Sometimes we hear ourselves say things we didn’t mean. Or we shut down just when we most want to be heard. Afterward, we’re left trying to make sense of it—wondering, Why did I react like that? What just happened?
For those of us with trauma histories, these moments of miscommunication often carry an old, familiar weight. We may not realize it in the moment, but what’s unfolding is often less about what was said—and more about what was felt, remembered, or feared. Our nervous system registers threat, even if the danger isn’t visible.
It’s not always that we’re “bad at communication.” Often, it’s our trauma doing the talking. We find ourselves in a protective state—trying to control for the worst imagined outcome, rather than moving toward collaboration or connection.
From the Present Moment to Past Pattern
“I don’t even know why I snapped—I just needed him to get it.”
A client once described a conflict with her partner where a small delay in his response felt unbearable. It wasn’t about the dishes or the phone. It was about what silence used to mean in her childhood: You’re on your own.
This is how trauma shows up. We don’t always react to the moment—we react to what it reminds us of. The nervous system picks up subtle cues (a look, a tone, a pause) and says: This isn’t safe.
So we defend. We retreat, attack, apologize, go quiet. Our body is solving for safety, not resolution.
The Body Remembers…First
Trauma responses are fast and practiced. Long before we can explain what’s happening, our body has already started trying to keep us safe. The muscles tense. The breath shortens. Our thoughts shift into alert mode. Sometimes we lash out. Sometimes we disappear.
These responses are rooted in experience, not weakness. They come from times when vulnerability wasn’t met with care—and so we learned to guard, to anticipate, to brace.
In relationships where we deeply care about the outcome, these responses can become even more charged. The closer we are to someone, the more exposed we feel. And that exposure can send us right into familiar, protective patterns: pushing, pulling, distancing, explaining, apologizing too quickly or not at all.
What We’re Really Saying
In my work with clients, I often explore what lives underneath our most reactive moments. Sometimes, “You don’t care” actually means, “I’m scared I can’t reach you.”
Or “I’m done” really means, “I don’t know how to stay and feel this much.”
When our trauma takes the wheel, we tend to speak from our oldest templates—the ones that helped us survive. But those templates weren’t built for mutuality. They were built for protection.
And so we find ourselves caught in a loop: a rupture, a reaction, a wave of shame or isolation—and then silence. Not because we don’t care, but because we don’t know how to do it differently yet.
Build Awareness Gently
When we begin to notice how trauma shapes our communication, something loosens. We find new language for our inner experience. We stop asking, What’s wrong with me? and start asking, What am I protecting right now?
That shift creates room. Not for perfection—but for presence.
We might start noticing:
- The story our mind tells us in conflict
- The sensations that rise in the body
- The unmet need behind our words or withdrawal
We learn to recognize the early signs of activation and create a small pause between the feeling and the reaction. That pause—tiny at first—is where choice begins to return.
Moving With Compassion
Healing doesn’t mean we’ll never get triggered. It means we’ll understand ourselves more clearly when we are. We’ll notice our reactions, not as failures, but as old protections rising up. And in that moment, we might choose to offer ourselves a breath instead of blame.
When trauma speaks for us, we’re often trying to stay safe the only way we know how. But with time, support, and practice, we begin to find new ways of relating. Ways that make space for both our wounds and our longing for connection.
We won’t get it right every time. But we can stay in relationship with ourselves as we try. And in that commitment, we begin to change the conversation—inside and out.
Dr. Jessie Brown 
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