The Hidden Trauma Symptom That’s Sabotaging Your Life

There’s one major consequence of trauma that most people aren’t aware of. It’s powerful and can seriously limit your life. While it isn’t exclusive to trauma, it’s almost always present in people who were traumatized as children. It underlies nearly every other symptom of trauma — which means until you can spot and heal this core issue, changing the other symptoms will be difficult. And yet many have never heard of it. The term is neurological dysregulation. Once you understand it, the chances of recovery and meaningful change increase dramatically. Ignorance of this condition helps explain why people raised with neglect and abuse often stall in their healing.
For decades, people assumed trauma wounds were mainly psychological — emotional, behavioral, or shaped by culture. Those aspects are real, but research now shows the primary injury is neurological — rooted in the nervous system. What does that mean in practice? Early trauma disturbs the brain and nervous system, which can set off a wide range of health and behavioral problems — everything from obesity and ADHD to heart disease and addiction. These issues can occur in anyone, but they’re much more common in people who were traumatized.
For those with childhood PTSD, being in a dysregulated state is itself disabling, making ordinary activities unreasonably difficult: reading a book, spending time alone, arriving on time, voicing an opinion, or coping with feeling excluded — any of these can trigger dysregulation. If you could see an MRI of a brain in this state, the left frontal cortex would look dim and underactive, undermining reasoning and attention. Meanwhile, the right frontal cortex might be hyperactive — a surge of emotion. So reasoning becomes muted while emotional reactivity skyrockets, making it hard to process thoughts and feelings. The result is a sense of being overwhelmed, as pressure builds internally. Sound familiar? It’s not just “an emotional reaction” — it’s a change in brain function. Brainwaves become erratic. Breathing and heart rhythms fall out of sync. You may lose sensation in your hands, feel numb in your face, notice clumsiness in your feet, or have trouble finding words, finishing tasks, or focusing.
When I’m dysregulated, I become clumsy: I trip on curbs, drop things, and my handwriting shifts. Many of us say things we don’t mean while dysregulating; we act in ways we later regret, almost as if partly unconscious and lacking the clear thinking to refuse or choose better. Others grow quiet and withdrawn, or feel frantic and act impulsively, or erupt in rage and lash out. After such an outburst, emotion can go flat. Sometimes we even seem cold to the people we’ve hurt — our facial expression blank. A friend once told me, “When you’re upset, your face goes flat.” To outsiders it looks like indifference. If someone tells me, “Anna, something terrible has happened,” I might just say, “Oh,” and they assume I don’t care — when in truth I do, perhaps too much. In deep shame or humiliation, my face can stop revealing what I feel. Do you recognize any of this? It makes connection and problem solving with others difficult.
Crucially, these reactions aren’t evidence you’re bad, selfish, or weak. They’re driven — or amplified — by a dysregulated nervous system. This wasn’t widely known before; not doctors, not therapists, really understood it. Now we do. The hiddenness of dysregulation can be a double-edged sword: it’s helpful because you can sometimes keep appearances and not have everyone witness it, but harmful because others can’t see your struggle, so you may hide your feelings and enter a pattern where everyone assumes you’re okay and you act like you are. Have you ever had to rehearse a facial expression in your head to appear appropriate in a strange situation? When dysregulated, it’s hard even to hear what’s being said, never mind decide how to behave.
Dysregulation gets triggered by stress and crises. Remember: it can suppress reasoning while intensifying emotions. This explains why many of us with childhood PTSD seem to repeat the same bad choices despite our sincere intentions to change. We mean it, but then dysregulation pushes us back into old patterns. The good news: you can break that cycle. You are capable of making better decisions and changing your life. It becomes much easier when you learn to reregulate.
How do you tell when dysregulation is happening? First, notice what regulated feels like: even brain activity that guides body responses and emotions in a steady, predictable way. Dysregulation feels different — like a chemical storm surging through your body. For some it resembles the early warning of a migraine, that moment when you know it’s coming and can’t stop it; for others it’s akin to the sense one might imagine before a seizure, a rising wave in the nervous system ready to take over. Your thinking shifts and you may react: withdraw, go silent, become confused and blurt, or panic. In those moments perception is impaired — you might misread whether another person is angry or safe, or whether your words and actions suit the moment. Often it isn’t until days later that you see clearly what actually occurred.
