Safety becomes our highest priority. We are afraid of things that may hurt us. This leads to excess caution around others, little or no “love”, and poor relationships.

Our past has taught us to always be look out for danger. We have a heightened alertness and constantly scan our environment for potential threats.

We flinch easily, react quickly, and may feel jumpy even in safe situations. The nervous system is primed for danger, always ready for something to go wrong.

Loud sounds, sudden touch, or bright lights can feel overwhelming. What others barely notice might flood our system, leaving us tense, irritable, or on edge.

Sleep doesn’t feel like rest—it can feel like another place where the body stays on guard. It’s hard to fall asleep, or we wake after just a few hours, and we might wake feeling tense or afraid.

Body dysmorphia makes it hard to see ourselves clearly. We fixate on perceived flaws, often ones others don’t notice at all. We start avoiding mirrors, photos, or even people.

Our minds feel clouded, like we’re trying to think through fog. We lose track of thoughts, forget words, and struggle to focus. It’s disorienting, like our brains just aren’t fully online.

Intrusive thoughts show up without warning—disturbing, unwanted, and often out of line with who we are. We don’t choose them, yet they can feel loud, persistent, and deeply unsettling. We may feel ashamed or afraid of what they mean, even though they’re just thoughts, not truths.

We learned to survive by disconnecting from our bodies, emotions, or surroundings—sometimes feeling far away, numb, or not fully real.

We can sometimes feel distant from ourselves, like we’re watching life happen instead of living it. Our thoughts, feelings, or even our bodies can feel unfamiliar. The world around us can seem unreal.

Flashbacks pull the past into the now. A sound, smell, or image can trigger a rush of fear or panic, as if we’re back in the moment, even when we know we’re safe.

Our brain blocks memories it thinks we can’t handle so there may be spaces of time we don’t remember.

We might feel panic, dread, or sadness without knowing why; just being in a certain place or situation can set it off. We experience big feelings without clear memories.

We often feel like we’re running on empty. We push through exhaustion, but our energy, focus, and motivation fade. Even small tasks feel heavy, and rest never seems to refill us.

Our nervous systems have lived out of balance for a long time—it has become our normal. Calm can feel unfamiliar, even uncomfortable.

Growing up, chaos was our normal. Living a quiet, normal life can seem boring. We need risky behaviours to give us the drama we are used to - crime, extreme sports or violence.

Our limbic brain takes the lead. It reacts fast, chasing safety or relief without thinking about the long-term. Because it’s wired for survival, not reflection, we can feel stuck in cycles that hurt more than help, pulled by emotion, not choice.

We want something that makes us feel good right now. Nothing is of interest unless it provides instant gratification. It is our only way of dealing with pain.

We act in the moment with little or no regard for the long term effects.

We jump into things with energy and urgency, but struggle to follow through. Starting feels good but finishing can feel overwhelming, boring, or pointless.

Our bodies stay flooded with cortisol meant for short bursts. Instead of turning off after danger passes, the stress response stays on. Our immune systems take a hit.

We continually compare ourselves to others and don’t feel valuable, lovable, or good enough. We want people to like us but believe if they get close enough to know the "real me" they would reject us.

We pretend to look and act how we think others want us to - and we’ve got it all together! The longer we wear masks, the more disconnected from ourselves we become.

We thrive on other people's praise and validation. We do anything and everything for other people to gain their love and make them dependent on us.

We spend so much time hiding behind walls and wearing masks. We have no idea who we really are.

Our experience with failure is punishment. We learn to get it right the first time or not try at all. We beat ourselves up for not doing a new thing right the first time.

We gain our value by comparing ourselves to others and judge by external criteria - beauty, physical appearance, intellect, personality, a nice car, shoes, or money.

Physically - move often to reinvent ourselves. Emotionally - shut down and try to become invisible. We can also isolate by being a relationship junkie, taking our minds off things for a while.

Codependency is how shame shows up in our relationships. We rely on others to feel worthy, fearing that being alone means we aren’t lovable and doing whatever it takes to avoid that feeling.

