Nervous System – Benjamin Fry

The Body Remembers What the Mind Might Forget – Healing Hidden Trauma

Benjamin Fry — Wed, 27 May 2026 10:37:00 +0000

There are things we carry that don’t have clear edges. You might not remember exactly what happened, or when it began, but something in you reacts anyway. A tightening in your chest. A sudden wave of anxiety. A need to withdraw, or to stay hyper-alert. It can feel confusing, like your body is telling a story your mind doesn’t quite have access to.

This is one of the central insights in trauma work, that not everything that shapes us is stored as a conscious memory. As Bessel van der Kolk writes, the body holds experiences in ways that words alone often cannot reach. Trauma isn’t just remembered, but it is lived, again and again, through sensation, emotion, and reaction.

The Nervous System Is Always Listening

Beneath our thoughts, there’s a quieter system constantly scanning the world. The nervous system is asking, moment by moment: Am I safe?

According to Stephen Porges, this process happens automatically. We don’t decide whether to feel safe, but our body decides for us, based on subtle cues such as tone of voice, facial expression or pace of movement.

When the system senses safety, we can connect, think clearly, and feel present. When it senses threat, everything shifts. We might move into fight or flight which can manifest into anxiety, urgency or irritability. Or, if things feel too overwhelming, we might shut down entirely, which can make us feel numb, distant or disconnected.

These responses are not signs that something is wrong with us. They are signs that our nervous system has learned something, and is trying to protect us.

When the Past Doesn’t Stay in the Past

Trauma doesn’t always come from one dramatic event. It can build slowly, through repeated experiences of not feeling safe, seen, or supported.

Over time, the nervous system adapts. It becomes quicker to detect danger, even where none exists. A look, a silence or a shift in tone can trigger reactions that feel immediate and intense.

As Peter Levine explains, trauma is less about what happened, and more about what got “stuck” in the body as a result. Energy that couldn’t be processed at the time doesn’t simply disappear. It stays and is held in patterns of tension, breath, and readiness.

This is why insight alone isn’t always enough. You can understand your past and still feel hijacked by it. The mind may know you’re safe, but the body hasn’t caught up yet, which can cause a lot of distress.

Healing Happens in the Body, Not Just the Mind

If trauma lives in the body, then healing has to involve the body too. This doesn’t mean dramatic reliving or pushing yourself to revisit painful experiences. In fact, the opposite is often more helpful such as gentle awareness and practising small but powerful shifts. This allows us to notice what’s happening inside ourselves without becoming overwhelmed..

This is where approaches grounded in the nervous system become so powerful. Rather than asking “What’s wrong with me?”, they ask, “What is my system trying to do right now?” Practitioners like Gabor Maté emphasise that many of our coping patterns, whether it’s overworking, withdrawing, or staying constantly busy, began as intelligent adaptations. They actually helped us survive.

Healing, then, isn’t about getting rid of these patterns. It’s about gently helping the body discover that it doesn’t need them in the same way anymore.

Co-Regulation: We Don’t Heal Alone

One of the most overlooked truths about healing is that we are not meant to do it in isolation. Our nervous systems are shaped in relationship, and they are soothed in relationship too.

Co-regulation is the process of one nervous system helping another settle. It might be as simple as sitting with someone who feels calm and grounded. Someone who listens without rushing, who doesn’t overwhelm or withdraw. In those moments, something subtle begins to shift. Breathing slows. Muscles soften. The body starts to receive a message it may not have trusted before: this is safe.

This is why therapy, friendship, and even small moments of genuine connection can be so powerful. Not because someone else fixes us, but because their presence gives our system something new to learn from.

Boundaries Create the Conditions for Safety

It’s difficult for a nervous system to relax if it doesn’t know where it stands. Boundaries help create that clarity. They tell the body that this is okay, and this is not. This is where I end, and where you begin. Without boundaries, everything can feel unpredictable. And unpredictability keeps the nervous system on edge.

Healthy boundaries aren’t about shutting people out. They’re about creating enough safety that connection becomes possible. When we can trust our own limits, the body has less reason to stay on high alert. In this sense, boundaries are not barriers, but are supports. They become important but quiet structures that allow the nervous system to settle.

A Slower, Kinder Way of Healing

There’s a temptation to want healing to be quick. To find the insight that unlocks everything, or the technique that makes it all go away. But trauma doesn’t work like that. And neither does healing. It’s slower. More subtle. Often almost invisible from the outside.

It might look like noticing your breath when you feel anxious. Pausing instead of reacting. Letting yourself stay present for a few seconds longer than you could before. These small moments matter. They are how the nervous system learns. Not through force, but through repetition. Through experience.

Over time, the body begins to recognise something new, that the present is not the same as the past.

Learning to Feel Safe Again

If trauma is the body holding on to what once felt overwhelming, then healing is the process of gently letting that grip loosen. Not by pushing it away, but by offering something different.

Moments of safety. Moments of connection. Moments where nothing bad happens, even though part of you expected it might. Gradually, the system recalibrates.

And what once felt automatic, manifesting in fear, shutdown, tension, becomes less immediate, less powerful. Not gone entirely, but no longer in control. The body doesn’t forget what happened. But it does learn something new. That it survived. And that, now, it might be safe to live differently.

References

van der Kolk, B. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. New York: Penguin Books. https://ia601604.us.archive.org/35/items/the-body-keeps-the-score-pdf/The-Body-Keeps-the-Score-PDF.pdf

Maté, G. (2018). The Myth of Normal: Trauma, Illness, and Healing in a Toxic Culture. Toronto: Knopf Canada.https://ia601504.us.archive.org/23/items/the-myth-of-normal-by-gabor-mate/The%20Myth%20of%20Normal%20by%20Gabor%20Mate.pdf

Porges, S. W. (2011). The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological Foundations of Emotions, Attachment, Communication, and Self-Regulation. New York: W.W. Norton & Company. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3490536/

Levine, P. A. (1997). Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma. Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books. https://archive.org/details/wakingtigerheali00levi

Your Nervous System Is Not the Enemy – Understanding Reactions in Relationships

Benjamin Fry — Tue, 07 Apr 2026 06:00:00 +0000

Relationships often reveal parts of us that we didn’t know were there. A small misunderstanding can suddenly escalate into anger, withdrawal, or deep anxiety. A partner’s silence might feel like rejection, and a critical comment can spark defensiveness that seems disproportionate to the moment.

Afterwards, many people feel confused or ashamed. Why did I react like that? Why couldn’t I stay calm?

But these reactions are rarely random. Beneath them lies a powerful biological system that’s working constantly to protect us: the nervous system. When we begin to understand how this system operates, particularly in the context of past experience and attachment, our responses in relationships start to make much more sense (Porges, 2011; Van der Kolk, 2014).

Rather than being an obstacle to connection, the nervous system is often actually trying to preserve it.

The Body Is Always Listening for Safety

Human beings are biologically wired to detect safety or threat in their surroundings. Long before the thinking mind has evaluated a situation, the nervous system is already scanning for cues in tone of voice, facial expression, posture, and distance.

If the body senses safety, it allows us to remain open, curious, and socially engaged. If it detects a potential threat, it prepares us to protect ourselves.

This process happens automatically and extremely quickly. It is governed by the autonomic nervous system, which regulates states of calm engagement, mobilisation (fight or flight), or shutdown. As described in the work of polyvagal theory, these shifts occur through unconscious neural processes designed to ensure survival (Porges, 2011).

In relational situations, the nervous system often responds not just to what is happening now, but to what the moment resembles from the past (Levine, 2010; Van der Kolk, 2014).

