Autumn: Trauma . We hear that word thrown around all the time now— in mental health discussions, in news headlines, even casually. But what “is” trauma, “really” ? And more importantly, how does it actually live in our bodies? How does it quietly influence how we feel, how we react, and how we heal? Rachel: Exactly, and it makes you wonder, why do some people seem to bounce back from “really” tough situations, while others just… get stuck? It’s like their bodies just freeze, and they can’t seem to move on. Can you “really” "unstick" yourself from something like that, or does trauma just leave permanent marks on you? Autumn: That's exactly the question Peter A. Levine tackles in his book, Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma. He takes a “really” interesting approach, actually. He looks at nature, specifically how animals deal with threats, as a way to understand human trauma . His argument is that trauma isn't just a mental thing; it's stored in our bodies, locked up as unfinished biological responses. Rachel: Right, and he doesn’t just leave it at the theory. Levine introduces Somatic Experiencing, which is his method, it’s all about using physical feelings and awareness to help people, you know, "wake their tigers" and work through those stuck trauma responses. Autumn: So, in this episode, we're going to explore three key ideas from Levine's work. First, we'll look at how trauma takes hold – not just as a mental wound, but as a kind of blocked survival energy in the body. Then, we'll get into the body's amazing ability to heal itself, if it's given the right tools. And finally, we'll zoom out a bit and talk about how trauma affects communities as a whole – how it keeps cycles of fear and suffering going, but also how healing together can “really” bring about change. Rachel: So, whether you are wondering why a deer can bound happily away from a near-death experience while we humans carry around the weight of our near-misses for years, or you are curious about how a whole society can begin to heal from deep wounds, we've got a lot to think about today. Let's jump in.

Autumn: So, Rachel, let's dive right in: what exactly “is” trauma? Peter Levine, in his work, makes a crucial point: trauma isn't just about the terrible event itself, but how it gets, well, “imprinted” on our bodies. It's all connected to those fight, flight, or freeze responses, which are basically hardwired into our nervous systems to protect us from threats. Think of a gazelle running from a lion, right? It either sprints for its life, or, if caught, it might freeze—playing dead, hoping the lion loses interest. Rachel: Right, it’s like nature's last-ditch effort—if I can't run or fight, maybe playing dead will do the trick. Fascinating. But, you know, we humans don't exactly roam the savannah anymore. I mean, most of us aren't facing lions on a daily basis. So, how does this apply to something like a car accident, or even childhood neglect? Autumn: That’s such a key question, Rachel. Levine brilliantly connects those primal survival instincts to human trauma. Take, for instance, a car accident. You're driving along, and suddenly, bam! A car swerves into your lane. Your body instantly kicks into high gear, right? Heart racing, muscles tensing, adrenaline surging. Now, even if you manage to avoid the accident, your body has already generated this surge of survival energy—energy designed to help you fight or flee. But here's the thing: if you don’t discharge that energy, it doesn’t just disappear. It gets locked in your system, potentially leading to anxiety, chronic stress, or even physical pain. Rachel: So, it's like your nervous system is a coiled spring. Unless you consciously release that tension, it keeps affecting you, long after the threat's gone. That actually explains a lot. I mean, so many people feel constantly "on edge" without really knowing why. Autumn: Precisely. And Levine goes even deeper with the freeze response, which he calls the most misunderstood survival mechanism. Think of it as the body slamming on the brakes so hard that the engine stalls. This freeze state is common in humans, especially during overwhelming experiences when fighting or fleeing feel impossible. But, unlike animals, we often don’t know how to "unfreeze." An animal might shake or tremble to physically release the pent-up energy, but humans tend to stay