We often fall into helper or needy roles without realizing it. We often suppress our own needs to stay connected, always giving, anticipating, and sacrificing to feel safe or valued.

Perfectionism can feel like the answer to shame. If we do everything just right, maybe we’ll feel worthy, stay safe, and avoid being a burden to anyone.

We lie even when it’s just as easy to tell the truth. We learn to lie in order to survive and protect what is really inside of us. The guilt of lying feeds our shame.

In a dysfunctional family, the work revolves around the authority figure. Asking for something is met with annoyance, and so we conclude we are a burden.

We don’t want to take the risk that someone will be mad at us or that they won’t like us anymore, so we agree to whatever they ask.

We learn to manipulate others to get our needs met. Asking for what we need feels risky because the answer might be no. We might not even know we’re doing it.

We crave closeness, yet fear what it might cost. So we move toward it and pull away, all at once.

We seek pseudo-connection instead of genuine connection because it feels safer. We do things that give the feeling of connection without the risk of being truly seen or rejected.

We don’t want “our people” to spend time with anyone but us and we are angry when they interact with others.

We all have a deep need to know we are good people and worth something. We didn’t receive positive validation while growing up and believed the lies we were told.

In our family, our parents did not have to respect us. We felt unimportant, ashamed, humiliated, bullied, put down, and laughed at, and now read disrespect in everything.

When children are criticized constantly by their parents, they think something is wrong with them. Children develop a negative view of their own abilities.

How people see us is more important than who we really are. We believe our only value is in having others validate our looks or abilities.

We tend to have more insecurity and worries about who we are than the average person does (our physical features, personality, or ideals).

We feel motivated and sign up to do way too many things. Then we become overwhelmed with the new commitments. We shut down and can’t do what we promised.

Three rules: don’t talk, don’t feel, don’t trust. We have learned to hide our pain to keep ourselves safe. We stuff down things that make us feel vulnerable or weak.

We have trouble regulating our emotions, going from 1 to 100 in a flash. Small triggers can bring big reactions, and it’s hard to slow things down once they start.

When our limbic brain is triggered, feelings start to feel like facts. “I feel rejected, so I must be.” “I feel unloved, so it must be true.” In this state, logic rarely gets through.

If we live in an environment that isn’t safe, we live in a constant state of fear or panic. Anxiety is important - it tells us when we are in danger. It becomes a problem when it doesn’t "turn off" when we are safe.

Feeling sad for a day or two is normal. Anything longer than that means you may need to talk to someone. Extreme depression makes us feel like we don’t want to be here anymore.

We’ve had our hope crushed so many times! We are afraid to hope because of broken promises - Dad promises not to drink, but does anyway.

Some of us refuse to become angry and stuff it down, setting ourselves up for a big explosion. We turn anger into a weapon, and it becomes something we can’t control and are scared of.

True guilt is feeling remorse over something we’ve done. False guilt is feeling remorse over someone else’s behaviour - “Look at what you made me do!”

Stress is normal when we’re overloaded or pressed for time. If we don’t learn to deal with stress, we act out, cry, and numb our emotions.

When we experience Trauma as a child, we stop growing emotionally at that age. We develop unhealthy ways of coping since we’re still in survival mode.

Abandonment is the ultimate rejection. If we have been abandoned, we assume there must be something wrong and we are unwanted. We are sure anyone who gets close will abandon us as well.

We avoid pain at any cost. In the past, there has been much pain, and no solution to stop the pain.

In an unhealthy home, we are punished for not doing things perfectly. To avoid pain and humiliation, we won’t try anything new.

We would rather stay in an unhealthy, abusive situation than leave and go into the unknown. “At least I know what to expect in this situation. It could be worse…”

We like our routines and don’t like change for fear of getting hurt. The thought paralyzes us and stops us from taking action.

When things are going well, we feel scared because we’re not used to it. We believe it will not last, and the outcome will be worse than before.

