Emotional Regulation & Nervous System • March 3, 2024
SUMMARY
You carry the quiet, aching weight of relational trauma because your early caregivers consistently left you feeling unsafe, unseen, or unimportant—not because of a single event, but because of repeated emotional neglect and inconsistency. Your nervous system learned to survive in an unpredictable environment by either constantly scanning for danger or shutting down, which means your body’s alarm system often misfires—even when your mind knows you are safe. Understanding that your nervous system was shaped long before you had the tools to recognize dysfunction allows you to hold compassion for yourself and accept that you truly did the best you could with what you had. You couldn’t have known better because your nervous system was shaped by early relational trauma. Relational trauma builds up through consistent emotional neglect, not just single events.
Nervous system dysregulation means your body’s built-in alarm system — the part that tells you when you’re safe or in danger — gets stuck firing too much, too little, or at the wrong times because of trauma’s imprint on your early development. It is not a sign of weakness, overreaction, or failure of willpower, even though your conscious mind might wish it operated differently. For you reading this, it explains why you might feel on edge, numb, or exhausted in ways that don’t make sense logically but are very real bodily experiences. Your nervous system is still trying to protect you, but it’s learned from the past, not the present — and that’s why you couldn’t have known better then, no matter how much you wish you had.
You carry the quiet, aching weight of relational trauma because your early caregivers consistently left you feeling unsafe, unseen, or unimportant—not because of a single event, but because of repeated emotional neglect and inconsistency.
Your nervous system learned to survive in an unpredictable environment by either constantly scanning for danger or shutting down, which means your body’s alarm system often misfires—even when your mind knows you are safe.
Understanding that your nervous system was shaped long before you had the tools to recognize dysfunction allows you to hold compassion for yourself and accept that you truly did the best you could with what you had.
Despite relational trauma, we often imagine we should have or could have known better. But that’s just not realistic.
Relational Trauma
Relational trauma is the psychological injury that results from repeated experiences of feeling unsafe, unseen, or unvalued in significant relationships — particularly early ones. It doesn’t require a single catastrophic event; it accumulates through patterns of emotional neglect, inconsistency, or control in the relationships that were supposed to teach you what love looks like.
Summary
Most of us who grew up with relational trauma carry a quiet, aching belief that we should have known better — chosen differently, seen the red flags sooner. But your nervous system was shaped long before you had the tools to recognize dysfunction. This post is a compassionate reality check: you did the best you could with what you had, and that is genuinely enough.
Nervous System Dysregulation
Your nervous system is the body’s threat-detection apparatus. When it’s been shaped by relational trauma, it can get stuck in patterns of hypervigilance (always scanning for danger) or hypoarousal (shutting down to cope). Nervous system dysregulation means your body’s alarm system fires too easily, too often, or not at all — regardless of what your conscious mind knows to be true.
Relational trauma refers to psychological injury that occurs within the context of important relationships, particularly those with primary caregivers during childhood. Unlike single-incident trauma, relational trauma involves repeated experiences of emotional neglect, inconsistency, manipulation, or abuse within bonds where safety and trust should have been foundational.
Yes, of course, it would be wonderful if you knew what you know now ten, twenty, thirty years ago.
Imagining the roads you might have taken, the choices you might have made differently, and the different lives you could have led if you didn’t have so much dysfunction in your background…
It’s SUCH a tempting thought, isn’t it?
To imagine a life that could have been if you hadn’t spent the first few decades in sheer survival and autopilot because your nervous system was so dysregulated and your brain architecture so negatively impacted…
Better still, it would be wonderful if what happened to you had never happened at all.
To have grown up with good-enough guardians, hit your age-appropriate developmental milestones and wrestled with the normative angsts of childhood and adolescence…
Angsts like:
Do they like me?
Do I like them?
Who am I apart from my parents?
What clothes symbolize who I really am?
What kind of college or university suits me best?
When should I go on birth control?
Why won’t they let me have more screen time?
Normative struggles.
Instead of…
Which version of him will show up today?
How can I get even a little bit of her attention and energy when she’s so tired and depressed?
Will we have to move again because we didn’t make rent again this month?
What’s the truth? I can’t trust anything anyone in this house says. I feel crazy.
Is it safe to go to sleep tonight? Will he come back?
Am I too broken for anyone to love?
I wish you had had those normative angsts versus the ones you actually had…
It makes complete and total sense that you’re upsetting and grieving all the lost time you might have spent answering the big life questions.
Who you wanted to be when you grew up.
Where you wanted to live.
Who would have made a better life partner.
Whether or not you wanted to become a parent and by what age.
