In this new paradigm, in the Age of Aquarius, we are witnessing a beautiful and inspiring collective shift in consciousness. More than ever, people are recognizing that trauma isn’t just a mental or emotional experience, it lives in the body, the Soma. This awareness is transforming lives, mine included. But how does this happen? How do we work with it, understand it, and ultimately, heal?
There are countless perfectly worded definitions of trauma, ranging from major to complex, relational, and developmental. Each form shapes how we talk, walk, and move through the world. But how does trauma manifest as physical ailments? Why does an old (potentially undiagnosed) physical symptoms persist, relentlessly? Why do my shoulders ache? Why is my vision or hearing affected by something that happened 20+ years ago? This is what I want to explore today.
From as early as in utero, a baby senses, absorbs, and makes sense of the energetic field of the mother and her environment. The baby picks up on muscle tension, the release of cortisol, and the subtle cues of what is safe and what is not. This early imprinting sets the foundation for how our nervous system responds to the world.
Our bodies contain a connective tissue called fascia, a thin, sensitive casing that surrounds and supports every organ, vessel, nerve, and muscle. Fascia does more than provide structure, it holds memory. It records the moments when we brace for impact, the tension of fear, and the shutting down of emotions. Over time, this becomes a pattern, a map of our survival strategies etched into our tissues.
The body tenses, muscles contract in response to fear, survival, shame, anger, or grief. If this happens repeatedly, it becomes a pattern, or if a traumatic event is particularly intense, the body weaves that experience into its very fabric.
Moments of trauma are essentially timestamped by our fascia. When a body contracts in fear, shame, or grief, that tension can become habitual, repeating itself when triggered. I was in a car accident in 2020. I pressed down so hard on the brake that the action froze into my biology. Now, whenever I experience threat—not just in a car, but even in relational moments of tension, the same muscles activate, tightening my psoas, hip flexors, lower abdomen, and legs. This learned pattern creates chronic pain and imbalance, and it’s something I’m working with, through somatic awareness.
Witnessing something unbearable to see or hear - maybe a traumatic event, or even just a person who regularly sat to your left or right, associated with distress, can shape our bodies, and our sensory experience. Over time, the soma attempts to protect itself by restricting movement, stiffening the neck, dulling hearing, or subtly and unconsciously turning away. These patterns become embedded in the fascia, shaping posture, perception, and even impairing our senses.
Trauma is also passed down intergenerationally. We unconsciously mirror the postures, behaviours, and protective strategies of our caregivers. We learn when to speak up and when to silence ourselves by swallowing our words, bracing, puffing out our chest, shrinking, or armouring ourselves are patterns inherited from generations before us. If grief once inhibited a family member’s ability to express love, to say "I love you," to touch, to show affection, this, too, is learned and passed down. Over time, the fascia around the heart can harden, creating a protective barrier that holds love in, but also keeps it from fully flowing out.
If our lineage carried scarcity and survival fears, the tension of financial insecurity can live in our fascia, shaping our physical and emotional responses.
Scarcity - the fear around money, the belief that there’s never enough doesn’t just live in the mind; it’s embedded in our connective tissue. We carry the survival responses of ancestors who endured financial hardships, economic crashes, famine, displacement, or systemic oppression - hardships we may never have faced firsthand, yet they shape our nervous system's response to security and abundance. If our lineage experienced a time when food was scarce, work was unstable, or money was unpredictable, our bodies might still brace for financial insecurity, even when we have enough. We might notice a tightening in the gut when checking our bank account, a contraction in the chest when discussing bills, or a clenching in the jaw when making a big financial decision. These are deeply ingrained, inherited survival responses.
When we were told to “wipe that look off our face” or “calm down,” how did we respond? We unconsciously tightened our throats, held back tears, stiffened our shoulders, and compressed our chests. The ability to suppress emotion became a necessary skill in moments of need, ingrained through subtle micro-adjustments in the soma that evolved into survival mechanisms. Over time, these patterns solidified, manifesting as chronic tension, pain, or physical symptoms. But just as they were learned, they can also be unwound —with the right awareness, care, and somatic support.
The incredible thing is that the same intelligence that helped us survive is also available to heal us. This is why I believe so deeply in complementing psychotherapy with somatic therapy, bodywork, breathwork, and movement. For those working with plant medicine or psychedelics to release trauma, the integration piece is crucial. We can release all we want, but if we don’t understand our patterns, our body will continue to organize itself back into familiar tensions, winding and torquing our fascia back to how it was. As the saying goes, "If nothing changes, nothing changes."
Awareness is the key to healing. When we tend to the body with understanding and care, when we truly inhabit our body, we have the potential to bring our senses back online and heal in miraculous ways, returning to wholeness.
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