Trauma’s hidden impact on self-awareness
The challenge, and for some, the danger, of slowing down and turning the spotlight of their attention inward are well-known phenomena for those with a trauma history.
Many forms of self-help, including the therapy process, encourage individuals to track what they are thinking, feeling and sensing in their body. Self-reflection of this kind is valuable and can lead to important insights and growth. However, connecting with oneself in this way isn’t easy for many, and for those with a history of childhood trauma, it may not only feel exceedingly challenging, it can also feel destabilizing.
Even when an adult works hard to compartmentalize or repress conscious awareness of traumatic experiences that occurred in childhood, the knowledge of the trauma remains. . .a buried mental and bodily knowing that can haunt the survivor. This haunting is not necessarily conscious; it often resides deep within, its shadow shaping how we relate to ourselves and others.
One fundamental impact of childhood trauma is how it hampers our ability to become aware, present and open to our self-experiences. And if we cannot be open to our own internal world, we cannot authentically be there for others.
Trauma’s legacy: The centrality of internal avoidance and compartmentalization
Many survivors of childhood trauma have overcome significant hurdles to build successful and meaningful lives. They may have worked through the impact and challenges of their traumatic past or they may have developed ways to compensate and adjust to its presence. In the latter case, positive life experiences may not have altered or erased certain effects of the trauma. Maybe there were work-arounds, self- and relational-alterations (intentional and unconscious) that have allowed internal distance from trauma’s impact so that life can move along like it should.
But to maintain this internal distance, one’s protective capacities must tirelessly work to keep traumatic memories locked away. One must also learn how to arrange their life in ways that enhance emotional safety while avoiding triggers.
Avoidance (staying unaware of one’s subjective emotional and bodily experiences) is often how this is accomplished. But we know it comes at a cost. Things start to break down, uncontrollable actions and reactions that are often unhealthy and destructive may be needed to keep the pain at bay, a pain that has not been relieved by the passage of time.
If the mind is a house with open living spaces that we have access to, the rooms in the basement are where the traumatic experiences are stored, with doors locked tightly to ensure psychological safety.
Compartmentalization is another common defensive strategy that the mind automatically uses to lock away painful experiences. If the mind is a house with open living spaces that we have access to, the rooms in the basement are where the traumatic experiences are stored, with doors locked tightly to ensure psychological safety. But for some, multiple barricaded rooms are needed to keep the terror and overwhelm hidden, and when this is the case, the access to our emotional living spaces shrinks and our inner world feels constricted and blunted.
The dilemma of trying to become self-aware
One common adaptation to traumatic events is how trauma—emotional, physical and sexual—causes us to prioritize safety later in life. A heightened vigilance becomes the norm, one that shapes our experience of life, ourselves, and how we show up in relationships. There may be conscious choices we make to avoid certain experiences, an alertness to negative possibilities directing us. Or there might be habitual defenses at play that steer us clear of anything that feels psychologically/emotionally risky.
As mentioned above, avoidance and compartmentalization of one’s psychological and emotional world are central ways to manage painful emotions and reach for safety. But what happens when the survivor of trauma and abuse does make the effort to look inward and step past the psychological No Trespassing sign that has been keeping them feeling safe for all those years?
What follows are several common reactions I’ve observed in my therapy practice over the years.
“Nothing to report here.”
“Every time you ask me to focus on my inner experiences it feels claustrophobic,” a client once shared. “Like I’m entering a tiny room with no lights or windows and the air is stale. . .why would I want to visit such a place?”
When some survivors of childhood trauma attempt to slow down and still themselves by noticing what they are experiencing in any given moment (what they are thinking, feeling or sensing in their body), there may be very little that is accessible. “There’s nothing, I don’t feel anything.”; “It’s quiet, I’m not thinking about anything.”
This can be quite frustrating since many self-help books and therapy modalities highlight the importance of looking within. And when there is “nothing to report here,” it can feel like hitting a dead end or a brick wall.
A lifetime of avoidance and dissociative compartmentalization designed to keep painful and overwhelming feelings, sensations and memories at bay allow only a small portion of the internal world to be accessible and known.
So much internally has been cordoned off to protect the survivor, leaving only a fraction of inner experience accessible. As a result, attempts to become aware of what is occurring internally/emotionally can be frustrating and can feel useless when these efforts seem to repeatedly lead to psychological dead ends.
“It’s really uncomfortable, I feel uneasy.”
“There’s an undercurrent of energy that I notice. To be honest, it’s really unsettling and hard to stay with.”
For others who attempt to explore their inner world, a physical/emotional restlessness and uneasiness awaits. This discomfort/anxiety may be immediately apparent, or emerge slowly as you try to remain still. Some notice physical reactions, a leg shaking, shallow breathing or physical tension or a tightness in a particular region of their body.
