
Lately, I’ve been noticing how easy it is for me to slip back into survival mode, even when things are mostly fine.
I can be doing all the right things — therapy, journaling, movement, breathing, the whole routine — and still feel like my body is quietly bracing for something. It’s not because I’m doing anything wrong. It’s just that some of the ways I try to cope end up feeding the same stress response I’m trying to calm.
Here are a few sneaky ones I’ve caught myself in lately.
It usually starts with “just five minutes.” I’m tired, I want to switch off, and suddenly it’s midnight and I’ve watched seventeen crises, three arguments, and at least one strangely intense cooking video (have you seen the one where the guy is sensually cooking - like what is happening?).
My body doesn’t care that it’s happening on a screen. My brain registers what I’m seeing as real and reacts as if I’m in the middle of it. Adrenaline, cortisol, heart rate up, muscles tensing.
If you’ve lived through trauma, you probably know this feeling: that familiar rush of alertness, like something’s wrong even though nothing is happening.
I always tell myself scrolling will help me relax, turn my brain off, but it does the exact opposite.
I’ve been good at staying busy for most of my life. Movement and productivity (hello workaholic me) used to make me feel safe. If I kept going, I didn’t have to slow down long enough to feel what was underneath.
I also loveeee coffee. Start with the morning smell and the kick it gives you to start the day. then the 10am, the after lunch, the 4pm and then why not, a little night cap? WAYYY tooo much coffee. i've slowed down lately as I've noticed (and read) that caffeine and constant motion are a perfect storm.
Coffee gives me that fake sense of control, but what it’s really doing is pushing my adrenals to pump out more adrenaline. Add a packed schedule to that and my nervous system never gets the message that it’s safe to stop.
It looks like energy, but it’s survival mode in disguise.
I love moving my body (daily yoga, trained for semi-marathons, reformer pilates 3x/week, long walks, swim...), but there have been seasons where workouts became another way to outrun myself. High intensity, no rest days, just pushing through.
Exercise naturally raises stress hormones so the body can adapt, but when my system is already running hot, that extra stimulation just keeps me stuck in fight-or-flight. I feel strong in the moment, but later I crash hard. My muscles stay tight, my energy disappears, and rest never feels like enough.
I’ve learned (and am still learning, painfully so) that healing trauma isn’t about making myself relax. It’s about showing my body that it’s safe enough to let go.
That’s where somatic work has changed everything for me (at least most of the time).
Simple things that sound almost too small to matter:
These little practices teach my body what my mind sometimes forgets: the danger has passed.
My symptoms aren’t proof that I’m broken. They’re signals from a body that hasn’t yet realized it doesn’t have to protect me anymore.
So I’m learning to listen. To soften instead of fix. To rest, not because I’ve earned it, but because I finally understand. It gets easier with time!


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