Trauma is not an event—it’s a neurobiological response to it.
When we experience something that overwhelms our capacity to cope, and there’s no possibility for discharge or support, the neurobiological system switches to survival. This is a direct brain response, with safety as its top priority.

Especially when this happens early in life—and not just once, but as a repeated pattern—the neurobiology begins to develop around survival. This is what we call developmental trauma: not caused by a specific incident, but by a lack of safe attachment. The only logical conclusion a child can draw in such a situation is that something must be wrong with what they feel or do.

This is the most common form of trauma. The brain and body then don’t develop through safety and connection, but through the need to avoid rejection.

What we normally think of as “ourselves”—how we think, feel, and behave—is often built on survival strategies. These adaptations become part of your default state and feel completely natural. They’re not conscious choices, but the result of how your brain has learned to function.

A traumatized brain

A brain that has structurally adapted to danger works differently in several ways. Click or tap the lines below to learn more:

What often happens in a neurobiology shaped by survival is that your attention shifts outward—toward the external world—for explanations, control, and solutions. You’ve learned that focusing outwards keeps you safe: it helps you meet expectations, avoid mistakes, and reduce the risk of rejection. Listening to yourself doesn’t feel safe—because if your inner world has been repeatedly dismissed or shamed, it makes sense to push it away as much as possible.

This often shows up as:

• Overanalyzing and overthinking

• People-pleasing and seeking safety through others

• Avoiding situations or people, sometimes to the point of isolation

• Setting strong and immediate boundaries

• Constant busyness and distraction, or freezing and being unable to do anything

• Perfectionism and hyperfocus

• Numbing or stimulating emotions through food, behavior, or substances—sometimes leading to addiction

• Seeking control through excessive structure, organization, or rituals

All of these are automatic, unconscious responses. Simply “doing it differently” doesn’t work—because what’s needed first is something deeper: a neurobiology that learns to recognize safety and reorganize itself around it.

Dissociation often sounds like something strange or serious—but it’s actually something everyone does. When you’re absorbed in a book or a movie, can’t remember the drive home, or find yourself staring at your phone without registering anything consciously—those are all forms of dissociation. Your attention to yourself and the present moment temporarily switches off. That’s normal. In fact, it’s our most basic survival mechanism.

If you can’t fight or flee in an unsafe situation—if you can’t physically escape—your system switches to internal absence. You no longer have to fully experience the moment or feel what’s happening inside. In that case, dissociation becomes a defense mechanism of the neurobiology. And if it happens often, or starts early in life, it becomes a structural and “normal” pattern.

Especially if you grew up in an environment where safety was lacking, dissociation becomes the most effective option. Children can’t run away or fight. So checking out is the only way to cope. And that sense of danger isn’t limited to violence or extreme neglect—parents who dissociate themselves and are emotionally unavailable, or display dominant or aggressive behavior, are not safe for a child who depends on them for survival.

When dissociation becomes your automatic response to tension or danger, it’s no longer about getting lost in a book. It’s not temporary or conscious—it becomes involuntary, and you can’t just snap out of it through willpower. Often, you don’t even notice it, because it feels so normal. Your neurobiology had to organize itself this way—because being absent felt safer than being present during overwhelming experiences. The system then turns to the external world to seek control.

In the context of trauma, dissociation was vital for survival—and has now become a normal part of your default state.

Dissociation can show up in many different ways:

• No connection to your body or your emotions

• Reality feels unreal, distant, or blurry

• You don’t remember what you did last year—or even an hour ago

• You switch quickly between (extreme) states, but later don’t remember much, or recall it differently

• Your behavior or thoughts feel like they aren’t yours, as if you’re watching them from the outside

These are all expressions of the same protective system.

Dissociation and society
Our society reinforces dissociation. Everything is about understanding, performing, proving yourself, and adapting. And that’s exactly how a survival-based system is created—one that cannot heal. From early childhood, we learn that what we feel, think, or need depends on the approval of adults and systems around us—and on the space they allow for it. This creates a disconnect, and on a societal level, a widespread degree of dissociation and trauma.

And yet, we’re expected to “stop complaining,” leave the past behind, break our patterns, show up with confidence, and let go of uncomfortable feelings. We may want to do those things—but neurobiologically, it’s simply not possible.

Dissociation, then, is not strange.
It’s normal in moments of rest, an automatic reaction to unsafety, and something our society actively encourages and sustains.