What does it mean to be Trauma Informed?

This has been a question I’ve wanted to address for some time. Trauma and experiences of trauma seem to be widely spoken about now and people appear more comfortable sharing personal experiences and aspects of their own lives —clinicians included.

A simple Google search defined Trauma as “an emotional and physical response to an event that is perceived as overwhelming and/or life-threatening.” From this point, people may become hyper-vigilant , or they may shut down—both emotionally and physically. Trauma can also be that of prolonged stress, hardship or cruelty experienced in a relationship or circumstance. This is often referred to as complex trauma. Trauma changes our body and our mind and to understand this is to be Trauma Informed.

As I write this, I consider what it’s like when we injure a muscle. If a muscle is put under too much stress or experiences a sudden impact, it can either overstretch or tear. Either way, it becomes seriously weakened and can no longer maintain the integrity of the ligaments and joints it supports. It simply will not allow for free, functional movement, and the resulting physical pain can be extreme. In comparison, our mind, brain, and heart too may refuse to function as they once did—or perhaps, if we suffered as infants or young children, as they were never truly given the opportunity to.

So, Once We Know This — What Then?

Sometimes a person doesn’t even realise that they are suffering. It may take someone close to them to notice how their behaviour doesn’t align with the perceived quality of life or that it has changed to now affect their world. It can be like a wounded animal that lashes out from pain or frustration. We humans can be very similar — hurting those around us and, for a time, refusing any help that’s offered, likely not even recognising the need or the help.

As I have begun working, I’ve come to understand that even when people seek to work with me, they may later decide that I’m not the right person for them. Although I always feel disappointed, I completely understand and, in fact, encourage people to find the clinician who feels right for them. People must feel comfortable and secure enough to disclose whatever they need to, and if they sense that I’m not the right fit, that’s more than okay. It’s good.

I see this as the first step in being a trauma-informed practitioner: recognising when I may not have the skills or knowledge to help someone, or when a client feels a lack of rapport. I may not be a doctor, but I try to work by the principle of first, do no harm — and sometimes that means choosing not to work with a potential client.

For people to feel safe in their bodies and minds, they must eventually feel in control of the care they receive. From my perspective, it doesn’t matter whether you are trying to give up smoking or overcome painful flashbacks — a person must be able to find the approach or style of intervention that feels right for them. The healing of trauma is about allowing the human body and brain to find a peace that their nervous system can begin to recognise as safety. A person can then begin to trusting their own decisions while, ideally, offering themselves compassion for all they have been through.

Healing happens if or when we begin to let it.

Through my work, I’ve come to understand just how important it is to go slowly. This was my number one mistake when I began. I see now hat when the pace is slowed, the brain has time to decide whether it feels safe with me and whether it’s ready to engage in the work I offer. It also needs to know that if I do make a mistake, I will acknowledge and own it. Creating safety and trust and inviting collaboration is what I believe can make a real difference.

We are never the same after we have experienced or acknowledge deep trauma. I know this personally. I have an old me — the person I once was. I am no longer her.

The old me was inexperienced and rather naive, but I loved her, and I still occasionally grieve her. There were parts of her that were fearless; I think she was both kind and unafraid to speak up. I’m her no longer. I’m much more cautious now, and I believe I will forever tread lightly.

But now I value what it truly means to be mentally well — and that is fundamentally important to who I now am. My experiences, decisions, and mistakes I hold with tenderness; quite frankly, there’s no other way I’ve found that allows me to experience peace. My way of being with myself offers me strength. It works for me, and this is how I know the importance of finding the most authentic way of being — one that suits you and who you uniquely are.