The reaction may seem excessive in the present moment, but to the nervous system, it can feel like a familiar signal of danger.

The Invisible Triggers Beneath Reactions

Many emotional reactions in relationships are driven by processes that operate below conscious awareness. The body stores patterns of response that were learned in earlier environments, especially during periods of vulnerability or stress (Van der Kolk, 2014).

When a current situation echoes those earlier experiences, the nervous system may activate protective responses automatically. These reactions often appear as anger, anxiety, defensiveness, withdrawal, or emotional overwhelm.

In trauma-informed perspectives, these responses are not viewed as signs of weakness or dysfunction, they are understood as adaptive strategies the body developed in order to cope (Levine, 2010).

Trauma is like an Invisible Lion. The nervous system reacts as though a threat is present, even when the conscious mind knows that the situation is not life-threatening. The body is responding to a perceived danger signal, not necessarily to the objective reality of the moment (Fry, 2019).

When people recognise that their reactions are rooted in protective biology rather than personal failure, the experience can become less confusing and more compassionate.

Attachment Shapes How the Nervous System Interprets Connection

Attachment theory provides another important piece of the puzzle. Early relationships with caregivers play a central role in shaping how the nervous system interprets closeness, distance, and emotional communication.

When caregivers are reliably responsive and attuned, the developing nervous system learns that connection is generally safe. Emotional distress can be soothed through the presence of another person, and the body learns how to return to balance (Schore, 2003).

When early relationships are inconsistent, unpredictable, or frightening, the nervous system may develop heightened sensitivity to relational cues. A small change in tone or attention may be interpreted as a signal that connection is at risk (Bowlby, 1969).

These patterns do not remain confined to childhood. They often continue to influence adult relationships, shaping expectations about closeness, rejection, and safety.

This is why certain relational situations can feel so emotionally intense. The nervous system may be responding not only to the present interaction but also to earlier experiences that formed its template for connection.

The Power of Co-Regulation

Although many people assume emotional regulation is purely an individual skill, nervous systems are deeply relational. Humans regulate one another constantly through subtle signals of safety and reassurance (Porges, 2011).

This process is known as co-regulation.

A calm tone of voice, gentle eye contact, steady pacing of conversation, and genuine responsiveness all communicate safety to another nervous system. These cues can help reduce stress responses and bring the body back toward balance.

In infancy, co-regulation is essential. A distressed baby relies entirely on a caregiver’s presence to return to calm. Over time, the nervous system gradually internalises these regulatory experiences (Schore, 2003).

Yet this need does not disappear in adulthood. Supportive relationships continue to play a powerful role in stabilising the nervous system.

When conflict occurs in relationships, the ability to return to connection, to repair, reassure, and acknowledge emotional impact, helps restore safety. Repeated experiences of this kind allow the nervous system to update its expectations and gradually become less reactive to perceived threat (Porges, 2011).

Boundaries as a Form of Safety

Healthy relationships are not built on constant closeness alone. They also require clear boundaries.

Boundaries are often misunderstood as walls that separate people, but in reality, they create the conditions that allow connection to remain safe and nourishing. When we feel able to express limits, needs, and preferences, there is greater stability and clarity, which reduces the uncertainty that can otherwise trigger stress responses.

Seen from this perspective, boundaries are not acts of rejection. They are acts of regulation. They help maintain the emotional space in which authentic connection can exist.

Moving from Self-Criticism to Curiosity

One of the most transformative shifts people can make is moving from self-judgement to curiosity.

When a strong emotional reaction appears, the immediate impulse is often to criticise ourselves or the other person. But a more helpful question might be: What signal of danger did my nervous system just detect?

This question opens the door to exploration rather than blame. It recognises that the body may be responding to something meaningful, even if the reaction seems disproportionate. By approaching these moments with curiosity, people often discover patterns rooted in earlier experiences of stress, loss, or relational uncertainty (Van der Kolk, 2014).

Awareness alone does not instantly dissolve these patterns. But it creates space for new responses to emerge.

Relearning Safety in Relationship

Healing relational reactivity is not about suppressing emotions or forcing calmness. Instead, it involves gradually helping the nervous system relearn what safety feels like.

This process often unfolds through repeated experiences of connection where conflict can occur without leading to abandonment, criticism, or emotional shutdown. Repair, empathy, and responsiveness become crucial.

Over time, the nervous system begins to update its predictions about relationships (Porges, 2011; Schore, 2003). Situations that once triggered intense alarm may begin to feel less threatening. The body learns that not every raised voice means rejection, and that not every disagreement means the end of connection.

The Nervous System as an Ally

At first glance, the nervous system may appear to be the source of relational problems. Its reactions can feel disruptive, overwhelming, or unpredictable. But when we look more closely, we see something different.

The nervous system is trying, often desperately, to protect connection, dignity, and emotional safety. Its responses are rooted in survival mechanisms that evolved to keep us alive and bonded to others (Porges, 2011).

When we approach these reactions with understanding rather than hostility, a new relationship with our internal experience becomes possible. Instead of fighting the nervous system, we can learn to listen to it. And in doing so, we begin to create the conditions in which both the body and our relationships can gradually move toward greater safety, resilience, and connection.

References

Bowlby, J. (1969). Attachment and Loss: Vol. 1 – Attachment. Basic Books. https://ia800205.us.archive.org/5/items/attachmentlossvo00john/attachmentlossvo00john.pdf

Fry, B. (2019). The Invisible Lion: How to Tame Your Nervous System and Reclaim Your Power. Watkins Publishing. https://benjaminfry.co.uk/the-invisible-lion/

Levine, P. (2010). In an Unspoken Voice: How the Body Releases Trauma and Restores Goodness. North Atlantic Books. https://archive.org/details/inunspokenvoiceh0000levi

Porges, S. W. (2011). The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological Foundations of Emotions, Attachment, Communication, and Self-Regulation. W. W. Norton & Company. https://archive.org/details/polyvagaltheoryn0000porg

Schore, A. N. (2003). Affect Regulation and the Repair of the Self. W. W. Norton & Company. https://www.academia.edu/45262427/Affect_Regulation_and_the_Repair_of_the_Self

Van der Kolk, B. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking. https://ia601604.us.archive.org/35/items/the-body-keeps-the-score-pdf/The-Body-Keeps-the-Score-PDF.pdf

You Are Not Too Sensitive, You Are Dysregulated: How the Body Reacts to Intimacy

Benjamin Fry — Fri, 20 Mar 2026 06:00:00 +0000

There is a moment, often quiet and almost imperceptible, when closeness begins to feel like too much. A message goes unanswered, a tone shifts, a partner turns away, and something inside the body tightens. The mind rushes in with explanations: I’m too much. I’m too sensitive. I always overreact.

But what if this isn’t a failure of character? What if it is the nervous system, doing exactly what it learned to do in order to survive?

Intimacy does not just happen in the mind. It happens in the body. And for many of us, the body has learned that closeness is not always safe.

The Nervous System Does Not Speak in Words

Long before we had the language to describe love, we had the capacity to feel safety or threat. The autonomic nervous system is constantly scanning, not for truth, but for familiarity. It asks a simple question: Is this safe enough?

Stephen Porges’ work on Polyvagal Theory reframes our understanding of these responses. According to Porges, our system shifts between states of connection, mobilisation, and shutdown. When we feel safe, the body allows for openness. We can connect, listen, and be present. When something feels threatening, even subtly, the body moves into protection.

This protection can look like anxiety, irritation, withdrawal, or numbness. It can feel like too much emotion or no emotion at all. It can appear as a sudden urge to pull away from someone we deeply care about.

