-to-body.

    Interoception

    ​Interoception is your sense of what’s happening on the inside: are you hot, cold, hungry, tired, tense, slouched, in need of a bathroom break, stressed, happy, scared, etc.? People with a history of trauma (even “Little T” trauma) have poor interoception because their brains are always scanning the environment or circumstances for danger. They often feel too busy to consider their feelings and needs. People with neurodiversity such as Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) or Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) also tend to have poor interoception, but it can be said that neurodiversity in a neurotypical world is inherently traumatic.
    To “do” interoception, stop and take a moment to check in on your sensations. Feel your mood or emotion, feel your physical needs. If you notice a physical sensation but can’t quite name it, consider what sensation that feeling might describe. A burning stomach, a tight chest, a bouncing knee... Focus on the physical sensation and try feeling it before you trying to name it. With practice, you’ll get better and faster at it, and with practice, you will hopefully be doing it more and more often.

    Neuroception

    Neuroception is the ability to detect safety while perceiving threat. This is a hugely important skill for coping with hypervigilance and a dysregulated nervous system because the very problem is detecting threat everywhere all the time.
    To “do” neuroception is to do something of a critical analysis of the current scary/stressful/anxious situation. Think of it this way: are you completely and perfectly safe right now in this moment? Some people, when asked, might say “No, never! A car could come crashing in through the wall at any second.” But is there a car crashing through the wall? If not, then you are safe. A lot of people don’t like hearing this but even if a car is speeding toward you, you’re still safe in that moment. Even if you’re infected with a dangerous virus, you’re safe until that virus has spread enough to interrupt your vital functions. Fear is the fear of something real and present. Anxiety is the fear of something hypothetical.

    Finding Safety in the Space of a Heartbeat

    ​During my life, I’ve been in several types of martial arts classes. My first “weapon” class was a style of Japanese sword. I had a minor but life-changing insight in that class. We were learning to block and deflect an incoming sword attack from above, then counterattacking in the same motion. As the instructor drilled us, she wasn’t satisfied with us just superficially going through the motions—we had to wait for the opponent to really commit to the attack before we responded. That meant not moving to intercept the attack until the attack was already on its way. That was the first time I had been exposed to the idea of remaining calm while something dangerous was happening to me. That class helped me mastered that new form of self-control and its helped me stay calm during crises, replacing panic and reflect with calm observation in even the briefest moments of reaction.
    I’ve read a lot of books about martial arts—mostly around Japanese sword—and a common saying in its practice is, “soft body, hard mind”. The writers of the oldest of these books like “The Book of Five Rings” and “The Life-Giving Sword” have actually stood before people who were trying to end their life. They lived to write about what they’ve learned—why they lived to write their books and others didn’t—and the secret to safety is a body that isn’t overly tense and a mind that’s in the moment, and not in its worries.
    ​The one gift I would most want to be able to give to everyone in the world is the gift of feeling safe when they are safe. My education, training, and career experience has shown me that a lot of people don’t feel that way. For a lot of my life, even recently, I’m one of those people. But it’s an active, ongoing process and whether you’re “good” at it or have room for better consistency, having the tools and insight to feel differently can change your world. If you're one of those people too, I hope something in the article helps you calm your nervous system. It’s saved my life and ability to maintain relationships and I hope it saves someone else’s.

    Key Takeaways

    • Hypervigilance is your nervous system’s way of trying to protect you, but it can get stuck in overdrive.
    • Trauma is physiological, not a mindset. That’s why physical coping skills matter.
    • Healing trauma requires a compassionate witness; you’re not meant to be alone when you’re hurt.
    • Tools like slow breathing, muscle relaxation, and peripheral vision can help you self-regulate while you pursue deeper healing.
    "This article is for informational purposes only and is not a substitute for professional medical advice."