Your Nervous System's Quest for Safety
Be patient toward all that is unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves.
- Rainer Maria Rilke
If you've ever whispered to yourself, “What's wrong with me?” - you're definitely not alone. Most of us have. That question tends to pop up when anxiety hits, when we feel stuck or torn, or when life just feels heavier than it should. But here's the real truth: there's nothing wrong with you. Instead, a much more healing question is, “What happened to me?” and how did my nervous system learn to adapt?
This simple shift is incredibly powerful. It changes shame into compassion and blame into understanding. It reminds us of one central fact: your nervous system isn't wired for happiness or success above all else - it's wired for safety. To truly understand this, it's crucial to grasp a fundamental point: your nervous system operates on a very different logic.
Your Nervous System's Primal Purpose
Your nervous system doesn’t care if you’re a good person, if you’ve meditated today, or if you’ve finally cracked the code to life’s purpose. It isn’t here to optimize happiness, purpose, or spiritual fulfillment. Its prime directive is survival, not lofty ideals. This is where the journey of emotional healing and wellness begins, with the biological reality of how your body detects and responds to safety or threat.
Even when you’re asleep, your autonomic nervous system - think of it as your body’s autopilot - works behind the scenes, scanning for safety or threat. This subconscious process is called neuroception, like an internal smoke alarm that goes off before you even realize there’s danger. Ever jumped at a sudden noise or flinched when someone approached too quickly? That’s neuroception at work.
When safety is present, your body is at ease. Your breath deepens. You feel connected, curious, open. When safety is absent, your body tightens. You might feel restless, numb, hyper-alert, or like you want to run and hide. These emotions are reflections of neurophysiological states, your body’s way of helping you survive in a world that, at times, doesn’t feel safe.
Neuroception of Threat in Action
Here’s some examples of when neuroception detects cues of threat:
A young woman was walking home alone at night, the street quiet but dimly lit. Up ahead, a stranger approached with a smile and waved. There was no obvious threat to name, but neuroception interpreted the cues of being alone, in the dark, and near a stranger. Her heart raced, muscles braced, and her pace quickened before she realized it. Danger was only a shadow of a possibility, but her nervous system wasn’t taking any risks.
At work, a colleague glanced up and said, “You look more relaxed lately.” She smiled automatically, face flushing. Inside she wondered, Relaxed compared to what? What else have they noticed? Her mind darted in all directions; her body shifted into vigilance, scanning for hidden meaning. Not because the compliment was cruel, but because her history with a former boss taught her that kindness sometimes came right before the ‘cut.’
Pause and consider: Have you ever smiled on the outside while part of you silently scanned for danger? What was your body protecting in that moment?
At home a tender story was being shared between partners. Mid-sentence, one glanced at and was distracted by their phone for too long. That flick of attention elsewhere caused something inside to drop. The connection careened off course. It wasn’t a conscious choice to shut down, but the body had already done it. Heavy and unseen, they folded inward in withdrawal.
Here’s a personal story from many years ago. I was at home having dinner with a woman I cared about. We had just moved in together. She was the first girlfriend I’d lived with and it was a big step - a hopeful one. As she spoke about her day, I nodded, smiled, and tried to be present. But internally, something was wrong. Her words felt like I was inhaling smoke from a nearby fire. I wanted to bolt. I couldn’t breathe.
Nothing was wrong on the surface. She was kind, loving, and loyal. Yet my body was screaming danger. Later, I would come to understand my reactions had nothing to do with her. It was about my nervous system and what it had learned through years of past emotional neglect: that close intimacy was dangerous. That to be truly seen was to expose all my shame. So, although my brain tried to stay engaged, I kept my feelings private, while my body launched escape plans.
These are just a few examples of what can happen when neuroception detects an emotional or physical threat. It sets off a chain of reactions to protect you in ways that aren’t always rational, but always prioritize safety. They’re primal, fast, automatic, and even when you’re aware of what’s happening, it’s often too powerful to control.
Neuroception of Safety in Action
In contrast, here’s some examples of when neuroception detects safety cues.
In the car, a familiar song played, one remembered with warmth and belonging. The body softened before the mind caught up. The rhythm opened their breath with a quiet sense of “I’m okay here.”