stuck. Rachel: So, instead of shaking it off, like a bird escaping a hawk, we just, hold it all in. And what does that actually feel like? Does Levine offer some real-world examples of this freeze response? Autumn: He does. One story that really resonated involves a child he calls Johnny. When Johnny was five, he fell off his bike and was briefly knocked unconscious. Although he physically recovered, he never really processed the shock and helplessness of that moment. Years later, as an adult, Johnny started experiencing sudden, intense panic attacks while doing something as ordinary as driving. His body was reacting to specific triggers—maybe the speed or the screech of tires—as if it were reliving the original trauma. Rachel: Wow. So, his body was basically saying, "Hey, we've been here before, and it was bad," even though Johnny’s conscious mind wasn't necessarily making the connection. Autumn: Exactly. Levine uses Johnny's story to illustrate that trauma isn't just a narrative in your head. It gets stored in your body as somatic memory—sensations, tensions, reactions. And that's why traditional talk therapy, which focuses primarily on cognitive processing, often falls short for trauma survivors. Rachel: Right, if the trauma lives in the body, then logically, you need to work with the body to heal it. But that raises the question: if these survival responses are natural and designed to protect us, why do they sometimes backfire? Why doesn’t the body naturally reset, like it seems to for other animals? Autumn: Levine argues that it’s partly because humans tend to override their instincts. We have these complex brains that rationalize, suppress, or just plain ignore what our bodies are telling us. After a traumatic event, we often jump straight into "pushing through" or "moving on," without giving ourselves the time to process what happened. Animals, on the other hand, instinctively take that time, right? They might literally tremble, run around in circles, or let out a primal scream. Humans, more often than not, just bottle it up, creating this disconnect between the mind and body. Rachel: So, we're, what, too smart for our own good? Or maybe we feel like showing any kind of emotional or physical release equates to weakness, so we just shut it down. Autumn: Precisely. And that suppression, that’s where the long-term effects of trauma can “really” take root. Levine describes some key symptoms that stem from unresolved trauma, things like hyperarousal, dissociation, and constriction. Hyperarousal is when your nervous system gets stuck in overdrive—you’re constantly on high alert, seeing danger everywhere. Dissociation, on the other hand, is almost like flipping a switch to escape overwhelming emotions, leaving you feeling numb or disconnected. And constriction? That’s the body literally tightening up, like you’re bracing for a hit even when there’s no immediate threat. Rachel: Okay, constriction definitely feels relatable. I mean, how many people complain about tension headaches, clenched jaws, or stiff shoulders without realizing it’s connected to stress or past experiences? It's like your body's bracing for a rattlesnake bite that may never come. Autumn: That's a fantastic metaphor. Levine actually uses the image of a hiker encountering a rattlesnake to describe how trauma narrows your focus. In that split second, the hiker's senses block out everything except the immediate threat. That's adaptive and life-saving in the short term, but when it becomes chronic, it can lead to problems like anxiety and hypervigilance. Rachel: And, let me guess, it all comes back to that sense of helplessness Levine talks about, right? Like the hiker freezes if they feel trapped. Just like someone in a car accident or, say, a kid who grows up in an abusive household, where the threats are constant. Over time, they carry that helplessness with them. Autumn: Exactly. Helplessness is this deeply ingrained feeling stemming from trauma, because it’s so tightly connected to survival. Imagine feeling stuck, unable to fight or flee—your body internalizes that as a fundamental truth: "I can't escape this." Over time, that belief chips away at your confidence and makes you more vulnerable to everyday stressors. But here's the good news, Rachel—acknowledging and working with these physiological responses is actually the very first step towards healing.

