How Trauma Shapes Our Mind, Body and Identity part 2

We discussed in part 1 in general terms how trauma affects us.

In this article, we dive deeper into how trauma shapes our mind. We’ll explore how trauma changes our brain and how these changes show up in our daily actions and relationships.

Finally, we’ll reflect on how we can begin to undo these effects and take steps toward a more healed sense of self.

I strongly believe that when we truly learn to understand ourselves and how everything works, change begins.

Not all at once. Not perfectly. But one step at a time.

This understanding has been incredibly important for me on my healing journey. That’s why I want to now open up what actually happens in the brain when trauma leaves its mark.

Perhaps even more importantly: why our body acts the way it does — and how we can start together to create a new, safer story for it.

This article is not only for those who have experienced trauma themselves, it can also be helpful for the loved ones around them. Understanding how trauma shapes the mind and body can deepen empathy and provide tools to support those we care about on their healing journey.

Alarm system: Amygdala

The amygdala is a part of the brain that monitors safety. It is like an internal guard dog or a fire alarm – its job is to react when something feels threatening. When it works as it should, it protects us from dangers: in traffic, when faced with violence, or in situations where quick reactions are necessary.

What happens when this alarm system becomes overly sensitive

Imagine you put bread in the toaster. It doesn’t smoke or burn, but the fire alarm still starts ringing. Total panic. You wonder why it reacts like that, but the alarm doesn’t ask for reasons. It reacts because something reminds it that maybe there is a fire.

This is what life can feel like in a body traumatized.

The amygdala is tuned to see threats even when they aren’t really there. Not because you are oversensitive or broken, but because you have learned to observe the world from a survivor’s perspective. When there have been moments in life where something happened completely unexpectedly, the brain decided: better to be alert all the time than to be surprised again.

Why does this happen?

We have an incredibly wise nervous system. It remembers the situations where you have been in danger, and it does everything to make sure you don’t end up there again.

For example, if you grew up in a home where the atmosphere was unpredictable, you may have learned as a child to scan every facial expression, sound, and feeling. Because then it mattered: a small gesture might mean a shout is coming. Or that you are being shut out.

Your body tuned itself to survive.

This same nervous system doesn’t know that you are safe now. It still operates by the rules it was taught back then. It doesn’t recognize whether you are still a child. It doesn’t recognize whether you are still in danger.

If this state of readiness continues for a long time, it can affect everything: concentration, relationships, sleep, and even the ability to trust that life can sometimes be light.

What does it look like in everyday life?

• You jump at small noises, sounds, or movements that others don’t even notice.

• Your heart races and your hands sweat, even when nothing has happened.

• If someone is quiet, you start wondering if you did something wrong.

• Even small conflicts feel huge – they put your body in alarm mode and your thoughts race.

• Even safe relationships feel suspicious because your body can’t trust.

• Life feels like a battle – even when there’s nothing to fight against.

  
  

And even though you know logically there is no danger, your body still acts as if there is.

This does not mean you are actually broken.

On the contrary. It means your body is working perfectly, just as it was supposed to when you were really in danger. Back then, there was no time to think whether the threat was real or not. There was only time to act. To survive.

Now, when there is more safety in your life, your body hasn’t yet received that message. It still behaves as if everything is dangerous, but this can be undone. Piece by piece. Gently.

Not by forcing, not by pushing, and not by blaming yourself.

But like training a frightened animal to understand that not every sound means danger. That you no longer have to run or hide. That now you can stay, and breathe.

Guardian of memory and sense of reality: Hippocampus

The hippocampus is the part of the brain that helps us stay connected to time and place. It tells us that this moment is different from what happened before.

It’s a bit like an internal map reader. It tracks where we are, where we have been, and what belongs to which time. Without it, we wouldn’t remember that this is now and that was then.

When a person experiences trauma, especially long-lasting or repeated trauma, this map reader starts to get confused.