We throw a wrench into our success when things are going well as it may seem too good to be true. We believe we don’t deserve good things and we better destroy it before something or someone else does.

We learn early on that conflict means danger. We don’t know what healthy conflict looks like and we are afraid of it. We don’t deal well with it, so we avoid it at all costs.

We learn to fear angry people because anger often meant danger. Boundaries didn’t work, reasoning made things worse, and someone usually got hurt. Now, just seeing anger can trigger fear and a strong urge to escape.

If we gain our value from the wrong source, we will always be fearful of losing it. We should be accepting of our internal self, instead of our externals.

With complex trauma, we often try to avoid what once hurt us: anger, control, rejection. But without healing, we can unknowingly recreate those same patterns. What we fear most can show up in our choices, relationships, or reactions.

Unknown situations are confusing, bring opposition, and make it harder to deal with all these changes. We believe it is easier to return to the old, more familiar and comfortable ways of living.

With addiction, we often go all in—chasing relief, escape, or control. If a little helps, it feels like more must be better, until it takes over and starts causing harm. Anything that serves as an escape from our pain qualifies.

We can become addicted to relationships and sex because they meet deep needs for connection. The oxytocin and closeness feel comforting, and we keep going back for more to feel safe or wanted.

We won’t allow any uncomfortable emotions. We use distractions to escape our emotions when the only way to get rid of these bad feelings is to experience them fully.

We escape through fantasy to cope with what feels too painful to face. It lets us leave the moment, mentally or emotionally, and find relief in a world that feels safer, even if just for a while.

We are going to do everything perfectly so that others see how awesome we are or we already think we can’t do anything right so we’ll be noticed for "making bad look good."

We look for negative things in people and situations and plan for the worst-case scenario to protect ourselves from disappointment.

We tend to be rigid or extreme because it makes the world feel more predictable. Clear rules and strong beliefs can bring a sense of safety when the unknown feels threatening.

When we are given a position of authority we abuse the power. We act like the people we swore we’d never be. Our only example of how authority is handled is misguided.

Most of us were never taught to set a healthy boundary or that we are entitled to have boundaries. We can be easily manipulated to change a boundary.

We procrastinate not out of laziness, but because our body sees stress as danger. Avoiding tasks becomes a form of flight response, especially when pressure feels overwhelming or unsafe.

We learn to shut down our inner alarms because they were consistently ignored, punished, or too painful to feel. Over time, we stop trusting them, even when they’re trying to protect us.

Our subconscious defaults were shaped for survival, not connection. We learned to hide, control, or protect ourselves in ways that brought short-term safety, but now they often harm us and others. Authenticity, trust, and vulnerability feel risky, so we avoid them.

We live by double standards in relationships because that’s what we grew up with. One set of rules for us, another for others. We learned to accept it as normal, even when it felt unfair or confusing.

Parents are supposed to keep us safe, keep promises, and love us unconditionally. When these needs aren’t met, we can’t trust them, and if we can’t trust them, we can’t trust anybody.

Someone in a position of authority has abused their power over us. This can lead to Oppositional Defiant Disorder and us rebelling against and challenging authority.

Many of us get stuck here. We feel powerless. We can't move on from our past or move forward to our future. The world owes us because of what we've been through.

We’re often drawn to emotionally unavailable people because it’s what we knew growing up. When connection with a parent wasn’t secure or consistent, our nervous system learned to chase closeness that never fully arrives.

This comes from the relationships we experience in our home growing up. Absent parents - someone who was never hugged, cuddled, or loved in a healthy way will have trouble forming an emotional relationship.

We are taught to be loyal to the family no matter what the cost.

In a dysfunctional family, our every action was controlled and/or abused by an authority figure. Our sole purpose was to help them get their needs met with little or no regard about how it made us feel.

We become more aware of others’ needs than our own because, early on, our safety depended on it. When fight or flight wasn’t an option, we learned to fawn—staying hyper-attuned to others’ moods, needs, and expectations to feel secure and accepted.