The Body as a Protector

There is a part of us that is always listening. It listens for footsteps in the hallway, for the shift in someone’s voice, for the mood of a room before words are even spoken. It notices the tiniest signs that others overlook. For those who have lived through trauma, this part of the body becomes a dedicated protector. It stays on guard, scanning and bracing, long after the danger has passed or while it continues in daily life. 

People often tell me they feel ashamed of how their body reacts. “Why did I freeze?” “Why do I always say yes when I want to say no?” “Why does my heart pound for no reason?” But what looks like failure is the body’s way of keeping watch. It is not weakness. It is loyalty. 

How the Protector Learns 

When life has been overwhelming, the body learns quickly. It learns which sounds to track, which faces signal risk, which rooms feel unsafe or where the exit is. It knows when to stay silent, when to make itself small, when to leave its own feelings behind to get through the day. This learning is fast, wise, and persistent. The body does not forget easily. 

That is why you might notice ordinary moments turning extraordinary in your body. Your shoulders rise at the sound of someone clearing their throat. Your jaw locks in the middle of a meeting. A simple text makes your stomach sink. Or you go blank mid-conversation and feel like you’ve left the room entirely. These aren’t flaws. They are your protector stepping in. 

The Many Faces of Protection 

Protection does not always look the same. Sometimes it is fiery and loud, sometimes quiet and hidden. Over time, the body builds a whole library of protective strategies. 

• Fight: Energy floods in to defend. Muscles tighten, voice rises, anger flares. The protector says, “I will not let this harm me again.” 

• Flight: The body prepares to escape. Heart races, eyes scan for exits, breath shortens. The protector says, “I will get away before it is too late.” 

• Freeze: Stillness takes over. The body slows, movement stops, thoughts fog. The protector says, “If I stay still, I may be spared.” 

• Fawn: Appeasement becomes the shield. Words agree too quickly, smiles smooth over tension, needs are hidden. The protector says, “If I keep them pleased, I will be safe.” 

• Faint: Collapse arrives. The body goes weak, dizzy, or even loses consciousness. The protector says, “If I disappear, I may survive this.” 

• Flag: Energy drains away slowly. Exhaustion or resignation sets in. The protector says, “If I surrender, I will conserve what little I have left.” 

Each of these is a form of care. Your body chose the path it believed would keep you here. And here you are.  

The Window of Safety 

There is a place in the nervous system where the protector can rest, even if just for a moment. This place is sometimes called the window of tolerance, but I think of it as the window of safety. Inside this window, the body does not have to choose fight, flight, or freeze. It can simply be. 

Within this window: 

• The heart beats steadily.  

• Breath flows without strain. 

• Emotions rise and fall without flooding or disappearing. 

• Thoughts feel clear and connected. 

• The body feels anchored enough to engage with the world. 

Outside the window, the protector rushes back in, sounding alarms and using its strategies to shield you. For people who have experienced trauma, the window can feel very narrow. You may not even realize you’ve left the window until you notice your body racing, shutting down, or pleasing automatically. This is not failure. It is the protector doing its job too well. Oh! Now you’re probably wondering, “how do I broaden my window?”. Don’t worry, I’ve got you. I have included some simple techniques to broaden the window in the last section of this article. 

The mind often believes that if we simply think the right thought, “It’s over now,” or “I’m safe here”, the body will follow. But the body speaks its own language. It listens not to sentences but to sensations. It listens to the pace of your breath, the warmth of your muscles, the rhythm of your steps, the feeling of the chair beneath you, the tone of someone’s voice, or the softness of your own touch. 

Reconnecting with the body means learning to listen and communicate in the language of your body. For many trauma survivors, the body feels like unfamiliar territory. It may seem unreliable, overwhelming, or even frightening. Numbness, panic, heaviness, or pain may have become the normal state. To turn back toward the body can feel like approaching a stranger you once knew well but drifted away from. It takes patience to rebuild trust. 

This reconnection is not about control. It is not about forcing the body to calm down or demanding that it “behave.” It is about relationship. You are learning how to sit with your own protector, how to say gently, “I see how hard you are working. I know you are keeping watch. Let’s try resting together for a moment.” 

Each small act of tuning in, noticing your breath, stretching your fingers, placing your feet firmly on the ground, is like knocking softly on the body’s door and saying, “I am here with you.” Over time, these gestures remind the protector that not every moment requires alarm. Slowly, the nervous system begins to widen its window of safety. 

Gentle Practices for Easing the Protector 

These practices are not about fixing yourself. They are about giving the protector evidence that safety is possible.  

• Grounding with the senses: Look around and name five things you can see, four you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, one you can taste. This anchors the protector in the here and now. 

• Breathe with kindness: Allow your exhale to be one or two counts longer than your inhale. Do not force it. The protector often softens when it hears this rhythm. 

• Orientation to space: Slowly let your eyes wander until they settle on something steady or pleasant in the room. The protector learns safety when it sees there is no threat nearby. 

• Soothing touch: Rest a hand on your chest or belly or place a warm cloth there. The body responds to warmth and contact as signals of care. 

• Movement: Walk, stretch, sway, or gently shake out your hands. The protector often holds energy that never got released. Movement gives it a way out. 

• Sound and voice: Hum, sigh, or sing softly. Vibrations from your own voice calm pathways in the nervous system to which the protector pays close attention. 

• Connection: Speak with someone you trust while walking or sitting side by side. The shared rhythm of connection tells the protector it does not have to stand watch alone. 

A Final Word 

If you recognize yourself in these words, let this be a reminder: you are not broken. The way your body reacts is not evidence of weakness, but of devotion. The protector inside you has worked tirelessly to keep you alive. And with care, repetition, and gentleness, that same protector can learn new ways of keeping you safe, ways that include stillness, presence, and belonging. 

The body remembers. But the body can also relearn. Step by step, your protector can put down its armour, and you can feel more at home in yourself. 

References 

Herman, J. L. (1992). Trauma and recovery: The aftermath of violence - from domestic abuse to political terror. Basic Books. 

Levine, P. A. (1997). Waking the tiger: Healing trauma. North Atlantic Books. 

Ogden, P., Minton, K., & Pain, C. (2006). Trauma and the body: A sensorimotor approach to psychotherapy. W. W. Norton & Company. 

Porges, S. W. (2011). The polyvagal theory: Neurophysiological foundations of emotions, attachment, communication, and self-regulation. W. W. Norton & Company. 

Siegel, D. J. (1999). The developing mind: Toward a neurobiology of interpersonal experience. Guilford Press. 

Siegel, D. J. (2010). The mindful therapist: A clinician’s guide to mindsight and neural integration. W. W. Norton & Company. 

van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The body keeps the score: Brain, mind, and body in the healing of trauma. Viking.