Why does this happen?

Trauma, especially in childhood or in situations where escape isn’t possible, constantly overloads the body. When the stress hormone cortisol is in the blood too much and for too long, it begins to damage the neurons in the hippocampus.

The brain switches to survival mode.

In those moments, it doesn’t matter whether it’s about today or a memory from years ago. The body begins to live as if everything is happening right now. Because the hippocampus no longer keeps track of time in the same way, the body can experience an old memory as a real threat.

What does this mean in everyday life?

• Trauma doesn’t feel like just a memory, but an experience happening again in the body.

• You might be in a safe place, but your body reacts as if danger is present.

• Certain sounds, words, smells, or moods can trigger a flashback, and for a moment everything gets mixed up. You might not even realize why you got so scared.

• Your sense of time becomes distorted. One day can feel like forever. Or weeks vanish in the blink of an eye.

• You might catch yourself thinking: “That wasn’t a big deal, why am I reacting like this?” But for your body, it’s no longer a “small thing.” It was a familiar signal of old pain.

This can feel scary, especially if you don’t know what’s happening. You might feel crazy, overreactive, or weak, even though you are just a person whose body has carried more than it should.

There is nothing wrong with you.

Your nervous system is just doing its job: protecting you as best it can.

It doesn’t know you have already survived. But it can be taught.

How can you support the hippocampus and reconnect to the present moment?

The answer simple and repeating it doesn’t make it any less true: presence.

Trauma takes the body to the past. You can gently bring it back to this moment.

Center of thinking, self-control, and direction: Prefrontal Cortex

If the brain were an orchestra, the prefrontal cortex would be the conductor.

It guides our logical thinking, decision-making, emotional regulation, and the ability to step back and think before acting.

When it works properly, we can:

• weigh our words before speaking

• assess if our reaction fits the situation

• calm ourselves down

• make wise decisions

• and stay on track even when emotions run high

But trauma changes all this.

Why does this happen?

When the body is in alarm mode, the brain switches to survival mode. And then the conductor goes silent.

The prefrontal cortex basically goes offline, so instincts and reflexes get all the attention. Because from an evolutionary perspective, if a wild animal threatens you, there’s no time to think logically or map your emotions.

You have to run. Or freeze. Or fight.

The problem is that if this state lasts for years or decades, the regulation of thinking and self-control stays in the background. Not because you’re weak, but because your nervous system has had to live in constant alert.

What does this look like in everyday life?

• You react quickly and intensely. Maybe even before you fully realize what happened.

• You might explode in a situation that wasn’t actually that big. Then feel sad or ashamed right after because you didn’t really want to act that way.

• It’s hard to stop. Hard to take distance. Hard to make clear decisions.

• Thoughts scatter or disappear altogether, like your mind is in a fog.

• You might feel like you don’t control yourself. Like you can’t influence your own reactions.

• And at worst, you start to believe this all says something about you as a person. Even though it’s about trauma. Not you.

  
  

This is the part where many people feel weak or bad, because “an adult should be able to control themselves.”

Truth is, when you’ve carried fear, shame, loneliness, or threat inside you longer than you ever deserved, your body has learned to protect you with reaction, not reason.

This is not a flaw. It’s a mark. And marks can be recognized. And slowly, gently, they can be rewritten.

When the mind starts to distort, and why it’s not your fault

When the amygdala is overactive, the hippocampus loses its sense of direction, and the prefrontal cortex withdraws to the background, the effects don’t stay only in the brain.

They show up in every single thing you think, feel, or choose not to do.

Not because you’re crazy, but because the mind is trying to survive.

And often it does this so well that you don’t even notice something is off until one day you wake up and everything feels heavy, scary, or meaningless.

Trauma changes the way the mind interprets the world.

• It makes you see threats where there are none.

• It makes you brace for rejection even when someone is genuinely trying to be close.

