How Trauma Impacts our Sense of Safety

I learned Focusing through the teachings of Leslie Ellis, a truly gifted guide whose work continues to shape how I understand trauma and safety in the body. What I’ve come to realize through her presence and wisdom is that trauma doesn’t just live in our memories—it lives in our bodies. It disturbs our natural rhythm, our sense of groundedness. It shows up as tension, hyper-alertness, numbness, or a sense of not quite being here. And yet, through Focusing-Oriented Therapy (FOT), I’ve learned that there is a way back. Gently. Slowly. With care.

Trauma has a way of pulling us out of ourselves. The body, once a place of safety, can begin to feel foreign or overwhelming. Sensations like tightness in the chest, a jittery undercurrent, or the floaty feeling of dissociation might become part of the everyday landscape. FOT offers us a way to meet those sensations with presence—not to push them away, but to listen. To tune in softly. To hold space for what’s there and allow it to unfold at its own pace.

One of the most profound pieces I’ve taken from Leslie’s teachings is how trauma often creates a state of hypervigilance—a mind/body always scanning, always ready, even when the danger has long passed. FOT helps us draw that distinction between then and now. It creates space to gently guide the body back to the present moment, where safety might actually be available. Where stillness can return.

Leslie also helped me understand the role of dissociation—not as a failure, but as a wise, protective response. The disconnection to survive. For example, if not recognized for what it is, a reaction to an abusive relationship could end up labelled as avoidant attachment! FOT doesn’t try to pull us out of that place too quickly. We don't diagnose or intellectualize. Instead, it offers a soft hand, a patient presence. It invites us back into the body, bit by bit, breath by breath, until we feel safe enough to stay.

And then there’s the freeze. That stuckness so many of us know. The part of us that feels unable to move forward, no matter how much we want to. FOT meets the freeze with warmth and space. We don’t force a shift. We listen. We let the body guide the way. And when it’s ready, something begins to move. Slowly. Naturally. With integrity.

At the heart of everything Leslie teaches—and at the heart of Focusing—is the idea that healing begins with safety. And safety begins in the body. When we approach our inner world with curiosity and compassion, we begin to rebuild that trust with ourselves. We start to feel what’s true again. What’s real. What’s alive.

This practice has taught me that healing doesn’t need to be dramatic. It can be subtle. Quiet. A deep breath. A small shift. A moment of feeling more here. More whole. And that’s enough. That’s everything.

References:

Cohen, J. (2009). Focusing in Clinical Practice: The Essence of Change. The Guilford Press.

Ellis, L. (2015). The Dreamwork Handbook: A Guide to the Practice of Dreamwork. New Harbinger Publications.

Gendlin, E. T. (1981). Focusing. Bantam.

Gendlin, E. T. (1996). Focusing-Oriented Psychotherapy: A Manual of the Experiential Method. The Guilford Press.