The key to catching dysregulation is to learn its personal signs, which vary. Clues include feeling spaced out, being at a loss for words, not knowing where you are, feeling scattered and juggling tasks without finishing any, tripping or dropping things, losing keys or a purse, a flat voice or expression, sudden rage, urgent need to express yourself, numbness in parts of the body (hands, face, nose, feet), or an initial flood of intense emotion from something said or done. Sometimes no obvious external trigger exists; hormones, exhaustion, or even waking in the morning can set it off. We call the activating event a trigger — not just the common usage of being “upset,” but something that provokes neurological dysregulation.
So what to do — how do you reregulate quickly and then remain regulated? Step one: notice you’re dysregulated. If you can do that, you can stop short of saying or doing things that harm you or others, and buy time to recover. Ask yourself: Am I flooding with emotion? Going numb? Tell yourself, “I’m getting dysregulated.” Step two: put safety first. Don’t drive if you feel out of control — pull over until you settle. Don’t operate heavy machinery or run across a street. Focus on getting to a physically safe place where you can pause and reregulate. Step three: if you are facing immediate physical danger, prioritize getting to safety however you can; other techniques may not apply in that situation. Step four: if an argument triggered you, avoid escalating it. Use gentle words to pause the interaction: “I want to continue this conversation, but I need a break to calm down.” If you prefer not to disclose that you’re triggered, say you need the bathroom, or that another call is coming in, and call back later. Talking about the issue while flooded can intensify dysregulation, so simply pause the conversation.
I’ve created a free short daily-practice course that teaches two easy techniques to calm the storm when you’re triggered. It’s brief but potent and helps you feel clearer, more focused, and calmer quickly. Click the second link in the description below or use the QR code shown to start right away. Step six: buy yourself time. If possible, separate from the other person. Go to another room, the restroom, or your car — nobody needs to know. If you feel an urge to lash out, wait longer before attempting to resolve anything. Step seven: a quick grounding trick is to stamp your feet on the floor. It’s surprisingly effective at bringing you into your body and the present. As you stamp, quietly say “right, left, right, left” to help your brain begin to calm. Step eight: take ten deep breaths, emphasizing the exhale if that feels helpful — that often activates the parasympathetic nervous system. Step nine: press your tongue to the back of your teeth; it’s a subtle bodily cue that can help you reconnect. Similarly, sit and feel your weight in the chair to anchor yourself into your body.
Step 11: sometimes food helps — although stress often triggers cravings for carbs and sugar, protein-rich foods are more grounding. Drink some water. Step 12: washing your hands and feeling warm water and soap can be soothing. Step 13: if a trusted friend is present, a firm squeeze-hug helps regulate the brain; if not, press your back into a corner wall and wrap your arms around yourself to feel pressure across the torso. Our biology calms down when we feel held. Those are a number of tools you can reach for when you notice dysregulation; at the end of this video there’s a download with these tips written out so you can keep them handy.
People often ask whether medication helps with dysregulation. The research is mixed. Because we now see many childhood PTSD symptoms as stemming from brain dysregulation rather than a simple chemical imbalance, some medications may do more harm than good by interfering with the brain’s natural ability to reregulate after dysregulation. Everyone gets dysregulated sometimes and usually reregulates. With complex PTSD, dysregulation occurs more frequently and lasts longer. The aim is to learn to reregulate quickly and to remain regulated more of the time. That’s the first part of healing. The second part, once your mind is fresh and regulated, is to address the behaviors and life circumstances that developed while you were frequently dysregulated — the trauma-driven habits and self-defeating patterns that keep you stuck today. That’s the core of what I teach in courses, coaching, and in my upcoming book: learn to reregulate your brain and emotions. Acknowledging the past and getting support matters, but the real work of healing is tackling the present-day problems that hold you back so you can grow into your true self. You were meant for more than ongoing struggle, and mastering reregulation opens space in your life for possibilities: meeting new people, trying new things, leaving what doesn’t serve you, and making a positive difference. Happiness grows from those choices — and they become easier when you can reregulate. You can do what you love. You can choose where to focus your attention. That’s a better way to live.