A client shared something vulnerable, then paused. The therapist didn’t rush to speak, just stayed present, calm, and leaned slightly forward. The look in their eyes showed care, and it landed. The tightness in the client’s chest loosened, and it felt safe to keep going.
Tears came after the news of a friend’s death. Their partner stayed close, silent but steady. No fixing, no undue concern. Just their presence, and in that stillness the body registered: I’m not alone in this.
Polyvagal Theory: The Science of Safety
Developed by Dr. Stephen Porges, Polyvagal Theory shows how your nervous system constantly shifts between connection, mobilization, and shutdown in its drive to protect you:
Ventral Vagal Pathway: This is the social engagement system. When this system is dominant, you feel connected, safe, and open. Think eye contact, warm tone of voice, and genuine laughter. This is where healing happens.
Sympathetic Pathway: This is the fight-or-flight system. When danger is detected, this system mobilizes energy to help you escape or confront the threat. It feels like anxiety, tension, irritability, or panic.
Dorsal Vagal Pathway: This is the shutdown system. When the threat feels inescapable or overwhelming the body goes into freeze or faint mode. This looks like numbness, dissociation, a sense of collapse, or actual collapse.
To understand these states, imagine your nervous system as a ladder, with each rung representing a different state your body can be in, depending on how safe or threatened you feel. This powerful concept is central to Polyvagal Theory, which further refines our understanding of the familiar sympathetic and parasympathetic branches of your nervous system.
Top Rung (Ventral Vagal Pathway): This is the state of connection and social engagement. Here, you feel safe, calm, and connected to others – your ideal state for healing and growth.
Middle Rung (Sympathetic Pathway): This is the fight-or-flight response. When you perceive a threat, your body mobilizes energy for action, preparing to either confront or escape danger.
Bottom Rung (Dorsal Vagal Pathway): This is the shutdown state. This older, more primitive response to extreme threat causes the body to essentially "play dead" to conserve energy and minimize harm.
Throughout your day, your body constantly moves up and down this polyvagal ladder, unconsciously assessing your environment and adjusting your physiological state to help you navigate the world. It's important to note that both the ventral and dorsal vagal pathways are part of the parasympathetic branch of your nervous system, highlighting its diverse roles in regulating your body's responses.
Your Body Has a Story to Tell
This hierarchy developed through millions of years of mammalian evolution, meaning your ancestors passed down DNA that kept them alive long enough to reproduce. Loud noises, sudden movements, or intense facial expressions have historically meant danger, like predators, conflict, or physical threat. Meanwhile, warm eye contact, rhythmic vocal tones, and gentle touch have signaled safety, belonging, and protection. Your nervous system reacts automatically based on these biological cues. Although the ability to detect many cues is deeply rooted in our evolutionary history, our individual responses are profoundly shaped by both biology and experience.
If you grew up in a household where raised voices led to harm, your body might interpret any tension, even healthy disagreement, as danger. If touch was inconsistent or absent, a warm hug might feel confusing or even threatening. If silence was ever weaponized, ordinary quiet becomes uncomfortable. This isn’t dysfunction; it’s adaptation. Your nervous system is doing its best with the data it has. On the other hand, if you had consistently safe relationships growing up, your neuroception may be more accurate at distinguishing real versus perceived threats, and stay in a calm, collected ventral vagal state.
Reading the Body's Signals
When I work with clients navigating trauma or relational pain I am listening to more than their words. I am watching their posture, their breathing, their tone, the energy in the room. One couple I worked with was recovering from infidelity. As the betrayed partner expressed hurt, the other slowly collapsed into the couch. Eyes glazed. Breath shallow. The words “I’m listening” were present, but his nervous system had left the building.
What looked like stonewalling or withdrawal was actually a dorsal vagal state. This shutdown was in response to feeling overwhelmed. Meanwhile, the betrayed partner’s nervous system lit up in sympathetic overdrive. She escalated, pressing for engagement, desperate to reconnect. Both were stuck in survival states, and until I helped them return to ventral vagal regulation, little healing could happen. Over time, staying in their nervous systems’ window of tolerance allowed realizations to unfold of how her childhood trauma of abandonment interacted with his trauma regarding an angry mother - and how any emotional shutdown activated her fears that he was leaving her - again.