It can be difficult to focus, your mind flitting back and forth, unable to settle on any one area. This struggle to focus appears similar to attention deficit, but it is different in a significant way: an undercurrent of anxious energy is the driver of this lack of focus, making the subjective experience uncomfortable and uninviting. This emotional unease isn’t the intensity of an open flame—it’s more like a match that’s just been blown out, the tip still hot enough to sting if you touch it.
Focus and attention is frequently diverted away from these inner experiences to the external world. Activities, staying in motion or repeatedly losing oneself online gives just enough distance from what is right below the surface of awareness.
Not surprisingly, when being with oneself in this way typically brings discomfort, it is easy to conclude that “I’m just no good at meditation…” Or “This is such a waste of time…I’m a doer, so I can’t sit still.” This is the “fidgety” person, the one who gets bored easily—the person who has come to rely on different ways to stay disconnected from themselves.
When the grip of trauma is close at hand
“I’ve been tracking my anxiety like you suggested,” a client shared. “And my panic attacks seem to happen mostly after I wake up or before bedtime after I put my phone down and try to fall asleep. I remember this happening to me when I was really young. It was terrible, but I was afraid to tell anyone. I learned that if I read before bed until I was exhausted and couldn’t stay awake any longer, I could avoid the anxiety and get some sleep.”
Not everyone is able to successfully lock away and keep distance from the long arm of childhood trauma. The quiet and stillness that can bring calm and grounding for some can instead evoke sensations, feelings and memories that feel unsafe and disorienting for some survivors of abuse. Anxiety can ramp up, a warning as if some protective part of you is screaming, “Don’t look here; go somewhere else!”
In these moments of self-examination, perception itself can shift, making you feel unreal, dreamlike. Your body may not feel like your own; it might react with the same fear and dissociation it once held during the trauma. Here introspection can feel like being dropped into the center of a nightmare you must escape, every fiber of your being prompting you to find safe ground. Anxiety and panic attacks may occur.
When the inner world edges closer to conscious awareness, dissociative defenses often mobilize to soften the impact. You might suddenly feel sleepy or detached, reality taking on a dreamlike quality. Numbness and mental shutdown are other protective resources the mind uses to combat this degree of psychological/emotional overwhelm.
Certain triggers may cause a flooding of images, sensations and emotions associated with the buried trauma. In this moment little can be hidden from awareness; the door to the internalized trauma has been blown open. Many aren’t sure what is happening to them. They may feel waves of dread or panic, or they may feel unsettled in some way that is frightening, not realizing something from their past is creeping into the present.
In these instances, some trauma survivors may deploy desperate means to escape what they are now faced with. They might turn to drugs, overeating, alcohol, pornography, self-injury—some action taken that can quickly dampen what is occurring.
In these instances, some trauma survivors may deploy desperate means to escape what they are now faced with. They might turn to drugs, overeating, alcohol, pornography, self-injury—some action taken that can quickly dampen what is occurring. Others may work tirelessly to stay ahead of this traumatic remembering/reliving, a constant sprint designed to keep them one step ahead of this intense wave of sensations and feelings.
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You can see how past childhood wounds can lead to the reliance of psychological defenses like avoidance and dissociative compartmentalization to keep us disconnected from ourselves, blocking self-awareness and a deeper inner connection to our emotional lives. Here attempts to find some semblance of safety from the frightening overwhelm of our past is what’s at play.
Even if what is being relied upon to keep us safe is damaging (to ourselves and others), it is what we’ve learned and come to rely upon, an “old friend” of sorts that can give us just enough relief so that we do not have to face and relive the trauma of our past.
When avoidance and compartmentalization are over-relied upon, however, life is spent keeping away from the parts of oneself that still hold the emotional weight of past traumatic events, an ongoing self-estrangement to avoid remembering and reliving what is an unthinkable reality. The paradox is that these parts of us do need our attention for healing to occur.
It’s a truism in psychology that avoidance and compartmentalization keep our trauma buried, yet alive. While facing these inner truths can be painful, healing is possible. There are therapies specifically designed to help trauma survivors develop the self-capacities needed to gradually open the doors that have kept their pain locked away. As these doors start to open, we can begin offering these wounded parts what they’ve long needed, allowing them to finally release what they’ve been holding. When this occurs, the inner spaces of our emotional life start to feel more open, alive, and welcoming.
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Rich Nicastro, PhD, is a clinical psychologist with over 25 years of experience supporting individuals and couples as they navigate betrayal trauma and other emotional challenges. He offers teletherapy to clients throughout the United States. To work with Dr. Nicastro and join his waiting list, please email him at Rich@RichardNicastro.com.
