Last week, something happened that really unsettled me. Actually, unsettled is not the right word, as it was a PTSD attack. I went into complete freeze mode and could not move. The hardest part was that when well-meaning people tried to check on me and offer support, the freeze response got even worse. I could see my phone ringing and I could hear it, but I could not answer the call. I could hear people outside my door, trying to reach me, but I struggled to speak or engage. It was like everything around me slowly zoned out. All I wanted to do was hide, and it felt like my body was convinced there was danger, even though my mind knew I was safe. I often react like this when someone turns up unannounced.

Even this morning, a family member popped by unexpectedly just to drop off some snacks (every Asian will know this is one of our biggest love languages!), but I could not go to the door. I had a very similar reaction to what happened last week and I absolutely hate unannounced visits. That is one of the things I really appreciate about my best friend, who has has always texted me to say she is outside before knocking. She has done this consistently for the 10+ years I have known her, and it is one of those small things that has always made me feel incredibly safe with her. The funny thing is, I never asked her to do it but she just somehow knew.

Looking back, I realise she was doing something incredibly trauma-informed without even knowing it. She was giving my nervous system predictability, choice and time to prepare, and it is those small acts of consideration that can make a huge difference to someone living with trauma. It reminded me how important it is to build a support network of people who help you feel safe in their own ways. That does not mean everyone in your life will be trauma-informed or instinctively know exactly what you need and most people won’t, and that is okay as we are not looking for perfection. Instead, we are looking for people who are willing to be kind, considerate and open to understanding us.

In fact, one thing I have noticed, both from my own healing journey and in my work with trauma survivors, is that trauma can sometimes leave us with very rigid ideas about what safety should look like, such as believing that safety should mean certainty and consistency. I know that because I used to be like that myself. For example, when I was younger, if someone did not respond in exactly the way I needed, it could feel incredibly painful, and my instinct was to pull away completely because the relationship itself no longer felt safe.

Looking back, with time and healing, I can see that my nervous system was not trying to be difficult but was trying to protect me. I have also learned that there is a difference between someone who is unsafe and someone who is simply human. As I have healed, I have learned to distinguish between people who repeatedly violate my boundaries and people who genuinely care but will not always get it right.

It does make sense thought that after being hurt so many times, it is understandable that we long for people who get it right every single time, and when they don’t, it can feel deeply painful, and our instinct may be to withdraw completely or end the relationship. Of course, there are times when stepping away is absolutely the healthiest choice, especially if someone repeatedly dismisses our boundaries or makes us feel unsafe, but sometimes the people who love us will get it wrong because they are human, not because they don’t care.

I have learned that the people worth holding onto are often the ones who are willing to listen, learn and adjust. They may not always respond perfectly, but they respond with care. They apologise when needed, they try again and over time they become part of the safety we have been missing. As trauma survivors, I think it is important that we allow room for both things to be true, such as we deserve relationships where we feel safe, and we also benefit from having realistic expectations of imperfect people who genuinely want to support us. This perspective, to me, is a sign of progress.

This reminded me of something else that has always stayed with me came from my Sensorimotor Psychotherapy training. One of the trainers, Tony Buckley, explained that, very often, trauma can leave us at one of two extremes when it comes to boundaries. We might have very few boundaries at all, or we might develop very rigid ones as our nervous system tries to keep us safe. One way he described post-traumatic healing was not as having stronger or weaker boundaries, but more flexible ones. In other words, boundaries that can adapt to the situation and the person in front of us, rather than assuming everyone is either completely safe or completely unsafe. That perspective has stayed with me because it helped me realise that healing is not about lowering our standards or tolerating unhealthy behaviour. It is about developing the flexibility to recognise when someone is genuinely unsafe and when someone is simply an imperfect human who is willing to listen, learn and do better.

Anyway, back to last week. In that moment, it felt like forever, but when I was finally able to check my phone and communicate again, I realised the whole episode had only lasted about 10 minutes. After around 30 minutes, I was actually laughing and engaging in conversations, and, where in the past this could be a type of masking, whereas this time I was genuinely OK. The reason I am sharing about my PTSD attack is not to sit in victimhood or to ask for sympathy, but instead I am sharing it because I want you, especially if you are a trauma survivor, to know that healing is not linear and post-traumatic recovery is messy, so you have nothing to be ashamed of when old triggers resurface.

Sometimes we think we have got everything under control, and then a trigger appears out of nowhere and reminds us that healing does not happen in a straight line. I have actually worked on this particular trigger and the traumatic events connected to it several times through EMDR and talking therapy. Would I say those therapies did not work? Absolutely not, they worked. The difference is that this response lasted around 10 minutes, whereas before therapy, it would have dysregulated my nervous system for days, so to me, that is progress.

At the same time, I also want to be careful not to imply that your recovery should or would look like mine. Healing is deeply personal, and no two nervous systems respond in exactly the same way. For some people, five minutes might feel impossible right now. For others, recovery may take longer, look different, or come in ways they never expected. None of that means you are failing, but it simply means that you are not on your own path.

The trigger still exists because what happened to me in the past was traumatic. Our brains and bodies are designed to protect us and they don’t always distinguish between real danger and remembered danger, so sometimes they react first and ask questions later. This is something I try to compassionately remind clients of too.

For those who support trauma survivors, whether you are a therapist, coach, healthcare professional, employer, friend or family member, please remember that what looks like someone ignoring you, withdrawing or not wanting help may actually be a nervous system in survival mode. In those moments, compassion, patience and predictability often help far more than pressure or urgency. The latter can make them go deeper into survival mode, which on the surface would look like even more withdrawal.

While it can feel incredibly frustrating when old triggers resurface, I have learned not to see them as failure anymore, but instead as information that my nervous system still needs compassion, patience and a reminder that I am safe.

I would end this blog with something I often tell clients, which is that healing is not about never being triggered again, but sometimes measured by how quickly you come back to yourself and other times, it is about recognising with self-compassion and kindness what is happening instead of believing you are broken.

If you are reading this and you have ever felt discouraged because an old trigger resurfaced, please don’t let it convince you that you have gone backwards, as you have not. Recovery is not about erasing the past but building a nervous system that can find its way back to safety, one moment at a time, and if today feels messy, that is okay too as you are still healing.

What helps your nervous system feel just a little bit safer? It might be a person, a place, a routine or a small act of kindness. One of the first steps of healing begins by noticing what already helps.

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