Trauma Responses | Moody Melon Magazine

When Survival Mode Outstays Its Welcome: How to Rewire the Brain for Connection Instead of Protection

Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
Nov 2

Survival mode kept us safe when life felt unpredictable, but when it lingers too long, it can quietly block us from feeling love, trust, and connection.

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When Survival Mode Outstays Its Welcome: How to Rewire the Brain for Connection Instead of Protection

Survival mode is one of the most remarkable features of the human brain. It’s what helps us adapt, react, and stay alive during moments of danger or chaos. But when those moments are over and the body never fully gets the message, survival mode can quietly start running the show — shaping how we think, love, and connect.

Many trauma survivors live years, even decades, in a state of subtle vigilance. The body is safe, but the brain hasn’t caught up. It’s as if an alarm was left on, humming softly in the background, influencing how we experience relationships, trust, and even joy.

So how do we teach our brains that it’s okay to relax — that it’s safe to love and be loved again?

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The Brain’s Brilliant but Stubborn Design

The brain’s job is simple: keep us alive. When we experience trauma — whether it’s emotional neglect, betrayal, or physical harm — our nervous system learns patterns designed for protection. These patterns form neural pathways that become automatic.

For instance, when your body senses threat, the amygdala (the brain’s alarm system) takes over, flooding you with stress hormones and preparing you for fight, flight, or freeze. Over time, if the danger is repeated or prolonged, this response becomes the brain’s default setting.

The problem? Once the threat is gone, the brain doesn’t automatically flip the switch back to calm. It stays in survival mode — scanning for danger, misinterpreting signals, and confusing closeness for vulnerability.

When Survival Mode Becomes the Relationship Barrier

In relationships, survival mode can look like emotional distance, irritability, or mistrust. It can sound like, “I’m fine,” when we’re actually terrified of being misunderstood or rejected.

When we’ve learned that love once came with pain, our brain associates connection with risk. That wiring makes us guard ourselves — even from people who genuinely care. We might pull away before we can be hurt, or overanalyze every word for hidden danger.

Partners and loved ones may see this as detachment or defensiveness, but it’s really the body’s way of saying, “I don’t feel safe yet.” It’s protection disguised as disconnection.

This is why many trauma survivors describe feeling lonely even in loving relationships. The heart wants closeness, but the nervous system still believes that safety means distance.

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The Power of Awareness: Catching Survival Mode in Action

The first step in rewiring the brain is noticing when survival mode is taking over. Ask yourself:

Am I reacting to what’s happening now, or to something that reminds me of the past?
Is my body tense or my breath shallow when I don’t need to be?
Do I interpret neutral moments — like silence or disagreement — as signs of rejection or danger?

Awareness allows you to pause before reacting. That pause is powerful. It tells your brain, “This isn’t an emergency. We can choose a different response.” Over time, that repetition creates new neural pathways — ones that lead toward safety instead of defense.

Rewiring the Brain: From Protection to Connection

Healing is not about erasing old pathways; it’s about building new ones strong enough to become your default. This process takes patience, consistency, and compassion for yourself.

Here are a few ways to support the brain’s rewiring process:

1. Ground the body.Use breathwork, stretching, or mindfulness to remind your body that it’s safe. When the body relaxes, the brain follows.

2. Name what’s happening.Simply saying, “This is my survival brain talking,” helps create distance between your reaction and your reality. It moves you from reactivity to reflection.

3. Practice co-regulation.Spend time with people who feel safe. Shared calm moments — a hug, laughter, or gentle eye contact — teach the nervous system that connection can coexist with safety.

4. Seek trauma-informed therapy.Approaches like EMDR, Somatic Experiencing, and DBT help release stored trauma and retrain the brain’s responses. These modalities support both emotional processing and physiological regulation.

Over time, you begin to live in the present instead of reliving the past.

When the Brain Learns Peace

Rewiring your brain doesn’t mean the old alarms disappear entirely — it means they no longer control the volume. Your body learns that safety isn’t the absence of threat; it’s the presence of connection.

As the nervous system settles, relationships shift. Trust feels more natural. Vulnerability feels less dangerous. Love starts to feel like comfort, not risk.

You begin to see that surviving was never the whole story. Living — fully, openly, and connected — is what comes next.