None of this is random. It is patterned.

Deb Dana extends this understanding by describing how we move through these states in response to relational cues. A soft voice, a steady gaze or a sense of being understood can help the nervous system settle. But inconsistency, distance, or perceived rejection can trigger old responses. The body reacts not just to what is happening now, but to what has happened before.

So when intimacy begins to feel overwhelming, it is often not because we are too sensitive. It is because the nervous system has shifted out of safety.

Trauma Lives Beneath the Surface of Love

Trauma is not defined solely by catastrophic events. As Judith Herman suggests, trauma arises when an experience overwhelms our capacity to cope, particularly when it occurs within relationships where we depend on others for safety. It is less about the event itself and more about what happens internally as a result.

Bessel van der Kolk describes how trauma is stored in the body. It is held in patterns of tension, in breath, in posture, in the way the nervous system anticipates the world. These imprints do not disappear with time. They shape how we perceive and respond to closeness.

Trauma often originates in the disruption of attachment. When the connection is inconsistent, intrusive, or absent, the child’s system adapts. It learns how to maintain some form of relationship, even at the cost of authenticity.

This adaptation is intelligent. It allows the child to survive. But it also creates a blueprint for intimacy that persists into adulthood.

So when a partner gets too close, or not close enough, the body may react as if something much larger is at stake. A simple disagreement can feel like abandonment. A moment of silence can feel like rejection. The reaction is real, even if it seems disproportionate.

The body is not responding to the present alone. It is responding to memory, encoded not as narrative but as sensation.

The Misunderstanding of Sensitivity

Many people come to believe that their emotional responses are the problem. They describe themselves as overly sensitive, reactive, or difficult. They try to manage or suppress these responses, hoping to become more “reasonable.”

But sensitivity, in this context, is often a misinterpretation of dysregulation.

When the nervous system is dysregulated, it loses its flexibility. It becomes more easily activated and slower to return to baseline. This can lead to heightened emotional responses, difficulty with uncertainty, and a tendency to interpret ambiguity as threat.

What is often labelled as “too much” is, in fact, the body’s attempt to maintain safety.

This reframing is not about dismissing the impact of our reactions. Our behaviour still matters. But it shifts the focus from blame to understanding. Instead of asking, What is wrong with me? We begin to ask, What is my body trying to protect me from?

This question opens a different kind of inquiry, one that is grounded in compassion rather than judgment.

Boundaries as Regulation, Not Rejection

In the context of dysregulation, boundaries can become confused. For some, boundaries feel impossible. There is a fear that asserting needs will lead to rejection or conflict. For others, boundaries become rigid, a way of avoiding vulnerability altogether.

Healthy boundaries are not about control. They are about regulation.

When we are able to recognise our internal limits and communicate them, we create the conditions for safety. The nervous system settles when it knows it can move towards or away from connection without losing the relationship.

Without boundaries, intimacy can feel overwhelming. With overly rigid boundaries, it can feel distant and disconnected. The balance is not fixed but is instead something that is continually negotiated.

This negotiation requires awareness of the body. It involves noticing when something feels too much or not enough, and trusting those signals as information rather than weakness.

Boundaries, in this sense, are not barriers. They are the structures that allow connection to exist without collapse or intrusion.

Co-Regulation – We Are Not Meant to Do This Alone

Human beings are inherently relational. Our nervous systems are designed to interact with others. Regulation is not only an individual process, but it is something that happens between us.

Deb Dana describes co-regulation as the experience of being with another person in a way that supports a sense of safety. This can be as simple as a calm presence, a reassuring tone, or a willingness to stay engaged during moments of difficulty.

In healthy relationships, partners influence each other’s nervous systems. One person’s steadiness can help soothe another’s activation. This does not mean taking responsibility for another’s emotions, but it does involve an awareness of how we impact each other.

When both partners are dysregulated, it can create a feedback loop. One person’s anxiety may trigger the other’s withdrawal, which in turn intensifies the anxiety. These patterns can feel entrenched, but they are not fixed.

With awareness, it becomes possible to interrupt the cycle. This might involve pausing, acknowledging what is happening internally, or reaching for connection in a different way.

Co-regulation is not about perfection. It is about repair and about finding ways to return to safety together, even after rupture.

Healing – Expanding the Window of Safety

Healing is not about eliminating dysregulation. The nervous system will always respond to perceived threat. The aim is not to become unreactive, but to become more flexible.

This flexibility is sometimes described as the “window of tolerance.”Within this window, we can experience emotions without becoming overwhelmed or shutting down. When we move outside of it, we enter states of hyperarousal or hypoarousal. Healing involves expanding this window.

This can happen through practices that support regulation, such as breath, movement, and mindful awareness of the body. But it also happens in relationship to others. When we experience a consistent, attuned connection, the nervous system begins to learn that closeness can be safe.

Over time, the body starts to update its expectations. What once felt threatening may begin to feel tolerable, and eventually, even comforting. This process is gradual. It requires patience, but it is possible.

From Self-Criticism to Self-Understanding

The belief that we are too sensitive often carries a quiet shame. It suggests that something about us is inherently flawed. This belief can become another layer of suffering, one that sits on top of the original dysregulation.

But when we understand the role of the nervous system and the impact of trauma, a different narrative emerges.

The reactions we have developed are not signs of weakness. They are signs of adaptation. They reflect the ways in which we have learned to survive in environments that were, at times, overwhelming or unpredictable.

This does not mean we are destined to repeat the same patterns, as awareness creates choice. When we can recognise what is happening in our bodies, we can begin to respond differently.

We can pause instead of reacting and communicate instead of withdrawing. We can stay present for a little longer than we could before, and perhaps most importantly, we can begin to relate to ourselves with kindness.

Intimacy will always involve a degree of vulnerability. It will activate parts of us that are tender, uncertain, and, at times, afraid. But these responses are not evidence that we are too much; they are evidence that we are human. When we learn to meet these responses with understanding, we move, slowly but meaningfully, from survival towards connection.

References

Dana, D. (2018). The Polyvagal Theory in Therapy: Engaging the Rhythm of Regulation. W. W. Norton. https://www.scirp.org/reference/referencespapers?referenceid=2897973

Herman, J. L. (1992). Trauma and Recovery. Basic Books. https://ia803207.us.archive.org/14/items/radfem-books/Trauma%20and%20Recovery_%20The%20Afterm%20-%20Judith%20L.%20Herman.pdf

Maté, G. (2019). When the Body Says No: The Cost of Hidden Stress. Vintage. https://archive.org/details/whenbodysaysnoco0000mate

Maté, G. (2022). The Myth of Normal: Trauma, Illness, and Healing in a Toxic Culture. Vermilion. https://ia601504.us.archive.org/23/items/the-myth-of-normal-by-gabor-mate/The%20Myth%20of%20Normal%20by%20Gabor%20Mate.pdf

Porges, S. W. (2011). The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological Foundations of Emotions, Attachment, Communication, and Self-Regulation. W. W. Norton. https://archive.org/details/polyvagaltheoryn0000porg

van der Kolk, B. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking. https://ia601604.us.archive.org/35/items/the-body-keeps-the-score-pdf/The-Body-Keeps-the-Score-PDF.pdf

Before the Words: Regulating the Nervous System Before Communicating

Benjamin Fry — Fri, 06 Feb 2026 11:53:14 +0000

When we think about communication, we typically focus on what is said. The words, the tone, the phrasing. But beneath every exchange, especially the difficult ones, lies something even more fundamental, the nervous system. Before we speak, before we make sense of another person’s face or voice, our nervous system is already doing its work. It is scanning for safety, preparing for threat, and shaping how open we are for connection. Understanding this invisible landscape, the terrain before the words, helps us foster healthier communication and more healing relationships.

