not everyone feels safe in their own body.
image by daniella kassif for soma intimacy®.
not everyone feels safe in their own body.
during a workshop i facilitated recently, i invited participants in a practice to sense a part of their body where they could connect with comfort and a sense of safety. during the sharing after the practice one participant shared that they realized that they could not find any place of safety within themselves. they recognized how until recently while dating their ex-partner, they had felt a sense of safety, but only in that relationship, not in themselves. when that relationship ended, they were left without any internal refuge, highlighting their reliance on external co-regulation. that was a strong reminder for me. the idea of “feeling safe in your own body” is too often taken for granted in wellness or healing spaces. yet for many, this is not a starting point but a long, complex, and non-linear journey.
for survivors of sexual violence, those living with the ongoing legacies of patriarchy and colonization, or people growing up under systemic oppression and daily microaggressions, or childhood trauma of neglect, the body may be experienced as a place of danger, confusion, or betrayal. for some, being constantly in a fight-or-flight mode, or stuck in survival responses, leaves no room to feel at home in the body. not to speak of feeling their body as a resource of pleasure or creativity. this trauma can manifest through chronic stress or inflammation, depression, ptsd, or a deeply ingrained sense of shame and guilt. it is not simply about isolated incidents of harm, but the repeated denial of one’s needs, dignity, and truth.
co-regulation and its gaps.
many of us do not have an internal sense of safety at all. instead, we might only feel safe in certain relationships or external contexts where another person (or group of people) helps regulate the environment (co-regulation - for some a beautiful way of connecting, for others pure survival). this is not a personal failure, but a sign of how relational safety can become a survival anchor.
for some a sense of calm or containment is often outsourced rather than internally accessible. this can make engaging in embodiment practices feel alienating or uncomfortable. asking someone to "go inward" or "listen to your body" during asanas, a breathwork or somatic bodywork session may provoke anxiety, panic, or shutdown if the body has only been a source of danger or distress. or one notices numbness connected with a feeling of fear to go deeper, which can be the body’s way of protecting itself.
it is vital to find one's own practice and rhythm and that feels accessible. additionally, going slowly and gently can support as well as giving oneself the permission to always go back to the basics, take a pause and at one’s own pace according to one’s needs.
the weight of trauma on the body.
experiences of repeated trauma, whether from sexual violence, oppression, or living under systems of patriarchy and colonial violence, can anchor the nervous system in hypervigilance, collapse, or chronic freeze states.
living under these conditions affects our very capacity to imagine safety in our own flesh. the burden of microaggressions, those subtle, everyday insults and invalidations, accumulates, compounding stress and deepening disconnection from the body.
this can result in a nervous system wired for constant survival, where the body becomes a battlefield rather than a place of refuge.
how lack of safety can feel in the body.
when the body does not feel safe, it often goes into a survival state: fight, flight, freeze, or collapse. here are typical signs:
fight / flight (sympathetic activation):
rapid, shallow breathing
racing heart
muscle tension (ready to fight or run)
clenched jaw, fists
dry mouth
hot flashes, sweaty palms
constant scanning for threat (hypervigilance)
sense of urgency, irritation, rage, fear
restlessness, fidgeting
freeze / collapse (dorsal vagal shutdown):
sense of numbness or disconnection
heavy, drained, like you can’t move
feeling “far away” or foggy
low blood pressure, cold extremities
blank face, monotone voice
hopelessness, shame, or deep withdrawal
loss of appetite, digestive shutdown
hard to make eye contact
a sense that nothing matters, or it’s too late
how safety can feel in the body.
when you feel a sense of safety, the body is generally in a more regulated state. here are common felt-senses, physical cues, and symptoms of safety:
steady, calm breath, neither shallow nor forced
heartbeat is slow and steady
muscles feel soft, relaxed, at ease
no sense of threat scanning or “checking the room”
grounded posture (feet connect to the ground, spine at ease)
warmth or even tingling in the chest, belly, hands
face feels soft, jaw relaxed
playfulness, curiosity, or even pleasure is possible
ability to make eye contact comfortably
the sense that you have options and don’t need to act impulsively
thoughts feel clearer, with less frantic energy
you can rest, digest, and socially engage
in polyvagal theory language, this is a ventral vagal state: safe, socially engaged, open.
why is this important?
your body’s signals are not random; they are survival strategies wired over millions of years. when people experience trauma caused by violence, oppression, or neglect (or others), the absence of safety can feel like the only known state. conversely, even tiny experiences of calm or connection can begin to teach the body what safety feels like, sometimes for the first time.
internal safety has to be built with care, curiosity, and collective support.
safety is not just a mental concept - it's a somatic experience that must be felt in the nervous system. and for those with histories of trauma caused by violence, oppression, or neglect (and others), their nervous system has learned that hypervigilance, dissociation, or appeasement are necessary survival strategies. building internal safety requires more than insight. it involves:
practicing regulation skills in safe-enough containers (safer spaces)
giving oneself the permission to go in a pace that aligns with one’s needs and doesn’t feel overwhelming
naming and respecting boundaries (including the right not to feel a sense of safety right away)
having access to healing environments where your lived experiences are validated and not minimized
learning to identify micro-moments of safety in specific body parts, memories, or relational interactions
building your own resources: slowly and gently.
healing often begins not inside the body, but in relationship. trauma-sensitive work aims to create safer conditions where people can experiment with finding micro-moments of safety. this might involve discovering a part of the body that feels less threatened, a breath that feels soothing, a piece of music that softens the nervous system or an image or movement that creates a sense of relief. these moments may be fleeting at first. but they matter. this work is not about reaching a state of permanent calm. it’s about building resources (internal and external) that people can return to when they are activated or dysregulated. these become anchors: small places of safety that can grow and evolve. these anchors can then be strengthened, slowly, as resources to return to.
somatic bodywork can support this process, helping people build their own resources for self-regulation. step by step. but it cannot instantly override years of survival adaptations. it takes time, requires practice and patience. healing depends on safe-enough containers, consistent support, and a deep respect for a person’s pace.
a note on polyvagal theory.
many somatic approaches draw on polyvagal theory, which suggests our nervous system uses different pathways to manage safety, danger, and life-threat states. its language of “ventral vagal” (safe/social) and “dorsal vagal” (shutdown/freeze) responses has been deeply influential in trauma healing circles. however, critics argue it oversimplifies or over-generalizes complex neurobiological and social realities, especially across cultures and histories of oppression. it remains a helpful framework, but not the only lens.
closing reflections.
telling someone to “just feel safe” or “tell yourself you're safe” in their body ignores the labor of re-patterning a nervous system that has lived in defense mode. true healing is about building resources: slowly, carefully, and repeatedly, with patience, relational attunement, and safer spaces.
it is about planting seeds of self-trust and small moments of safety, which over time may grow. safety is not a final destination, but an ongoing, living practice, unfolding with curiosity, care, and collective support.
by dennis obanla
july 2025