It would have been wonderful to arrive into early adulthood with insights into any of those issues.
And, of course, let’s be real now, most 20-somethings struggle to answer these questions.
But some do it with more life energy.
Less trauma to work through.
More parental support.
Self-esteem.
More sense of an umbrella of love and relational and financial and logistical security underneath them if they make a wrong choice.
Fewer mental health issues they need to attend to first before attempting to answer these questions.
But for you, it was different.
You DIDN’T have that.
You didn’t have what some of your peers did.
An easier path.
Signs You May Be Carrying Relational Trauma
Take this 5-minute, 25-question quiz to find out — and learn what to do next if you do.
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What you’re really mourning is what kind of choices and paths you would have taken if you hadn’t had to spend so much life energy simply recovering from the blur and pain of your childhood and adolescence.
It feels as if you’ve been running a race with weights strapped to your ankles, watching others move with a freedom and lightness that seems forever out of reach, doesn’t it?
And on top of that, it often feels like you started 50 yards behind their starting line, right?
What you’re upset about now is that you didn’t even have the chance to be a normally angsty and confused teenager and 20-something.
Instead, your confusion was compounded by so much unresolved trauma and the maladaptive beliefs and unhelpful behaviors that came from it.
Each belief and behavior fogging the clarity you might have had more of.
You’re upset because you didn’t know what you didn’t know.
How could you?
When the lessons of your childhood (did you even get to have a childhood?) taught you that relationships weren’t safe, to expect little, to brace for the worst, how were you supposed to make the best decisions for who you truly are at your core?
When you had no education in the fundamentals – like what healthy, functional relationships look and feel like, that interdependence is the goal, how to feel and express your feelings, how to have boundaries, how to trust your intuition, how to ask for help and receive it, how to communicate effectively, how to care for your body and forward plan for the future – when you had no education in the fundamentals, how were you supposed to build a sound house on top of a shaky foundation?
Boundaries
Boundaries are the internal clarity about what you will and won’t accept in relationships — and the willingness to act on that clarity even when it’s uncomfortable. For people with relational trauma histories, setting boundaries often activates deep fear because early relationships taught them that having needs meant risking abandonment.
How were you supposed to know that you needed to learn what functional boundaries are. So you wouldn’t be taken advantage of in relationships through your 20’s and onwards.
How could you have known that you might need to spend time alone before falling into a relationship. Just to escape the home you grew up in.
How on earth were you supposed to know that your eating disorder was a sign that something was wrong. And that therapy should have been the top goal; not getting all A’s to prove your worth.
In what Universe could you have known that what you experienced and witnessed wasn’t normal – some parents show their love in ways that feel good.
No teenager or 20-something could have known that the fear and anxiety coursing through their body isn’t motivation; it’s a reaction to their past and it’s not the best compass to make decisions from.
Honey, how could you have known?
How could you have plotted a different path when the maps you were given were (excuse my language) crap?
It is so, so incredibly sad that you lost so much time and didn’t have an honest chance to make those big, life-altering choices that would have landed you in SUCH a different reality today.
The truth is, abstract losses and grief for what might have been is a profound, complex emotion and one that I know well myself.
Grief
Grief in the context of relational trauma is not only about death — it’s about mourning the relationship, the childhood, or the version of a parent you never had. It’s the ache of realizing that the love you deserved was never available, and that healing means grieving a loss no one else can see.
It’s a mourning not just for lost time, but for lost selves, for the versions of you that never had the chance to emerge.
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The invisible patterns you can’t outwork…
Your LinkedIn profile tells one story. Your 3 AM thoughts tell another. This quiz reveals the childhood patterns keeping you running — and why enough is never enough.
The CEO version of you had you dared play a bigger game and the learned skills of networking.
The actress version of you had you not felt crippled by shame and self-loathing.
The mother in her late 20’s you would have been. Had you had the skills to pick out a functional, healthy life partner earlier in life.
The single, child-free you you would have happily been. If you hadn’t prioritized what society and others wanted over what you wanted.
The retired in her 40’s version of you that you might have been. Had someone explained ROTH IRA’s and compound interest to you.
The homeowner version of you that you might have been. Had you not spent decades underearning because of a lack of esteem.
The creative, soulful, artistic you your heart wanted to be. Had you not felt compelled to give into the performative, corporate you.
Each path not taken, each choice made under the shadow of your past, represents a divergence from the person you might have become in a different story, a story where trauma did not lay the foundation of your world.
Your attachment style is the relational blueprint your nervous system built in childhood based on how your caregivers responded to your needs. It shapes how you pursue closeness, handle conflict, and tolerate vulnerability in adult relationships — often without your conscious awareness.