The Nervous System as Early Interpreter

In everyday life, we move through a subtle, ongoing process of interpretation. We glance at a tone, read a gesture, and instinctively respond. But these instinctive responses aren’t just cognitive. They are deeply physiological. Stephen Porges, the creator of Polyvagal Theory, describes the nervous system as an ever-present interpreter of safety cues (Porges, 2011). Long before we choose words, our bodies are asking questions like, Is this safe? Can I relax?

This underlying mechanism evolved to protect us. In moments of danger, our nervous system triggers fight, flight, or shutdown responses. These responses can look like shouting, withdrawing physically or emotionally, or freezing in place. Communication becomes secondary to survival. This is not a failure of communication, but is simply the body doing exactly what it was designed to do.

For many people, especially those with early experiences of inconsistency, neglect, or harm, the nervous system remains on alert even when danger is no longer present. Dr Bessel van der Kolk, in The Body Keeps the Score, emphasises that trauma is not stored as a narrative but as a pattern of bodily responses (van der Kolk, 2014). The nervous system remembers.

In relationships, this means that before we speak, our nervous system has already begun to speak for us. We may feel flooded, shut down, anxious, or defensive before a single word is exchanged. Recognising this is the first step towards genuine, healing communication.

Safety Comes Before Story

It’s tempting to think that improved communication skills, like better phrasing, more empathy, or clearer boundaries, are the primary solution to conflict. But if the nervous system is not regulated, good communication skills often fall flat. It is like trying to build a house on unstable ground. Mindfulness scholar and psychiatrist Dan Siegel talks about this as integrated regulation, which is the capacity to hold internal states while engaging with another (Siegel, 1999). When someone’s nervous system is dysregulated, their capacity for integration shrinks.

Imagine trying to explain your feelings while your heart rate is high, your body is tense, and your senses are focused on threat. Your mind may know what you want to say, but your nervous system is on red alert. In those moments, the words we choose are less important than the state we bring to the interaction.

This is where the idea before the words becomes vital. Before you talk about hurt, misunderstanding, or boundaries, your nervous system must first perceive that there is enough safety to stay present. Only then can honesty, curiosity, and vulnerability flourish.

Regulation as the Groundwork for Connection

Regulating the nervous system doesn’t require perfection or that we feel calm all the time. It simply means cultivating the capacity to notice when we are dysregulated, and to bring ourselves back toward calm and presence.

Different experts describe tools for this in different languages, but the underlying message is the same: that regulation is relational. Somatic trauma therapist Peter Levine describes healing as a process of completing interrupted responses (Levine, 1997). When the body was once caught in survival mode, without a chance to discharge tension, it remembers. Healing gives the body a chance to finish those reactions in safe contexts. This can look like slow breathing, grounding touch, or gentle movement. These practices return the nervous system to a state where connection is possible.

Polyvagal Theory highlights that safety cues from others, such as regulated voices, gentle eye contact and predictable rhythms, can help our nervous system shift from defence to engagement (Porges, 2011). The presence of another who is calm and attuned invites the body to relax. This is why relational healing, not just internal work, really matters.

Boundaries as a Regulation Tool

Boundaries often come up when communication breaks down. We think of boundaries as rules or limits. But boundaries also serve a deeper nervous system function, as they help us to predict safety. When we know what to expect from others, the nervous system feels less threatened. Daniel Siegel frames boundaries not as walls but as regulating markers that define healthy internal and external space (Siegel, 1999).

For someone whose early experiences lacked consistent boundaries, where needs were ignored or violated, setting a boundary can feel frightening. This is because, for the nervous system, boundaries were once absent, unpredictable, or unsafe. Healing involves slowly practising boundaries in contexts where others respond with respect and attunement. Over time, these experiences teach the body that this boundary keeps me safe, and it does not invite rejection.

When nervous systems feel safe before and during communication, boundaries can be expressed with clarity and compassion rather than urgency or fear.

Communication as Nervous System Dance

If words live on the surface, nervous system signals live beneath. Our physiological responses, such as heart rate, breath and muscle tension, can reveal truths that words cannot. Listening to the body’s state can deepen relational attunement. This means that before speaking, we can ask; What is my body telling me? Is this moment safe enough to speak from honesty?

This attention to the body reflects decades of research showing that interoception, or sensing internal states, enhances emotional awareness and empathy.

When we tune into our internal landscape before speaking, we build a bridge from regulation into expression.

Repair Happens in Time

Relationships built on miscommunication often need repair. But repair can only happen when both nervous systems are able to shift toward co-regulation and a shared state of safety. Psychologist Sue Johnson, creator of Emotionally Focused Therapy, emphasises that emotional bonding experiences help partners regulate together (Johnson, 2008). When one partner expresses vulnerability and the other responds with care, the nervous systems of both individuals begin to feel safety instead of threat.

This doesn’t happen once. Repair is a pattern that requires repeated experiences of attuned presence. It is not about perfect communication but about trustworthy responsiveness. Each time someone’s nervous system experiences safety in a relational exchange, the body learns a new interpretation; that not all connection is dangerous. Words can come after safety. Over time, the nervous system integrates this learning, and emotional safety becomes familiar.

Words Are Built on Safety

Our capacity to speak from vulnerability, to negotiate boundaries, and to express needs with clarity is rooted in how safe our nervous systems feel. Before the words, before the sentences, before the explanations, the body is already interpreting the environment. Recognising this shift from cognitive communication to physiological readiness transforms how we approach relationship healing.

Regulation is the foundation of healthy communication. When we are aware of what happens before the words, we create fertile ground for connection. We learn that the body remembers safety as much as threat, and that healing is possible through attuned presence, compassionate boundaries, and repeated experiences of co-regulation.

Before words, the nervous system speaks first. When we listen there, we find our way toward deeper connection.

References

Johnson, S. M. (2008). Hold Me Tight: Seven Conversations for a Lifetime of Love. Little, Brown Spark. https://archive.org/details/holdmetightseven0000john

Levine, P. A. (1997). Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma. North Atlantic Books. Levine, P. A. https://archive.org/details/wakingtigerheali00levi

Porges, S. W. (2011). The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological Foundations of Emotions, Attachment, Communication, Self-Regulation. W. W. Norton & Company. https://archive.org/details/polyvagaltheoryn0000porg

Siegel, D. J. (1999). The Developing Mind: How Relationships and the Brain Interact to Shape Who We Are. Guilford Press. https://archive.org/details/developingmindho0000sieg

Your Nervous System: Understanding Reactions in Relationships

Benjamin Fry — Fri, 28 Nov 2025 13:37:57 +0000

Human connection is not only emotional or psychological, but is also profoundly biological. Beneath every interaction lies a complex web of physiological responses orchestrated by the nervous system. Understanding how this system functions, and how it is shaped by trauma and healing can transform the way relationships are experienced.

The Nervous System – The Hidden Partner in Every Relationship

Every relationship involves two nervous systems in constant communication. Smiles, tone of voice, body posture, and eye contact all act as cues that the body interprets long before the conscious mind has time to respond.

According to Dr. Stephen Porges, founder of Polyvagal Theory, the autonomic nervous system continuously evaluates the environment through a process called neuroception. This is an unconscious mechanism that detects safety, danger, or threat. This detection occurs automatically, influencing how humans feel and behave toward others.