If you’re struggling emotionally right now — angry, sad, scared, overwhelmed — I have a technique I can teach you in about 15 minutes that will reduce the intensity of those emotions so you have more room to think and decide. I won’t make every problem disappear, but I can help you lower the intensity of your thoughts so you have more comfort and clarity to act. This video covers the foundational technique from my free online course; I’m sharing it here because many people need it.
Here’s the writing practice. Grab paper and a pen. I’ll invite you to write out your fears and resentments using this simple format. Start with the phrase “I have fear…” and finish the sentence with the first worry that comes to mind — don’t dig into the past, just whatever is occupying your thoughts now. For demonstration, I’ll invent an example: “I have fear that the neighbor graffitied my wall.” Spend a moment with that and ask what that fear leads to: fear he won’t own up; fear he hates me; fear all the neighbors dislike me; fear the landlord will charge me; fear this always happens to me — that kind of chain reaction. That first fear often opens a cascade of six or seven related fears.
You may notice resentment too. Using the same example: “I’m resentful at the neighbor across the street.” Instead of immediately explaining why, write it as fear-based statements: “I have fear she’s chummy with the neighbor,” “I have fear they hang out and exclude me,” “I have fear they talk about me behind my back.” Keep writing — this is quick, messy, not neat columns. Spend 10–15 minutes if you can, longer if needed, until you feel some relief. Sometimes people need many pages; I’ve had 20-page sessions when something intense was underneath my distress. Those long sessions can be very freeing because you excavate what’s beneath the surface.
Your fears may be dramatic — “I have fear I have cancer” — or trivial — “I have fear I’ve run out of lettuce.” You might be resentful at a partner who didn’t buy lettuce. Both kinds of thoughts are valid material for this practice; they’re all fodder to get free. The metaphor I often use is wet leaves stuck to a windshield on a rainy autumn day: fearful and resentful thoughts arrive naturally, but when they cling they obscure your view. Writing is like stepping out and peeling off those leaves until your windshield is clearer. You aren’t analyzing them or archiving them; you’re clearing them away.
Once you’ve poured the thoughts onto paper and feel some relief, sign off. Depending on your belief system this might be a prayer asking God to remove them or a secular intention to release them. An example non-religious sign-off: “I am now ready and sincerely intend to release these fears and resentments. I seek only to know my next steps and to be strong enough to carry them out. Love, [your name].” A faith-based version might read: “I am now ready and ask that you, God, remove these fears and resentments. I ask only for knowledge of your will for us and the power to carry it out. Love, Anna.” I’ve done this twice daily for 27 years, with gaps here and there. I spent two years away from it and then noticed how much better I functioned when I returned — my thinking was clearer, my confidence higher, and my PTSD symptoms affected me less.
I didn’t have a name for my symptoms when I was young — the disorientation, overreacting emotionally, spacing out, memory problems — that’s dysregulation. It’s common after abuse and neglect in childhood and can be misdiagnosed as learning disability or ADHD when the core is actually complex PTSD from chronic stress. Until recently, there wasn’t a clear label or good solution. If you’ve sought help for PTSD you may have been advised to talk about the trauma, but for many of us rehashing it verbally is retraumatizing. I spent years in therapy leaving sessions so dysregulated I could barely write a check. The writing practice I learned offered a different pathway: writing uses a different neural route than talking and is far less triggering for many people. You can write what happened and, if you choose, later read it to someone. When you aren’t triggered, you can make more sensible plans and decisions — things that are nearly impossible in a dysregulated state.
If this resonates, try the technique and consider the quizzes linked below: “Are you dysregulated?” and “Do you have complex PTSD?” They’ll help you see whether these experiences fit you. The only way to know if the writing practice helps is to try it. To make it easier, I prepared a PDF with the instructions plus a short meditation to rest after writing so you can release the distress and restore calm. Getting those troubling thoughts onto paper, then resting in meditation, can bring surprising clarity. When you’re clearer and calmer, you can take productive action to change your life.