The Window of Tolerance
This leads us to a key concept in trauma healing: the window of tolerance. This is the range where your nervous system functions well - where you can feel emotions without being hijacked by them. Think of it like driving a well-tuned car: responsive, resilient, able to hit bumps without spinning out.
Want a quick way to check your window in real life? Notice your breath. Shallow and fast often means fight‑or‑flight; flat or absent often means shutdown. Pressing your feet into the floor or exhaling slowly can help widen that window in the moment.
For those with trauma histories, that window is narrower. The smallest bump, a comment, tone, or memory, can send the system into overdrive or shutdown. Imagine a car with a super sensitive accelerator and really touchy brakes - this is what living in a dysregulated body can feel like. Therefore, the goal of healing is to widen the window of tolerance, to create more room for feeling, more room for connection, without flooding, freezing, or fleeing.
I recall an early session with a new client where I launched into a well-intentioned overview of trauma treatment. As I spoke, I watched her eyes widen and her shoulders slump. She barely said a word after that. I sensed something had gone wrong, but only in the next session did she find the words: “It felt like a lecture. Just like him.”
Her nervous system had collapsed in the face of what felt like intellectual dominance, a pain she’d endured for years with her narcissistic husband. What I thought was helpful psychoeducation had inadvertently replicated a threat.
She courageously asked for adjustment, so I did. More curiosity. Fewer facts. Gentle reflection, slower pacing, and co-created meaning. Over time, she re-engaged. Her voice grew steadier and body became more present. Little by little, her window of tolerance began to widen, not because I had the right information, but because she felt safe enough to stay.
How do you relate to the window of tolerance? On a normal day does your nervous system feel resilient to most stressors, or does it feel more sensitive to bumps on the road of life?
Autonomic Mapping and Emotional Literacy
In my work, I teach people to recognize their nervous system states through autonomic mapping. It’s essentially the practice of tracking emotional shifts between ventral, sympathetic, and dorsal states. This builds emotional literacy at the somatic level. It’s not just “I feel anxious;” it’s “I’m in sympathetic activation, and here’s what I need to get back into regulation.”
Regulation doesn’t always mean calm. It means being able to stay connected to yourself and others without being overwhelmed or shutting down. It means knowing how to come back to safety when life inevitably disrupts it.
Safety Isn’t a Thought
One of Polyvagal Theory’s most important insights is this: Safety is a state. You can’t logic your way into feeling safe. You have to experience it in your nervous system. That’s why affirmations or changing your thoughts don’t always work. That’s why therapy that ignores the body often stalls.
Healing happens through co-regulation, which are safe, attuned relationships that help your body remember what safety feels like. Sometimes this comes from a therapist. Sometimes it comes from a friend, a partner, or even a pet. Even a gentle hand on your chest or the warmth of the sun on your face can be enough to start the return.
Compassion for Your Biology
When you understand your nervous system, your inner world starts to make sense. The “overreaction” was a survival response, not a character flaw. The freeze was protection, not weakness. The panic, the shutdown, the need to flee - all of it was your body trying to help you. And it still is.
This understanding is the foundation for self-compassion. For knowing that what feels wrong with you is often what’s right - it's your body’s attempt to keep you alive. Once you see this, resistance begins to soften and curiosity grows. Healing becomes less about fixing and more about befriending what your body is trying to share with you: its inner wisdom.
Remember this vital truth: nothing in you is broken. Your nervous system has always been, and continues to be, trying to protect you. Healing isn't about fixing; it's about befriending - about listening to your body’s wisdom until you finally feel at home in yourself.
Crucially, safety isn’t a standalone concept; it’s the bedrock for all other attachment needs. Without it, acknowledgement and understanding can feel like exposure, comfort can feel smothering, clarity like control, and space like abandonment. But when safety is truly present, all these needs transform, becoming powerful catalysts for healing.
In the next blog called The Emotional Dashboard we’ll explore how our emotions are messengers for our attachment needs, and how meeting them restores balance and connection.
Safety isn’t something we can think into being. It’s something we feel when our attachment needs are met, and something we must learn to offer ourselves and each other, over and over again.