When safety is sensed, the ventral vagal complex, known as the social engagement system becomes active. In this state, the heart rate slows, breathing deepens, and connection feels natural. When the nervous system perceives danger, it shifts into sympathetic activation (fight or flight), preparing the body for defence. In moments of overwhelming threat, it may collapse into dorsal vagal shutdown (freeze), leading to numbness or withdrawal.

The nervous system can be said to be the hidden partner in every relationship. It shapes communication, emotional tone, and controls our ability to stay present or can force us to retreat during conflict.

Trauma and the Rewired Nervous System

Trauma profoundly alters the functioning of the nervous system. Experiences of threat, neglect, or loss can leave lasting imprints that distort the body’s sense of safety.

Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, in The Body Keeps the Score (2014), describes trauma as the body continuing to defend against a threat long after the danger has passed. The nervous system, once adaptive, can become stuck in patterns of hyperarousal or shutdown.

The result is a system that misreads the present moment through the lens of the past. For example:

In sympathetic activation (fight or flight), the body stays alert and tense, ready to fight or flee. Relationally, this may appear as defensiveness, control, or irritability.
In dorsal vagal shutdown (freeze), energy collapses, and connection becomes difficult. Numbness, withdrawal, or dissociation may occur.
In ventral vagal safety, regulation allows for openness, curiosity, and intimacy.

Trauma can make safety feel unfamiliar, even threatening. Genuine affection may be misinterpreted as danger because the body has learned that closeness leads to pain. Dr. Peter Levine, developer of Somatic Experiencing, notes that “trauma is not what happens to us, but what we hold inside in the absence of an empathetic witness.” The body holds those unprocessed experiences, shaping how individuals respond to others.

When the Body Reacts Before the Mind

Reactivity in relationships is often a nervous system response, not a moral failure or character flaw. The body moves first before rational thinking can step in.

A raised voice, a sigh, or a turned back can trigger a physiological cascade, causing the heart to race, muscles to tense and breathing to become shallow. These responses occur before conscious reasoning can intervene. The nervous system reacts as though there is danger, even when the threat is emotional rather than physical.

This can be seen as the invisible lion response, when the body reacts to a partner’s tone or expression as if a lion has entered the room. The survival system hijacks behaviour, leading to arguments, avoidance, or emotional collapse.

Recognising this mechanism does not excuse harmful behaviour, but it provides essential context. Understanding that reactivity originates in the body allows for compassion and creates the conditions for regulation and repair.

Healing Through Regulation

Healing from trauma requires more than intellectual insight. It involves retraining the nervous system to experience safety again. Regulation occurs when the body regains flexibility and the ability to move between states of arousal and calm without becoming trapped in either.

The process of healing involves bringing the body’s alarm system back into the present time. This can be cultivated through several approaches:

Awareness: Learning to notice bodily sensations such as tightness, heat, tension, and numbness without judgment. Awareness transforms unconscious reaction into conscious observation.
Co-regulation, where safety can be restored through connection. The presence of another calm, regulated person can signal to the nervous system that it is safe to settle.
Self-regulation, involving techniques such as grounding, slow breathing, mindful movement, and gentle stretching that can calm physiological arousal.
Integration through repeated experiences of safety. This can cause new neural pathways to form, and the nervous system begins to associate connection with calm rather than danger.

Body-based therapies and polyvagal-informed approaches are designed to support this process. Van der Kolk’s research demonstrates that modalities involving bodily awareness like yoga, EMDR and breathwork, can restore regulation more effectively than talk therapy alone, as they communicate directly with the nervous system’s language.

Relationships are Healing

Healing the nervous system often occurs within relationships, not apart from them. Connection can provide the biological conditions for safety, and safety allows the body to process and heal.

Co-regulation is the foundation of this process. When one person maintains a regulated state, displaying a calm voice, relaxed posture and steady breathing, it can help another person’s system stabilise. This is the same mechanism by which infants learn security from caregivers.

Conflict can therefore become fertile ground for transformation. When a partner recognises that a reaction is physiological rather than personal, the conversation can shift from blame to awareness. Emotional regulation allows for repair, understanding, and connection.

Healing is not about never being triggered again or developing completely porous or rigid boundaries. It is about knowing what to do when activation arises. Regulation creates space between reaction and response, allowing us to choose how we react in difficult moments.

From Reaction to Relationship

By understanding that the nervous system affects our emotional responses, reactions that once appeared irrational or excessive are revealed as survival strategies learned in the body’s past. This perspective replaces judgment with curiosity and shame with compassion.

When the nervous system is regulated, relationships become safer and more authentic. Communication deepens because both individuals can remain present rather than defensive or withdrawn. Regulation allows for empathy, patience, and trust, which are all important in relational healing.

Trauma may shape the nervous system, but it does not define it permanently. Through awareness, co-regulation, and therapeutic support, the body learns that connection can coexist with safety. A nervous system which was once a guardian of survival can become a gateway to intimacy and peace.

References

van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking. https://ia601604.us.archive.org/35/items/the-body-keeps-the-score-pdf/The-Body-Keeps-the-Score-PDF.pdf

Levine, P. A. (1997). Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma. North Atlantic Books. https://cmc.marmot.org/Record/.b10953930

Porges, S. W. (2022). “Polyvagal Theory: A Science of Safety.” Frontiers in Integrative Neuroscience. https://www.frontiersin.org/journals/integrative-neuroscience/articles/10.3389/fnint.2022.871227/full

Staying Close When It’s Hard – The Art of Regulating Together

Benjamin Fry — Sat, 15 Nov 2025 11:23:39 +0000

When life gets tough, we often think the best way through it is to figure everything out in our heads. We tend to analyse and rationalise, hoping that understanding will bring relief, but when we are overwhelmed, our nervous system takes control over any rational thinking. The body makes decisions about safety long before the mind can make sense of them.

The Nervous System: The Foundation of Our Emotional Life

The nervous system is the foundation of our emotional life. It constantly scans for danger and safety, influencing our moods, relationships, and capacity to connect with the people in our lives. In moments of trauma or prolonged stress, this delicate system becomes dysregulated. It learns to stay on high alert, unable to ever fully return to rest.

We can find ourselves anxious, numb, or seemingly over-reactive, even when life appears calm. This is not weakness or failure but a survival response that has outlived its usefulness.

Understanding How the Body Responds to Safety and Threat

Healing begins with recognising that our nervous system shapes our inner world. Stephen Porges’ Polyvagal Theory offers a profound map of how this happens (Porges, 2011). He describes how the vagus nerve regulates shifts between mobilisation, shutdown, and safety.

When we feel secure, we can connect with others, making eye contact, listening, and staying open. When we sense threat, we move into defence mode. Our bodies tighten, our breath shallows, and our social engagement system switches off. If we are traumatised, this protective function can become normal for us.

We cannot “think” our way out of this. The nervous system doesn’t speak in words but in sensations, impulses, and rhythms. Therefore, the work of healing is not only about analysis or insight but requires a focus on restoring the body’s capacity to move safely between moments of stress and calm.

Co-Regulation: Healing Through Connection

One of the most powerful ways we can do this is through co-regulation, which is the biological process by which one nervous system helps another to find balance. This is an unspoken conversation between bodies.

When a parent holds a distressed child and breathes steadily, the child’s heart rate slows to match the parent’s. The same process happens between adults. Our nervous systems are designed to connect, and therefore regulation is a shared experience.

Peter Levine, the founder of Somatic Experiencing, describes trauma as “a loss of connection, to ourselves, to others, and to the world around us” (Levine, 2010). Connection is therefore both the means and the measure of recovery.