People ask what to do with the paper after writing. Two options: throw it away (my usual recommendation) — shred it or soak it — don’t leave it where others can read your raw, honest thoughts. This isn’t a journal to keep or a record to be reread; it’s trashing what clogs your mind. Use scrap paper, not a fancy journal; this isn’t a record of events but a clearing exercise — like sweeping up toenail clippings and tossing them.
A common life situation where trauma patterns play out is staying in breadcrumb relationships — connections where someone gives just enough attention to keep you hooked but not enough to be nurturing. Ending those relationships takes strength, and the timing can feel especially hard during a crisis. A reader named “Marca” wrote in about boundary issues with an ex while she’s undergoing treatment for stage 2 breast cancer. Her childhood included an abusive stepfather, a distant grandmother who idolized men, and a workaholic, unaffectionate mother. She felt unloved as a child, had a baby at 19, and was abandoned by the child’s father. Years later she fell for someone who wasn’t her boyfriend and got her heart broken, which paradoxically began her personal-growth journey. She describes being codependent, needy, jealous, anxious — patterns of feeling unworthy of love. After years of cutting family off and masking pain, she had reached a healthier place when the cancer diagnosis hit. She reconnected with her mother, who surprisingly has been warm and supportive. The man she still loves returned but offers little support or affection beyond sex, leaving her feeling labeled “friend with benefits.” She’s proud of her approach to treatment and healing, but ashamed she can’t cut this man off despite knowing he doesn’t see a shared future. She asks why she obsesses and stays.
Here’s the short answer: you’re allowed to keep what serves you during an illness, but this man is a toxic distraction undermining your integrity. Often people hang on to dysfunctional relationships out of need for some semblance of love. As children we learned to “fit ourselves to crap” — to adapt to unacceptable situations to survive. That survival skill can become harmful when carried into adulthood. You deserve people who bring food, comfort, help, and care when you’re facing chemo or hospital trips — not someone who drops by for sex and leaves. Cancer treatment demands strength on many levels, and healing trauma supports your best physical and emotional resilience. Reuniting with your mother may be a rare gift — a chance to receive the love you didn’t get before — but proceed gently and allow it to unfold naturally.
I encourage you to let that relationship with the man go. Holding on costs your dignity and feeds shame, which is corrosive to healing. Shame often follows actions that conflict with our values; by aligning your behavior with your values you restore energy and integrity that aid recovery. Please keep us updated on how you’re doing. Big changes — like ending a toxic relationship while dealing with illness and reestablishing family ties — stir up many emotions; now is the time to support yourself with regular ways to process feelings so you can remain steady without shutting down or self-medicating.
A parenting example underscores how dysregulation affects behavior and how to respond. When my son was three, I unintentionally hurt his elbow in public. This story illustrates parenting under dysregulation and a strategy to help both parent and child reregulate. We were on BART at rush hour; he screamed for others to give up their seats and would not stop. I felt mortified; I tried raisins, stories, and shushing, but he flung himself to the floor kicking and screaming. Overwhelmed and carrying a heavy backpack, I grabbed his hand and yanked him to his feet on the way home. Later, dinner revealed he wasn’t using his arm; at the ER the pediatrician asked if anyone had swung him or yanked his arm. I confessed and learned it was a common “nursemaid’s elbow” that could be corrected gently. I left that night ashamed but grateful for a way to fix it and began to look at discipline and my own reactivity.
A parenting method called One Two Three Magic helped me. The approach is simple: give a clear command (“Stand here quietly”), count plainly (“One, two, three”), and follow through with a pre-planned consequence if the child doesn’t comply. Avoid yelling and rolling explanations in the moment; those escalate everyone. Think consequences through in advance so you can enforce them calmly. Consistent discipline gives children secure boundaries and helps parents feel more confident and less stressed. I once used this when my son threw a tantrum in a long line for a movie; I counted to three and followed through by returning the tickets. He was shocked, begged to go back in, and by the time we reached home had already moved on. After that, I rarely had to count to three again.
I’ll leave you with the reminder that these practical tools — noticing dysregulation, using grounding tactics, writing to clear fears and resentments, practicing consistent boundaries — can give you far more choice and freedom in life. Use the resources linked below, and I’ll see you soon. [Music]