A traumatised body is like a house that’s been broken into… even after the intruder is gone, the house is not the same. The locks feel weaker, the windows rattle at night, and every creak in the floorboards sounds like danger returning. The body, like this house, rewires itself to stay alert: doors are triple-checked, lights are left on, alarms are set higher. What once was a place of rest now becomes a fortress, preparing for a threat that may never come back.

 

What’s more than this, our once trusted alarm systems have been tampered with. Normally, the alarm sounds only if someone actually forces their way in. But after trauma, the wiring changes: the alarm trips at the slightest vibration—a gust of wind, a branch against the window, even the owner’s own footsteps. Inside, the lights flicker on and off (the nervous system shifting between hyperarousal and shutdown), the boiler overheats (stress hormones flooding the body), and the walls grow damp with condensation (the immune system straining under pressure). Even when the danger has passed, the house doesn’t return easily to how it was before. It keeps bracing for intrusion, exhausting its own systems in the process.

 

Healing after trauma is like gradually repairing and retraining the house’s alarm system. At first, the alarm is so sensitive that even a whisper sets it blaring. Healing doesn’t mean ripping it out altogether — the system is still needed for real safety — but it does mean we can carefully rewire it so it learns the difference between a passing breeze and an actual break-in. Over time, the wiring is tested and adjusted (the nervous system learning regulation through therapy, breath, grounding, and safe connection). The overheated boiler is serviced so it runs at a steadier temperature (stress hormones begin to stabilise), and the damp walls slowly dry (the immune system recovers from chronic strain). Eventually, the house becomes not just a fortress on edge, but a home again — still protected, but no longer ruled by false alarms.