When we have been hurt, our systems may equate closeness with danger. We may shut down when others reach for us, or feel suffocated by intimacy. These reactions are not choices but protective reflexes. Recognising this allows us to meet our own reactions with compassion and curiosity instead of frustration.

The Power of Presence

The art of regulating together begins with presence. When we can stay grounded in our own bodies, we offer stability to another. This doesn’t mean rescuing, fixing, or talking someone out of their pain. It means being there by breathing, sensing, and staying in the moment. A calm nervous system invites another into safety without needing to say a word.

Self-Regulation: Grounding Ourselves First

But this is rarely easy. When someone we love is in distress, our own system may become activated in response. We might feel the urge to withdraw or to manage the other person’s feelings so that we can settle ours.

True co-regulation asks us to notice our own reaction and soften into it and to breathe instead of recoil. Sometimes that means taking a moment alone to regulate ourselves before entering into connection with another. This is self-regulation, which is the ability to soothe our own body so that we can meet another’s.

Bessel van der Kolk reminds us that “we can only be fully present with others when we feel safe in our own bodies” (van der Kolk, 2014). Safety is not an idea but a sensation. It is felt in the body, in the breath, in the steadiness of another person’s gaze. When our nervous system learns that closeness no longer equals danger, something profound shifts. We begin to trust connection again.

The Nervous System’s Version of Hope

Over time, repeated experiences of co-regulation rebuild our nervous system’s flexibility. The body starts to remember that activation can be followed by calm, that distance can be followed by closeness, that pain can coexist with safety. This is the nervous system’s version of hope.

In practice, this might look like sitting quietly with a friend who is struggling, feeling your own breath while allowing theirs to find rhythm alongside yours. It might mean noticing when you start to harden or retreat, and gently returning your attention to your body by focusing on your feet, your breath, or the ground beneath you.

It might be as simple as staying, softly, when every instinct says to pull away.

Healing in Relationship

Judith Herman wrote that “recovery can take place only within the context of relationships; it cannot occur in isolation” (Herman, 1992). Healing from trauma requires not just understanding but connection and the slow re-learning of safety in the presence of another human being.

When two people remain present through difficulty, something remarkable happens. Their nervous systems begin to synchronise. Research shows that heart rates, breathing patterns, and even brain activity can align during moments of deep attunement (Feldman, 2017). This is the biology of empathy and shows the ways in which our bodies can communicate beyond language.

The Practice of Staying Close

Staying close when it’s hard is a practice. It asks us to tolerate discomfort, to hold space for emotions that may feel unbearable. But every time we manage to stay, to breathe, to remain embodied, we are teaching the nervous system that it can survive connection, and it is possible to feel deeply and still be safe.

This is how trauma heals, not through sudden insight or dramatic revelation, but through countless small experiences of safety, repeated over time. Through another person’s calm gaze, through a steady hand, through the quiet confidence that we no longer have to face our pain alone.

Coming Home to Ourselves and Each Other

The nervous system is not a machine to be fixed but a living system to be understood, respected, and met with compassion. When we learn to listen to it, we begin to rediscover what it means to be human.

To stay close when it’s hard is both the challenge and the gift of our biology. It is the art of regulating together, and through it, we find our way home to connection, safety, love and vitality.

References

Feldman, R. (2017) ‘The neurobiology of human attachments’, Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 21(2), pp. 80–99. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S1364661316301991

Herman, J. (1992) Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence – from Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. New York: Basic Books. https://psychiatryonline.org/doi/10.1176/appi.psychotherapy.2015.69.4.455

Levine, P. (2010) In an Unspoken Voice: How the Body Releases Trauma and Restores Goodness. Berkeley: North Atlantic Books. https://archive.org/details/inunspokenvoiceh0000levi

Porges, S. (2011) The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological Foundations of Emotions, Attachment, Communication, and Self-Regulation. New York: W. W. Norton & Company. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3490536/

van der Kolk, B. (2014) The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. New York: Viking. https://ia601604.us.archive.org/35/items/the-body-keeps-the-score-pdf/The-Body-Keeps-the-Score-PDF.pdf

Why You Keep Shutting Down: Dissociation and the Avoidant Nervous System

Benjamin Fry — Mon, 08 Sep 2025 14:42:20 +0000

In emotionally intimate relationships, it is not uncommon for one partner to withdraw when faced with conflict, closeness, or strong emotion. This pattern, often referred to as “shutting down,” is often misunderstood. What appears to be emotional detachment, coldness, or condescension may, in fact, be a deeply ingrained nervous system response rooted in early relational trauma. For individuals with avoidant attachment patterns, dissociation and emotional numbness are not signs of disrespect or disinterest, but protective measures developed in response to emotional overwhelm and vulnerability.

This blog explores the neurobiological and relational foundations of shutdown responses, particularly as they relate to avoidant attachment and dissociation. It also considers how these patterns can be understood and gradually transformed through trauma-informed practices, nervous system regulation, boundaries, and co-regulation within safe relational contexts.

Avoidant Attachment as a Relational Strategy

Attachment theory, developed by John Bowlby, suggests that early experiences with caregivers shape our internal model of relationships (Bowlby, 1988). When a child’s emotional needs are inconsistently met, particularly in environments where expressing distress is met with neglect or anger, the child learns to suppress those needs. Over time, this suppression can evolve into an avoidant attachment style, where emotional independence becomes not only a preference but a perceived safety measure.

Adults with avoidant attachment can often see intimacy as a threat. Close proximity to others, especially when emotional vulnerability is involved, can cause discomfort, agitation, or withdrawal. These reactions are not conscious, but are the nervous system’s attempt to maintain regulation by reducing danger. We may detach ourselves from emotional conversations, experience numbness, or become physically or psychologically distant during intense or stressful moments with our partners. This withdrawal is often confusing and deeply rooted in the past.

Dissociation and the Shutdown Response

To understand why some people shut down during moments of closeness or conflict, it is essential to consider the role of the autonomic nervous system. According to Stephen Porges’ Polyvagal Theory, the human nervous system responds to threat by fight or flight, or eventually freeze/shutdown, if fighting back or fleeing feels impossible (Porges, 2011). This final state is characterised by immobilisation, numbing, and dissociation.

Dissociation is a protective mechanism. It allows individuals to distance themselves from overwhelming stimuli, especially when those stimuli are emotional in nature. For someone with a history of attachment trauma, relational closeness itself can be really uncomfortable and overwhelming, echoing traumatic experiences from the past. In these moments, the

nervous system sees emotional intensity as a threat and begins to shut down in order to self-protect. This may manifest as an inability to access feelings and an unsettling sense of disconnection from the body or present moment.

Bessel van der Kolk (2014) notes that traumatic experiences are stored in the body, often outside of conscious awareness. When present experiences align with unresolved attachment wounds, the nervous system may respond not to the current relationship but to the internalised memory of earlier ones. As a result, we may find ourselves shutting down in ways that feel out of proportion to the present situation, yet entirely congruent with our internal sense of danger.

The Impact on Relationships

In intimate relationships, the shutdown response can be confusing and painful for both partners. The partner who dissociates may feel ashamed or bewildered by their inability to stay emotionally engaged, while the other partner may feel rejected or abandoned. Over time, this dynamic can erode trust and intimacy, particularly if it becomes part of a recurring cycle where one partner pursues connection and the other withdraws.

This destructive pattern is hard to resolve as the dissociative response is not a deliberate choice. It is, fundamentally, a nervous system state. As such, any meaningful change must begin by working with the body’s physiological response to stress and connection.