A Question to Reflect On

If your survival brain could finally relax, and your heart could fully trust safety again — how might your relationships begin to change?

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I Know What You Did Last Summer: When the Real Horror Is Trauma Left Untold

Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
May 25

At a glance, I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997) is a classic horror flick: a group of teens, a deadly secret, and a relentless killer with a hook. But behind the gore and suspense is a quieter, more haunting story—one about adolescent trauma, unprocessed grief, and the unraveling that happens when young people carry the unbearable alone.

Let’s take a closer look—through the lens of the 12 Core Concepts for Understanding Traumatic Stress Responses in Children and Adolescents, developed by the National Child Traumatic Stress Network (NCTSN). These principles help us understand how deeply trauma affects not only what kids remember—but who they become.

1. Traumatic experiences are inherently subjective.

To an outsider, the teens’ decision to hide the hit-and-run might seem rash, even melodramatic. But trauma isn’t about what “should” hurt—it’s about what does. For Julie, Helen, Barry, and Ray, the event fractured their sense of self and safety. Each teen internalized it differently—some with guilt, some with numbness, others with aggression.

2. Trauma affects the developing brain.

Adolescence is already a time of major neurological and emotional development. Add trauma, and those pathways shift. The characters exhibit signs of hyperarousal (Barry’s rage), emotional withdrawal (Julie’s depression), and fragmented identity (Helen’s decline from pageant queen to invisible daughter). Their behavior reflects the brain’s struggle to adapt to overwhelming stress.

3. Trauma impacts multiple domains of functioning.

Their trauma doesn’t just haunt them emotionally—it affects their school performance, relationships, self-esteem, and decision-making. Julie can’t concentrate. Helen’s dreams collapse. Barry loses control. Ray avoids intimacy. These aren’t personality flaws—they're survival responses.

4. Trauma occurs within a broad ecological context.

The teens don’t exist in a vacuum. Their trauma is compounded by lack of adult support, community silence, and pressure to appear “fine.” No one is truly checking in. No one is holding space. This mirrors the reality for many teens whose pain goes unnoticed in school, home, or peer spaces.

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5. Trauma and grief are often intertwined.

The hit-and-run wasn’t just about guilt. It was also about grief—grief for the version of themselves that existed before that night. And when the killings begin, the grief compounds. But without safe space to process it, their mourning is masked by fear, isolation, and panic.

6. Trauma can impact caregiver and peer relationships.

Each teen becomes emotionally disconnected from their families and each other. Where once there was closeness, now there’s mistrust. This mirrors how trauma often disrupts relational safety—especially when the people we need most become the ones we fear or push away.

7. Protective and promotive factors can reduce the impact of trauma.

Unfortunately, the characters in the film have very few protective supports. No trusted adults. No mental health intervention. No emotional scaffolding. In real life, this is what often makes trauma feel inescapable. Kids who have someone safe—a therapist, a teacher, a stable caregiver—are more likely to heal and integrate their experiences.

8. Trauma responses are often attempts at self-protection.

Barry’s aggression, Julie’s numbness, Helen’s detachment—these aren’t dysfunctions. They’re survival strategies. Whether through control, avoidance, or perfectionism, each teen is trying to make sense of a world that no longer feels safe.

9. Culture shapes trauma response and recovery.

In their small coastal town, appearances matter. Reputation, tradition, and silence rule. This social context discourages confession and vulnerability, pushing the teens deeper into secrecy. In many real communities, similar norms prevent young people from reaching out.

10. Trauma exposure can fundamentally alter identity.

Trauma doesn’t just hurt—it changes how teens see themselves. Helen no longer feels beautiful or special. Julie believes she’s “not who she was.” They’ve lost not just their innocence—but their self-concept. This identity shift is one of trauma’s most insidious impacts.

11. Developmental regression is common.

We see this most in the group dynamic: their reliance on impulsive decisions, black-and-white thinking, and power struggles suggests a kind of regression. Trauma can make teens feel much younger—emotionally frozen at the time of the event.

12. Trauma recovery is possible.

Though the film doesn’t offer much in the way of resolution, real life can. With support, safety, and the chance to speak the unspeakable, young people can move through trauma—not by forgetting, but by transforming it.

Final Thought:

If secrets can haunt us like ghosts, how many teens are living inside their own horror stories—waiting to be believed, heard, and held?