• It can make you believe your feelings are dangerous or too much, or that you’re unsafe, even if everything around you is actually fine.

This happens subtly. You don’t wake up one morning thinking, “Now I have trauma thinking turned on.”

It has crept in little by little. Like old software no one updates, running in the background, affecting everything.

The mind starts to build defense mechanisms:

• You avoid relationships where closeness is possible, because closeness has sometimes hurt.

• You don’t dare to try, because disappointments have been too painful before.

• You might try to control everything around you, because inside you everything feels uncontrollable.

Or, on the contrary:

• You try to please everyone so you won’t be left alone.

• You overthink, analyze endlessly, because it feels safer than feeling.

• You react quickly and strongly, because subconsciously you think if you attack first, no one will hurt you.

  
  

Trauma doesn’t just leave a mark on the body, it starts building your whole worldview.

And that worldview can be distorted.

Do you know what gives hope?

The brain changes. The mind changes.

If harmful connections have formed in trauma, for example, that closeness = pain, they can be unpacked and rebuilt. One gentle piece at a time.

It’s not easy.

It’s not fast.

But it’s possible.

What if trauma isn’t the whole story?

Trauma is often talked about as if it’s the end.

Like a label stamped on your forehead or a permanent crack that can never be fully healed.

I believe trauma is also a beginning. Or at least… a calling.

Not to the life you would have chosen, but to the one that you can build now, because you have been through it all.

Trauma can take you in two directions.

It can close you off, make you bitter, hard, broken.

Or

It can open you up, soften you, deepen you, and make you a person who never looks another in the eye without knowing there may be pain hidden beneath the surface.

Trauma can make you a person who:

• knows how to appreciate even the smallest moment of peace

• doesn’t take love for granted

• hears more in someone’s silence than most ever learn to see in words

• wants to stand up for those who were never heard, because you know what that feels like

It doesn’t justify the pain.

It doesn’t mean it was 'meant to be' (though I do believe everything happens for a reason, but you don’t have to).

It means that you can decide what happens from here on.

Will you spread the pain or transform it into compassion?

This choice doesn’t happen once, but every day. It’s not always easy. It’s not always fair.

But it’s yours.

And maybe, just maybe, in that choice begins your new story.

The First Step Toward a Calmer Mind

Three great tools I've used through my healing:

• Breathing

• Writing

• Reminder about safety.

I’ll leave you with this easy exercise to send your body a message there is no danger right now:

1. Breathe in calmly through your nose. Count to four.

2. Hold your breath for a moment (count to two or four).

3. Breathe out slowly and long through your mouth. Count to six.

4. Repeat this five times. (Or as long as you feel you need to.)

Afterwards, look around and say out loud:

• Three things you see.

• Three things you hear

• Three things you feel in your body

This brings you back to the present moment.

You don’t have to fix everything at once. It’s enough to notice: “My alarm is ringing, but there’s no fire.”

Today you get to breathe. Today, you are safe.

Conclusion:

In the second part of this series, we explored what happens to trauma in the mind: how it shapes our thoughts, interpretations, and the way we see the world.

Next, we’ll dive deeper into the body.

How does trauma get stored in muscle memory? Why doesn’t the body simply “forget”?

And how can you begin to gently regulate your nervous system, even when it feels like the panic switch is stuck on?

We’ll continue this journey together soon.

Remember, you’re already further along than you realize.

If this resonates with you, leave a like and send it to someone who needs it too ❤️

Feel free to share your thoughts or questions, I’m here to listen.

In case no one has told you today, I’m proud of you!

Mari

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Disclaimer:

This blog does not offer medical, psychological, or nutritional advice. I am not a certified professional. I simply share personal experiences, insights, and observations.

The content is not intended to replace professional assessment, therapy, or treatment. It is each reader’s responsibility to evaluate whether the information resonates or applies to their own situation, and to make independent decisions accordingly. I always encourage critical thinking and exploring multiple sources.

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