And yet, here you are.
“aw-pull-quote”
Despite everything, you’re still moving, still growing.
Don’t shake your head; it’s true if you’re hearing these words.
People who don’t want to grow don’t seek out and then listen to words like these.
Honey, it’s important to acknowledge that healing is not a linear journey; it’s a spiral, where we revisit old wounds at increasing levels, each time with more wisdom, more strength.
Your healing is not measured by the roads you didn’t take but by the steps you’re taking now, however faltering, infuriating, and foreign they may feel.
It’s okay to grieve for the years spent in survival mode, for the energy that went into merely getting through each day rather than thriving.
It’s okay to feel anger, sadness, or regret for what was taken from you, for the childhood lost and the paths not taken.
AND, even as you feel that grief, lean into that sadness, I want to highlight and underscore how you kept moving forward, despite having a map, despite the cloudy lenses when your peers’ lenses might have been more clear: You. Kept. Moving. Forward.
You cobbled together a life for yourself without a safety net underneath you.
You hit some of the developmental milestones with the limited life energy you had.
And you paid your bills.
You showed up to work.
You did your best to form good relationships.
And you were a responsible, good person.
You did your best.
And now you’re juggling the stuff of your cobbled together and not strategically thought out life while still trying to do your trauma recovery work.
That is HERCULEAN.
It’s amazing all that you’re holding and doing despite having had to spend so much life energy on survival.
It’s incredible that your life is as functional as it is today. Despite where you come from and who you’re related to.
It’s freaking marvelous that you’re showing up for life and in this decade – whatever your age is. Being curious about doing the work to finally go back and repair some of the cracks in that proverbial foundation.
You are life-driven, honey.
You are hard-wired for growth.
And you took all those steps. And you’re here hearing me still being curious about how you can make your life better now.
That says a lot about you and what you want for yourself.
So yes, we do indeed have to grieve all the lost time now that you see things more clearly, now that you’re more aware of what could have been if you had started this work earlier.
We can’t skip this part.
You have to give yourself the time and the space to be mad and sad about all the roads you didn’t take, all the versions of you that you could have been.
I wish I could tell you but I don’t’ have a crystal ball.
What I can tell you is this. If we don’t support you in feeling all of your feelings about how much time “you have wasted” (your words, not mine), if we don’t make space for the complex grief about the decades spent on autopilot that could have landed you in SUCH a different place, if we don’t create the space and permission for you to feel this abstract loss and all the attendant anger and sadness, you will feel these feelings for longer.
So how do we help you feel these feelings?
Bit by bit.
As you think about how different your life is from your peers, you feel what comes up and share it with me or someone else you trust.
As you recall what your true passions and hopes were when you were little before everything got fogged over by shoulds, compulsions, and disorders, you feel your feelings about that lost time and those disowned parts of you.
And you keep feeling your feelings about the grief of lost time, grief about lives not lived, until those griefy feelings don’t feel so strong anymore.
And then, we take the information that comes up for you in your grieving to see if we need or want to make different decisions now.
Angry that you prioritized student government and becoming valedictorian over becoming a writer and artist?
Let’s try and use that information now, honey.
Deeply regretting that you unconsciously chose a romantic partner. Who is a clone of your mother and constellates your deepest childhood wounds. Let’s use that information and explore what actions – couples counseling or otherwise – you might want and need now.
Furious that you feel like you missed your window to find a healthy, functional partner and have biological children in this lifetime?
Let’s be curious together about how we can use this information to support you now.
Deeply jealous that your peers prioritized global travel in their 20’s because they had financial help. A home to go back to. And the clarity to know it would be harder with a mortgage and children. Let’s use that information now to see how we can help you make some changes.
What is always true is that we can’t go back and change the past.
What’s also true is that a lost childhood is a tragedy.
But what’s also true is that now, the adult that you are today with the different awarenesses you have now, we can help you make different choices that might blaze a path that leads somewhere else in five, ten, twenty years.
All of these things are true.
I know you’re sad and mad, honey.
But honestly, how could you have known better?
Let’s have some massive doses of compassion for the prior versions of you that were just doing your best.
And then let’s support the adult that you are today with your feelings and with this very important information that’s coming up and see what more is possible for you moving forwards.
When the weight of lost decades and paths not taken feels crushing—when you’re simultaneously grieving the artist you never became and the mother you might have been—working with a trauma-informed therapist provides essential space to process this complex, abstract loss without judgment or rushing toward “acceptance.”