Healing Through Regulation and Relational Safety

Recovering from relational trauma and the dissociative shutdowns it can trigger starts with noticing the nervous system, where it tightens, where it shuts down, and when it begins to relax. As Deb Dana (2018) describes, mapping our autonomic patterns helps us see these moments more clearly. By recognising early signs of dysregulation, we can start to develop gentle ways to return to a more connected, regulated state.

Practices like grounding, breathwork, or gentle somatic exercises bring attention back to the body. The aim isn’t to avoid shutdown, but to become aware of it, slowly building tolerance for connection and vulnerability without becoming overwhelmed.

Boundaries are part of this work. For those of us with avoidant tendencies, boundaries are often either too rigid (to prevent closeness) or undefined (leading to emotional shutdown), allowing emotional shutdown to take over. Learning to set clear, compassionate boundaries creates safety and autonomy, making it easier to stay present even in emotionally charged situations.

Healing does not happen alone. Co-regulation, the shared regulation between nervous systems, is incredibly important in addition to self-regulation. Safe, responsive relationships show the nervous system that connection can be safe. Therapy can provide this same stabilising presence, allowing the body and mind to learn a new rhythm of trust and attunement.

Conclusion

The tendency to shut down during intimacy is not a character flaw, nor is it an indicator of emotional inadequacy. It is a physiological survival response, shaped by early experiences and sustained by a nervous system that has learned to associate closeness with danger. By bringing compassionate awareness to this pattern, and by working with the body’s rhythms rather than against them, it is possible to create new pathways for connection.

With time, boundaries, and the support of safe relationships, the avoidant nervous system can learn that it no longer needs to protect itself by disappearing. In its place, a more resilient, regulated, and relationally engaged self can begin to emerge.

References

Bowlby, J. (1988). A Secure Base: Parent-Child Attachment and Healthy Human Development. Basic Books.

https://www.increaseproject.eu/images/DOWNLOADS/IO2/HU/CURR_M4-A13_Bowlby_(EN -only)_20170920_HU_final.pdf

Dana, D. (2018). The Polyvagal Theory in Therapy: Engaging the Rhythm of Regulation. W. W. Norton & Company.

https://catalog.nlm.nih.gov/discovery/fulldisplay/alma9917307643406676/01NLM_INST:01NL M_INST

Porges, S. W. (2011). The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological Foundations of Emotions, Attachment, Communication, and Self-Regulation. W. W. Norton & Company. Porges, S. W. (2011). https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3490536/

van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking.

https://ia601604.us.archive.org/35/items/the-body-keeps-the-score-pdf/The-Body-Keeps-the Score-PDF.pdf

Our Baggage and The Nervous System

Benjamin Fry — Fri, 17 Apr 2020 11:00:00 +0000

In freeing ourselves from a dysregulated nervous system, an important step is learning how to reframe our experiences. We need to do this so that we are no longer subject to learned ways of behaviour that negatively impact our lives and the relationships we have with others.

The goal is to go from the diagram on the left below to the one on the right.

In the diagram on the left, in which our baggage is represented by the red squiggle, triggers are the green arrow, and our reaction is the red arrow, you can see a dysregulated nervous system – one that overreacts to the trigger. The diagram on the right represents a nervous system that is well regulated as a result of using boundaries and containment.

To reframe our experiences, we must bring attention to our triggers, our baggage, and our reactions. It’s easy to consider ourselves the victim in situations that trigger us and make us feel unsafe, but there is very little we can do to control what life throws at us. What we can do, however, is use boundaries and containment to lessen the impact that our triggers have on our baggage. When we do this, we create something like a shield around that vulnerable, wounded part of ourselves.

For the purposes of this blog, let’s look at how we can approach our baggage and reframe how we experience it.

Let’s look at the example of Eric in the office to see how this can be applied in practice.

You work in an open plan office and you are on a tight deadline for an important project. Eric sits opposite you and often tries to engage you in conversation. You are quite shy but don’t want to just say outright that you don’t want to talk. You feel trapped and the stress of your deadline just keeps growing.

In dealing with you triggers and reactions, you could be open and honest with Eric by saying something like:

‘Hey Eric, I’m on a deadline and the conflict of also wanting to talk to you is a trigger for me. I notice that it makes me stressed and I’d like to avoid that.’

Or you could keep your reaction work related by saying:

‘It makes me less productive because I feel like I’m in two places at once.’

In doing so, you act as a witness to yourself. The goal of working with our reactions is to notice them in the simplest way possible. We want to avoid blame and judgement..

To set up this process of drawing the other person in, rather than putting them on the defensive, you start with the careful explanation of the trigger. If you don’t attack, blame or judge with the trigger, you will usually find that the person you are talking to (even if it is yourself) can also find some degree of empathy and compassion with whatever the difficult experience, sensations or feelings you are having in reaction to this trigger.

All of this then sets the stage for the final part of opening up the window into your nervous system, which is when, in the image above, we go from the diagram on the left to the one on the right.

By not alienating or abusing the other person, and by even generating some empathy for our experience, we are creating the right conditions safely to explore and expose our baggage. We now get to tell them why we had the reaction we did. Or, at least, have a really good guess.

Our baggage, of course, is at the heart of all of our problems. It is the unfinished business from our responses to threat in the past. In nervous system recovery terms, it’s our greatest opportunity but also our greatest threat. Revisiting unfinished threat responses is always going to be difficult because we are returning to the experiences which most overwhelmed us in the past, but completing them is our surest pathway back to regulation. All the same, it’s something to approach very carefully.

Once you have carefully identified your trigger, and diligently noticed and safely articulated your reaction, it’s time to open up the bit in the middle, the bit that links the trigger to that reaction.

This is where we start to guess at the origin of our baggage.

It is a fairly simple formula. Once you’ve described the trigger and the reaction that went with it, you try to make sense of the distance between the two by telling yourself, or the other person, what this combination of your trigger and your reaction reminds you of. It might not work; it might not remind you of anything. But usually, especially if you have got the first two parts right, you will find that the baggage comes into view.

So, in our example in the office setting, dealing with our baggage might look something like this:

“Hey Eric, I’m on a deadline and so the conflict of wanting to talk to you is a trigger for me. It makes me less productive because I feel like I’m in two places at once.”

And then you might add:

“I felt like that in my last job and it didn’t work out so well. So I’m trying to do something differently here.”

What this brief snippet of conversation does is opens up a window into the link between your nervous system, your behaviour and, therefore, your relationships. It puts this picture into language that’s specific to that situation.

And it keeps you in relationships while you do it. Staying connected is the very best thing you can do for your nervous system. It regulates you and gives you a chance to repair attachments. To be able to process unfinished business whilst staying connected is priceless.

I could give you a thousand examples, but this only works if you practice it for yourself in situations that are meaningful to you.

You can download this post in a handy 2-page PDF to print and share with friends, family, clients or colleagues. Follow this link to download now.

You can buy a copy of The Invisible Lion now on kindle or paperback from your local Amazon store. Just click here to buy now.

Reactions and the Nervous System

Benjamin Fry — Thu, 16 Apr 2020 11:00:00 +0000

In freeing ourselves from a dysregulated nervous system, an important step is learning how
to reframe our experiences and manage our triggers, reactions, and baggage. We need to do
this so that we are no longer subject to learned ways of behaviour that negatively impact our
lives and the relationships we have with others.

The goal is to go from the diagram on the left below to the one on the right.

