The Hidden Ways Trauma Shows Up in Everyday Life
When I’m in the passenger seat of a car and traffic slows, my foot instinctively presses down on an imaginary brake. It’s automatic — my body trying to take control where I actually have none. Call it backseat driving if you want. Maybe one day I’ll be that mom nervously coaching her teenager from the passenger side. But I also know exactly where this reaction comes from.
When I was fourteen, riding the bus to a soccer game, our driver didn’t slow down in time. We slammed into the back of a semi. No one was hurt, but the jolt — the sudden, helpless moment when everything stopped — left its mark. That feeling of not being in control has never fully left me.
That’s the thing about trauma. It doesn’t just live in the big, dramatic moments we think of. It hides in plain sight, stitched into the fabric of everyday life. It lingers in reflexes, habits, and patterns that seem small until you trace them back to where they began.
What Trauma Really Is
Trauma isn’t only abuse, violence, or life-threatening events. It can be subtle. Cumulative. Invisible. The nervous system doesn’t distinguish between a car crash and emotional neglect; it only remembers what felt unsafe.
At its core, trauma is anything that overwhelms our capacity to cope and leaves a lasting imprint on how we experience the world — and ourselves.
You might think, Sure, I’ve got trauma. Doesn’t everyone? Or maybe you’re realizing for the first time, Oh. I’ve been through more than I thought.
Wherever you land, here’s the truth: you can’t change what happened. But you can change how you respond now — and that is where your power lives.
The Gift of Noticing
Over time, I’ve gotten better at noticing my own patterns. And when I notice, my recovery time shortens. Things that once spiraled me into anxiety or shutdown no longer hold the same grip.
Through therapy, somatic work, and reflection, I began to see not just whathappened to me, but how it shaped my behaviors, beliefs, and boundaries. One practice, in particular, shifted everything.
My therapist asked me to re-imagine certain memories — to feel them in my body, notice the emotions they carried, and return to them again and again. Not to relive them, but to reclaim them.
Slowly, the emotional charge softened. I began to see those moments clearly, not through the distorted lens of guilt or shame, but with truth and compassion. I left those sessions lighter, more grounded, able to say: I did the best I could. I am not responsible for others’ choices. And I get to choose how I move forward.
Healing as Rewiring
My body still reacts. My heart races at raised voices. My shoulders tense at familiar patterns. The muscles above my eyebrows tighten with reminders of the past. But now, I meet those sensations with awareness — not judgment.
I’ve learned to pause. To re-orient myself to the present. To ground in gratitude. Healing isn’t about erasing the past — it’s about rewiring the nervous system so it no longer dictates the future.
When I look back at the 22-year-old version of myself, I feel so much pride. She didn’t know then what she knows now. But she kept going. She kept listening. She kept choosing growth.
What Are You Still Carrying?
Each of us has the chance to ask:
What survival skills became habits I no longer need?
What patterns am I clinging to, even though they hurt?
What cycles might I be passing on to the next generation?
The ability to feel safe in your own body and mind is one of the most undervalued assets in life. Don’t wait to reclaim it. Your future self is depending on you.
A Final Word
I don’t share this because I’ve figured it all out. I share it because I’m still living it. I’ve learned that my trauma responses were once protective, but they no longer serve me. I can finally see myself not through the lens of chaos, but through the lens of courage.
Our nervous systems work overtime to keep us safe. But they need support. You need support.
So start small. One pattern. One reaction. One moment where your body over-responds. Ask yourself: What is this protecting me from? Is it still necessary?
This is how cycles break — not all at once, but breath by breath. Boundary by boundary. Truth by truth.