Autumn: Understanding the core mechanisms of trauma helps us see how healing can start with both somatic and psychological methods. This leads us to Levine's Somatic Experiencing, focusing on renegotiation. It’s “really” about reconnecting with your body just as much as it is about dealing with the trauma itself. The idea is to help release that trapped survival energy and get back your sense of control. Rachel: Okay, I've got questions already. Somatic Experiencing sounds super interesting, but also kind of… abstract, right? How does just focusing on "body sensations" actually heal trauma? And what's the deal with the shaking or trembling? Is that really all it takes to undo years of stress? Autumn: Those are good questions. Somatic Experiencing, or SE, focuses on the body's "felt sense"—that internal, non-verbal awareness of what's going on inside you. Think of it as tuning into things like a tight chest, goosebumps, or even subtle changes in your posture. Levine believes these sensations are like maps leading back to the trauma stored in the body. Rachel: So instead of pouring through a diary about your childhood, you’re diving into, like... tingling fingers? Autumn: In a way, yes. SE homes in on body sensations because they’re directly tied to those fight, flight, or freeze responses that didn't get resolved during the traumatic event. Levine's point is that when our bodies create survival energy during a threat, if we don’t release it—by shaking, crying, or even deep breathing—it gets trapped. And over time, that trapped energy shows up as anxiety, feeling numb, or physical tension. Rachel: Okay, but why are you keep bringing up this shaking thing? Is it really as simple as just trembling and you'll feel better? Because that sounds a little… out there. Autumn: Well, the shaking or trembling is just one way the body releases all that built-up energy. Levine noticed that animals in the wild often shake after they've had a close call – you know, like a gazelle that escapes a lion. Once it's safe, it'll tremble all over before calmly going back to the herd. That shaking isn't random; it's the body resetting itself, getting rid of that fight-or-flight energy from the close call. Rachel: So, animals have this built-in reset. So why don’t humans use it? Autumn: We do have it, but here’s the problem. Humans often override it. We're taught to "hold it together," suppress those natural body reactions, or overthink our emotions. Imagine someone finishing a stressful job interview; instead of letting themselves shake off the nerves, they tighten up, smile, and pretend to be completely calm. Over time, suppressing all that just adds to the tension we're carrying. Rachel: Interesting. So, the trembling isn't the cure itself—it's the body's way of, like, finishing what trauma interrupted. Completing the cycle, right? Autumn: Exactly. SE practitioners help people gently connect with their sensations, however small, and let the body do its thing. Take Nancy, for instance, a woman Levine worked with who had severe trauma from a childhood tonsillectomy. She struggled with panic attacks her whole life, mostly because she never resolved the helplessness she felt during that surgery. In an SE session, Nancy visualized a tiger, symbolizing her fear. Instead of freezing, she imagined herself slowly moving away from the tiger. That helped her nervous system complete the "flight" response it couldn’t during her surgery. And slowly, Nancy's panic decreased. Rachel: Wow, that's super interesting. So, no need to relive the whole trauma in detail, just work with the physical sensations. And I’m assuming this "renegotiation" thing is where SE is different from traditional therapies that have you re-experience everything? Autumn: Exactly. Traditional approaches can sometimes make things worse by having someone relive the event too vividly, which can overwhelm the nervous system. SE avoids that by working in manageable steps. Levine calls this "titration," which is breaking the trauma down into smaller pieces so they can be safely processed. Take Joe, for example. He developed really bad anxiety after a car accident. During SE, he focused on specific parts of the event, like the texture of the steering wheel or the color of the truck's headlights. By sticking to his "window of tolerance"—the range of emotions where he could still process things calmly—Joe could release the trapped energy without getting overwhelmed. Rachel: And his body reacted, right? Weren't you talking about this trembling earlier? Did his arms or legs just start shaking when he remembered the accident? Autumn: Yes, precisely! Joe’s body began releasing the trauma, and this happened through involuntary movements, like his arms shaking. Over time, he noticed a feeling of warmth returning to his limbs; a sign that his nervous system was coming out of the freeze state. These shifts allowed him to feel calm, rather than fear, when driving again. Rachel: That's wild, but it makes sense. It’s like the body speaks, but we’ve forgotten the language. So how does Levine make sure people stay grounded during all of this? I mean, I could see how digging into even small details of trauma could still set off some pretty big emotions. Autumn: That’s “really” where the gradual approach of SE “really” works. Practitioners are trained to help people explore trauma in a gentle way, always pausing when they show signs of being overwhelmed. Levine talks a lot about creating a safe space during therapy so clients continue to feel in control. He makes a point of staying within that "window of tolerance," to prevent people from being retraumatized. Rachel: And this isn’t just about healing old wounds, right? Levine talks a lot about transformation—how healing trauma can actually lead to growth. Autumn: Definitely. For Levine, the ultimate goal is reconnection—with your body, with the present moment, and even with a sense of purpose. SE isn’t just about “releasing” trauma; it’s about discovering new strengths. Many people say they feel more connected to their emotions, more resilient when stressed, and even more alive after going through SE. Rachel: So, the tiger isn’t just about fear—it’s about waking up and taking back your power. Autumn: Exactly. SE transforms trauma from something that holds us back into something that empowers us. Healing might not erase the past, but it can definitely open you up to new possibilities for emotional freedom and growth.