In the diagram on the left, in which our baggage is represented by the red squiggle, triggers
are the green arrow, and our reaction is the red arrow, you can see a dysregulated nervous
system – one that overreacts to the trigger. The diagram on the right represents a nervous
system that is well regulated as a result of using boundaries and containment.

To reframe our experiences, we must bring attention to our triggers, our baggage, and our
reactions. It’s easy to consider ourselves the victim in situations that trigger us and make us
feel unsafe, but there is very little we can do to control what life throws at us. What we can
do, however, is use boundaries and containment to lessen the impact that our triggers have
on our baggage. When we do this, we create something like a shield around that vulnerable,
wounded part of ourselves.

For the purposes of this blog, let’s consider how we can best articulate our reactions in the
face of a trigger. This can actually be very simple. One way is to take a menu of basic
emotions and to check the ones which you are aware of as you talk about the trigger.

There is also a great resource called a feeling wheel, which breaks down the simpler emotions
into more complex ones as you get towards the rim of the wheel. Search online for examples.
Or you can come up with your own list to help you. Here is an example of a list of some
which I was taught in treatment. These are common emotions you might experience in your
reaction:

● Joy
● Passion
● Love
● Fear
● Sadness
● Anger
● Shame
● Guilt

Another way to approach exploring this reaction is to start to notice what sensations you have
in your body when you are talking about the trigger. Pay close attention to this experience.
You might start to notice that you feel shaky, or shut down, or hot, or numb. Or that you want
to run away, or not be talking right now. It’s just as important to be aware of these sensations
as we are of what we traditionally think of as our feelings, or emotions.

Let’s take the example of John and Mary, which goes as follows:

John has agreed to pick up Mary from a work drinks event and take her to a dinner with his
friends. He’s supposed to collect her at 7pm. At 6.55pm, she tells everyone she has to go, gets
ready and is expecting him. He doesn’t show up. There’s no call, no message, nothing. As
she’s waiting by the lobby of the bar, some of her colleagues leave together and comment
that they thought she’d left. They ask her if she’s OK. Mary smiles bravely and tells them that
everything’s fine. But inside she’s dying. She has no idea what’s going on and having played
it all cool, like she had to leave because she had another event to go to, now she’s the one
standing on her own looking foolish. It doesn’t help that one of the people passing her in the
lobby is her work nemesis! John finally turns up at 7.50pm. Mary is still waiting, but not
exactly pleased to see him. As he walks into the bar, all flustered, and greets her, she must
make a choice in what to say.

When talking about her triggers, Mary would respond well to this situation by saying:

‘When we agree to meet at 7pm and you show up at 7.50pm, that’s a trigger for me.’

In doing so, Mary makes her response about her and her own triggers, not about John. Mary
could add to the communication about the trigger by also including a good description of the
reaction.

John is late to pick up Mary at the bar and when he arrives she says, “when we agree to meet
at 7.00pm and you show up a 7.50pm that’s a trigger for me.” And then she adds, “and now I
notice that I feel very angry, upset, hurt, confused and scared. My stomach is tight, and
everything feels hot in my abdomen. I don’t feel safe.” We can see in this example that Mary
is ready for being triggered and has done some really good work on developing awareness of
herself. Before she had learned how to do that work, she might have just said,
“I feel terrible and I want to go”.

And that’s OK, too. As long as you are just trying to describe what you notice in your
reaction, it doesn’t really matter yet how well you do it. It just matters that you say something
about your reaction after identifying your trigger. This then sets you up to use the experience
productively for your nervous system.

You can download this post in a handy 2-page PDF to print and share with friends, family, clients or colleagues. Follow this link to download now.

You can buy a copy of The Invisible Lion now on kindle or paperback from your local Amazon store. Just click here to buy now.

Triggers and the Nervous System

Benjamin Fry — Wed, 15 Apr 2020 11:00:00 +0000

Life happens. And it can happen very suddenly. When events carry with them even a tiny
echo of something we haven’t yet finished reacting to, they become triggers. As triggers,
they arrive at our nervous system and hit our baggage. This typically sets off a reaction in
us, which can paradoxically sometimes be to have no obvious reaction at all. These reactions
then seem out of proportion to the original trigger, at least to someone who is unaware of our
baggage.

So to straighten all of this out for ourselves and for others we must first identify the trigger.
With a bit of practice we can get good at knowing that we have been triggered, becoming
aware of how reactive we are being, or how shut down we’re being. The question is when did
it start? What was the beginning of the trigger?

Often, we see this most clearly in how we want to react to another person. Being triggered
often makes us want to verbally abuse someone else or to never talk to them again because,
of course, we’re triggered. That’s the reaction taking over. Instead of doing this, our goal now
is to look at this reaction as if from outside of yourself and to talk through an objective
description of your own process.

It’s difficult, which is why it takes practice. The following formula is designed to guide you
in this practice. Remember, the goal is to open up a window into your nervous system so that
the other person can see all of you, not just what presents on the outside.

When you identify a trigger, you want to keep it as simple as you possibly can. One way to
think about it is:

· What did I see?

· What did I hear?

Try to answer these questions as if you were writing a film script to show the director what
action to film and which noise to record. This is important because most of the time, when we
are triggered, we want to focus on these other questions instead:

· Why the other person is an arsehole

· Why they are wrong

See the difference? All I want you to do is describe the trigger in the diagram below with
specific reference to an actual incident.

So we start with the green arrow, the trigger. It is not a judgement about another person. It is
not a character assassination. It is not forgiveness, either. It’s just a green arrow. Something
happened; an action or a sound or both. That’s it.

Your job, as you recalibrate your nervous system, is now to describe this diagram to yourself
or others with words that are about you, not about someone else. When you do this, you’re
finding a healthy way to talk about triggers. That also makes it safer for others too.

Let’s use an example to see how we can apply this technique in practice.

For Mary to appropriately address the situation, which of the following responses would you
recommend?

A. Hi.

B. Don’t you dare come near me!

C. Where the *@!% have you been?

D. (sobs) I’ve been so alone (sobs uncontrollably).

E. If you ever so much as think of trying to make another plan with me again, I will kill you.

F. When we agree to meet at 7pm and you show up at 7.50pm, that’s a trigger for me.

G. Let’s go. I don’t want to talk about it.

H. Don’t worry about being late. It’s really no big deal.

I. You are such a huge arsehole.

You can probably think of a few choice lines of your own too. It’s kind of satisfying, isn’t it?
Thinking about how to swing the verbal bat or how to squeeze every last ounce out of a guilt
trip, not to mention the pure twisted pleasure of a passive-aggressive attack of seething,
smiling rage is great fun. But none of it is going to benefit your nervous system.

Give yourself a big pat on the back if you went for F, because that’s the right answer. See
how simple it is.

You have to start to think about everything, first and foremost, from the point of view of the
nervous system. The diagram at the top of this blog should be your visual starting point whenever you feel uncomfortable. It should be in your mind’s eye all of the time.

That is why it is on the cover of this book. Use it. Memorise it. Commit this diagram to
memory and bring it up whenever something feels difficult. Then go find the green arrow.
It’s not always easy. This process can become highly subjective and often a bit confusing.
But if you hold onto the idea that you are painting a picture of the diagram above and that
your first job is to describe the green arrow, it gets much clearer. If instead you find yourself
judging or abusing someone, then you are not in the right place and it’s time to take a
moment, reset, and come back to the diagram above.

This diagram is so useful because it shows that the important person in the story is you. It is
not being caused by someone else. It is being caused by your experience; the sights, sounds,
smells, sensations that are arriving at your nervous system. Just describe these. Leave out the
temptation to judge everything which led up to it and attaching motivations to the people
involved.

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