A skilled therapist understands that your grief isn’t just about time but about identity, about the versions of yourself that never got to exist because survival consumed all available energy, and they’ll help you hold both the legitimate rage at what was taken and the recognition of your remarkable resilience.
This therapeutic work involves not just mourning what wasn’t but mining that grief for information: what does your anger about prioritizing achievement over creativity tell you about changes you might make now? Through this process, you begin to understand that while you can’t change the past, the adult you are today—with different awareness and support—can still make choices that honor those lost parts of yourself.
For those wrestling with whether their difficult childhood actually “counts” as traumatic enough to explain these losses, exploring whether your childhood was actually that bad can help validate the very real impacts of emotional neglect and dysfunction. The therapeutic space becomes somewhere to feel the full weight of “How could I have known better?” while building compassion for all the previous versions of you who were simply doing their best with terrible maps.
Here’s to healing relational trauma and creating thriving lives on solid foundations.
Your LinkedIn profile tells one story. Your 3 AM thoughts tell another. This quiz reveals the childhood patterns keeping you running — and why enough is never enough.
American Psychological Association. (2023). Stress in America. APA.org.
Van der Kolk, B. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score. Viking.
Maté, G. (2019). When the Body Says No. Knopf Canada.
Why do I keep replaying past mistakes and feeling like I should have known better?
It’s common to revisit past decisions, especially when you’re self-aware and striving for growth. This often stems from a desire to understand and learn, but it can become self-critical. Remember, you made the best choices you could with the information and resources you had at that moment.
I’m so hard on myself for past choices. How can I practice self-compassion when I feel so much regret?
Self-compassion begins with acknowledging your pain without judgment. Instead of dwelling on regret, try to offer yourself the same kindness and understanding you would give a dear friend. Recognize that your past self was doing her best, and that growth often comes from imperfect experiences.
What does it mean when I constantly feel guilty about things that happened years ago?
Persistent guilt about past events can indicate that you’re holding onto a narrative of blame or responsibility that might no longer serve you. Often, this guilt is a protective mechanism, but it can prevent you from fully embracing your present self. Exploring the roots of this guilt can help you release its hold.
Is it normal to feel like I’m not living up to my potential because of past decisions?
Yes, it’s very normal for driven, ambitious women to feel this way, especially when reflecting on their journey. The pressure to always optimize and succeed can make any deviation feel like a failure. However, every experience, even those you regret, contributes to who you are today and your unique path.
How can I forgive my past self for not knowing what I know now?
Forgiving your past self involves recognizing that knowledge and perspective evolve over time. Your past self operated with a different set of experiences and understanding than you possess today. Practice acknowledging her efforts and extending grace, understanding that she truly couldn’t have known better at that time.
Helping ambitious women finally feel as good as their résumé looks.
As a licensed psychotherapist, trauma-informed executive coach, and relational trauma specialist with over 15,000 clinical hours, she guides ambitious women — including Silicon Valley leaders, physicians, and entrepreneurs — in repairing the psychological foundations beneath their impressive lives. Annie is the founder and former CEO of Evergreen Counseling, a multimillion-dollar trauma-informed therapy center she built, scaled, and successfully exited. A regular contributor to Psychology Today, her expert commentary has appeared in Forbes, Business Insider, Inc., NBC, and The Information. She is currently writing her first book with W.W. Norton.
Your anger is completely valid—you're grieving not just lost years but lost versions of yourself who never got to emerge because survival took all your energy. This abstract loss for what might have been if you'd had emotional safety and clear guidance deserves to be mourned fully.
You couldn't have—when childhood taught you relationships weren't safe and you never learned healthy boundaries or emotional regulation, how could you navigate major life decisions clearly? You made the best choices possible with the foggy lenses trauma gave you.
It's never too late—while you can't reclaim lost time, the awareness you have now allows you to make different choices that can lead somewhere entirely new in five, ten, or twenty years. Your capacity for growth and healing doesn't have an expiration date.
You're mourning the normative struggles you should have had—picking colleges versus surviving dysfunction, exploring identity versus managing a parent's mental illness. Comparing yourself to those who started the race without weights on their ankles naturally brings grief for the unfair disadvantage you faced.
What's Running Your Life?
The invisible patterns you can’t outwork…
Your LinkedIn profile tells one story. Your 3 AM thoughts tell another. If vacation makes you anxious, if praise feels hollow, if you’re planning your next move before finishing the current one—you’re not alone. And you’re *not* broken.
This quiz reveals the invisible patterns from childhood that keep you running. Why enough is never enough. Why success doesn’t equal satisfaction. Why rest feels like risk.
Five minutes to understand what’s really underneath that exhausting, constant drive.