Autumn: So, with those individual healing strategies in mind, we can start to think about how to tackle societal and collective trauma, right? How to actually break those cycles of violence we see playing out. And ultimately, how to scale these insights—from individual experiences to really broad societal implications. So, thinking about collective healing and prevention. Rachel: Right, because if trauma, when it's unprocessed, can have such a profound influence on a single person's mind and body, it makes you wonder, what happens when that trauma is experienced on a community or societal level? Wars, natural disasters, systemic oppression—those events leave scars, don't they? I mean, they're not just gone the moment the event passes. Autumn: Absolutely. And that’s exactly where Levine's insights really broaden out. Trauma isn't just a 'me' problem; it ripples outward, and those effects can last for generations. Think about societies after a war or communities that have suffered from long-term oppression. It's not only the direct survivors who are carrying that pain; entire social structures can be molded by this unprocessed trauma. Rachel: So, when you talk about "ripple effects," are we talking about entrenched behaviors, established norms that have become ingrained? Things like pervasive mistrust, maybe aggression, or even a widespread apathy? Autumn: Yes, exactly. Levine points out that unresolved trauma on a societal level? It can pop up as cycles of violence, systemic inequality, and even deep social divisions. When people have to live in environments that are chronically unstable, or where they face constant oppression, those survival instincts, like fight, flight, or freeze, they don't just switch off. They dictate how people relate to each other, how they raise their kids, just how their communities function day-to-day. Rachel: So, it's not just individuals who get "stuck," then. Entire communities can find themselves locked in these cycles of fear or violence, unable to move forward and heal. And like with individuals, the longer it's ignored, the harder it becomes to break free. Does that sound about right? Autumn: Precisely. And one example that Levine brings up is how children who grow up in those kinds of environments end up internalizing the pain and dysfunction of their elders. Research into trauma-informed child psychology actually shows that when caregivers are emotionally unavailable or are constantly reactive because of their own trauma, it really impacts a child's ability to develop emotional regulation and resilience. Rachel: So, you're saying that if a parent or caregiver is continually in freeze or hyperarousal, that kind of state seeps into the next generation? And we're not just talking about nurture here, but almost like an inherited emotional climate? Autumn: Exactly, yes. And that's where trauma-informed approaches become, not just useful, but essential. Communities need to break that cycle by tackling both the individual and collective dimensions of trauma. Remember Margaret's story from Waking the Tiger? That one's a perfect illustration of all of this. Rachel: Oh yeah, Margaret! The woman who used leaves as a metaphor for her healing journey! She was able to transform a symbol of decay into one of growth through somatic work. I remember now. But I'm curious, how does her personal story tie into collective trauma? Autumn: Well, it's a metaphor for the bigger process. Margaret's healing showed how processing buried emotions can lead to profound renewal on an individual level, right? And actually, you can apply that same concept to societies. When communities acknowledge the history of pain they've carried—whether it's through storytelling, rituals, or other traditional practices—they begin to create pathways for collective transformation. Rachel: Okay, so for someone like Margaret, her experience felt very personal and contained. I get the metaphor, but, Autumn, how do you get large groups of people to engage in that kind of healing together? I mean, societies are messy and so divided. Autumn: True, but Levine emphasizes those communal strategies that foster trust and empathy. One powerful example he gives comes from war-torn regions, where different groups engage in shared rituals. For instance, mothers from opposing factions or sides have participated in musical gatherings where they sing and dance with their babies. These rituals? They're nonverbal, but they're deeply connective, and they help rebuild trust by emphasizing our shared humanity. Rachel: Wow, that's...incredible. Music and movement—almost like somatic therapies on a really large scale. I can see how it creates an unspoken sense of unity, even among people who might otherwise be in