The Body Keeps the Score: How One Book Changed My Perspective on Trauma

Before reading The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk, I had no real understanding of trauma. Sure, I’d heard the word thrown around in passing, but I never connected it to myself or my experiences.

I didn’t know that trauma isn’t just about “big” events—it’s about how our nervous systems respond to anything that feels like too much, too fast, or too soon. I didn’t know that “seeing red” wasn’t just a phrase; it’s a genuine autonomic reaction to a perceived threat. And I had no idea that when someone is in that heightened state, they can lose awareness of their behavior—or, in extreme cases, become explosively reactive.

Content Warning: This book contains difficult material, including descriptions of war, sexual abuse, and other traumatic events, so proceed with caution (they are not, however, covered in this post).

This book changed all of that.

For most of my life, I would’ve described myself as a stick of dynamite. I lay low most of the time, but when a spark hit—a perceived threat like hierarchy, snobbery, bad manners, or invalidation—I’d explode. My reactions were fiery, and they left me feeling drained, guilty, and confused.

Reading this book made me realise that these reactions weren’t “just how I was.” They were deeply rooted in my nervous system and tied to unprocessed trauma. Bessel’s explanation of the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems fascinated me. He shared stories of patients with all kinds of trauma and showed how the body carries these unhealed wounds.

The Healing Tools I Didn’t Know I Had

One of the most surprising things I learned? Singing calms your vagus nerve.

The vagus nerve is a key part of our parasympathetic system—the one that helps us relax and feel safe. Singing, humming, or chanting can activate this nerve and bring your body back to a state of calm. Without knowing it, my love of karaoke had been a secret weapon at social events. Now, I practice singing more intentionally when I feel overwhelmed.

Yoga was another tool Bessel recommended, and I can’t vouch for it enough. Whether it’s a gentle stretch or a full practice, yoga gives me clarity and space to reconnect with myself.

Why Talk Therapy Alone Didn’t Work for Me

I’d spent years in talk therapy and working through self-led DBT workbooks. While they gave me tools for navigating day-to-day challenges, they never touched the deeper layers of my trauma.

Bessel explained why: trauma isn’t just a “bad memory.” It’s a collection of unprocessed fragments that live in our subconscious and affect how we see the world. To heal, you need therapies that address these wounds on a subconscious level.

For me, that was EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing). I started weekly sessions and stuck with it for eight months. It was intense, and at times, overwhelming. I had vivid dreams, uncovered memories I didn’t know were there, and faced feelings I’d buried for years.

Unfortunately, my therapist ghosted me (I know, the irony), and I stopped the process. Looking back, I wish I’d kept going elsewhere because I’m aware of how much work is still left to do.

From Explosive to Shut Down

As aforementioned, for most of my life, I was explosive—ready to fight at the first spark of disrespect, invalidation, or a perceived threat. My reactions were fiery and uncontrollable, and I often felt powerless to stop them.

But over time, something shifted. After years of being a firework ready to go off, I went completely in the other direction. I shut down. Emotionally, romantically, socially—I switched into survival mode. It was as though my nervous system had declared, “Enough is enough,” and pulled the plug.

For the past three years, I’ve been stuck in this chronic shutdown. While it shielded me from pain, it also cut me off from connection and joy. I stopped chasing relationships and instead focused all my energy inward—or sometimes just on surviving the day. In those years, I went on only three dates, none of which progressed past the first. I had to force myself to go on them, and each time, I felt stiff and disconnected, as though my body and mind were screaming, “This isn’t safe. No one feels safe.”

Now, I’m facing the challenge of clawing my way out of that shutdown. It’s daunting. But I’m slowly working to create safety within myself so I can reconnect with the world—and with love—in a way that feels genuine.

Here’s what I’m exploring:

1. Reconnecting with My Body
   Practices like yoga, deep breathing, or even humming help me ground myself. The physical act of tuning in reminds me that I’m here, now, and not stuck in the past.

2. Grounding Techniques
   When I feel frozen, I use simple tools: noticing five things around me, feeling my feet on the floor, or focusing on a calming scent. These small practices anchor me in the present moment.

3. Creative Expression
   Journaling or art lets me explore feelings I can’t quite put into words. It’s a way to process without pressure, even when I feel stuck.

4. Trauma-Informed Therapy
   Revisiting methods like EMDR or somatic therapy to process the unhealed wounds that keep me frozen. These approaches worked before, and I know they can again.

5. Gentle Social Connection
   I’m challenging myself to take small steps: replying to a message, meeting someone for a short coffee, or just being open to a moment of vulnerability.

   I had always considered myself to be a very vulnerable and open individual, but lately, I’ve realised that communicating my needs isn’t my strong suit. Instead, I have a tendency to lean more into avoidant tendencies—something I’ll dive into more deeply in another post. Recognising this has been eye-opening and, honestly, a little uncomfortable. But it’s helping me understand how I can build better, more honest connections with the people around me.

6. Self-Compassion
   Instead of berating myself for feeling stuck, I’m learning to meet those moments with kindness. Progress is progress, no matter how slow.

I’m starting to see this work as less about “fixing” myself and more about nurturing a sense of safety within. The more I lean into what feels kind and authentic, the closer I get to thawing that frozen part of me and letting life—and love—flow back in.

What about you? Have you experienced shutdowns or explosive reactions in your own journey? What has helped you find balance and connection?

Have you read The Body Keeps the Score or another book that gave you a deeper understanding of trauma? I’d love to hear about the insights that changed your perspective—or any recommendations for other eye-openers on the subject.