Relearning Somatic Safety in Stillness
Many people who have lived through trauma or long stretches of stress yearn for calm, yet when it finally arrives, for some people, it can feel anything but peaceful. The body that once longed for rest suddenly stiffens. The mind begins to search for what might go wrong next. It can feel confusing, discouraging, but this response isn’t resistance, it’s memories that are locked in the body and mind axis.
Under prolonged stress, the amygdala, that small almond-shaped structure deep in the brain, learns to keep its guard up. It scans the environment for danger long after the threat has passed. The autonomic nervous system, which normally balances alertness and relaxation, becomes accustomed to operating in survival mode. The body, in turn, begins to mistake tension and hyperawareness for safety because, once upon a time, staying alert really did keep us safe.
When this pattern persists, the sympathetic system, responsible for fight or flight, remains switched on even in moments that appear calm. The vagus nerve, which ordinarily helps us rest, connect, and digest, starts to interpret stillness as exposure.
In daily life, this can feel like always being in cycles of overwhelm and exhaustion. One part of you might catch yourself waiting for the other shoe to drop when everything seems fine and then rest may feel strange or undeserved. Productivity can become a safe haven; stillness and calm, triggers. These patterns are not personal failings. They are the body’s clever and outdated attempts at protection.
Restoring Trust in the Calm
Relearning that calm and connection can coexist takes time. The body needs patience more than persuasion. Healing is not about forcing yourself to relax; it’s about helping the nervous system rediscover that stillness can be safe.
A gentle way to begin is through interoceptive awareness, the simple act of noticing sensations instead of analyzing them. Ask yourself, “What am I feeling in my body right now?” Maybe it’s the weight of your feet pressing into the floor, the rise and fall of your breath, or the way your shoulders meet the air. When you name these small sensations, your body begins to recognize that the present moment tensions may not be a threat.
You might also practice pendulation, the natural rhythm between movement and stillness. Take a short walk, stretch, or tidy a corner of your space, and then pause. Notice what shifts. This ebb and flow teaches the nervous system that slowing down is not the same as losing control. It is simply another form of safety.
Co-regulation can be equally powerful. Spend time with people, animals, or natural spaces that feel steady. The nervous system learns through proximity; calm is contagious. Sometimes, safety is remembered in the quiet presence of another breathing being.
Somatic resourcing, can also be deeply grounding. Place a hand over your heart or your belly. Breathe slowly in through your nose and long exhales out through your mouth. Feel the support of the chair, the floor, the earth beneath you. Think of a time when you felt happy and peaceful. Feel the warmth of that memory in your body.
You can also try asking yourself, “What part of me believes stillness isn’t safe?” You might find that the answer comes from a younger version of you, one who learned that constant vigilance of your environment was what you needed to be safe in your childhood. Meet that part with warmth and compassion. You don’t have to convince it. Just let it know you’re listening and that it can relax a bit.
The body carries wisdom that once kept you safe. Healing is not about erasing that wisdom, but about integrating and teaching it a new language, one where stillness and calm no longer mean danger and connection no longer costs safety.
Lastly, searching out a therapist that works with trauma can help you begin to trust stillness again, through techniques like EMDR or somatic psychotherapy you can begin to find more internal balance. You deserve to feel restored and at ease.
Wishing you all good things,
Andrew