conflict, right? But I can also imagine it's not an easy process. I mean, rituals are surely just one piece of the puzzle. Autumn: Absolutely, and they're not exactly a quick fix. What they are is a starting point for building bridges and fostering dialogue. Another crucial element is creating safe spaces where collective pain can actually be acknowledged openly. People need to feel that their experiences are validated. But they also need to hear the stories of others, especially those they usually see as adversaries. And that's how you begin dismantling that "us versus them" mindset. Rachel: Right, because as long as people remain stuck thinking, “You are the problem,” nothing actually changes. By sharing stories, you humanize the other side, ultimately breaking down those barriers. But here's the skeptic in me asking: what about societies dealing with huge power imbalances? Where systemic issues keep reinforcing trauma? Autumn: That's such a valid point. And here, Levine's ideas really intersect with larger systemic approaches. Addressing collective trauma often starts from the ground up, through trauma-informed education, leadership, and child-rearing practices. Like, take community programs that teach caregivers how to respond to children in nurturing, predictable ways. These programs can make sure that children growing up in troubled environments aren't carrying that inherited cycle of trauma. Rachel: So basically, focusing on prevention as much as on healing? Giving kids different tools, so they're not as shaped by the same stress and pain their parents were. Autumn: Exactly. It's about investing in resilience. Trauma-informed approaches to education and parenting create an emotional foundation where kids feel safe expressing themselves, developing their emotional regulation, and ultimately breaking that cycle of dysfunction. And, when you scale that up, you're building healthier communities. Rachel: Okay, so we need communal rituals, safe spaces for storytelling, and trauma-sensitive parenting. It's a huge undertaking, but it sounds...hopeful, actually. But realistically, Autumn, how do you convince an entire society to care about any of this? Especially when they're still in survival mode? Autumn: Well, that’s the challenge, right? It often begins with awareness—acknowledging trauma as a collective issue instead of dismissing it as just a personal failing or isolated event. Levine's work highlights the importance of fostering connection and collaboration at every level, even small, community-driven projects, like just creating spaces for people to share stories, or even hosting these healing-focused events. Those can spark much larger movements, over time. Rachel: Right. And it doesn't have to be perfect, does it? Just opening the door to a real conversation is probably a victory in itself. Autumn: Exactly. Healing collective trauma? It requires patience, and it requires persistence. It's about planting seeds, much like Margaret's leaves, and cultivating them carefully. The ultimate goal is to establish a culture of empathy and prevention – one where societies don't just survive their struggles, but actually grow from them.

Autumn: Okay, so today we “really” dug into trauma, and, you know, we saw it's not just a mental thing – it’s deeply physical. It’s all tied to our body’s survival responses. We talked about Peter Levine's Somatic Experiencing, and how paying attention to our physical sensations and finishing those interrupted trauma cycles can lead to real healing. Rachel: Right, and we didn’t just focus on the individual, did we? We stepped back to see how unaddressed trauma impacts entire communities. The good news is, there’s a path forward. Things like shared rituals, education that understands trauma, and just connecting with each other as humans, they offer strong possibilities for healing together. Autumn: Absolutely. For me, the biggest thing is realizing that healing – whether it’s personal or for a community – it's about taking back control. Trauma might leave its mark, but it doesn't have to be the end of the story. Like Levine says, that same energy that gets us stuck in fear can also set us free. Rachel: So, the key takeaway here: Pay attention to what your body is telling you. That tight feeling in your chest, shaky hands, that weird sense of unease – those are clues. They’re telling you to listen, to deal with things, to heal. And as a society, we should be asking ourselves, "How do we build environments where these conversations, this kind of healing, can happen for everyone?" Autumn: Exactly! Because that “tiger” inside us, it's not just about fear. It also represents our courage, our ability to bounce back, and our chance to start fresh. Let's wake it up!