There are many characteristics about ourselves that we just accept as “who we are.” We don’t question them, challenge them, or even acknowledge them because they’ve become such normal parts of us. Maybe you’ve always been an overthinker. Maybe you’ve always expected the worst. Or maybe you’ve always needed control. You may think these are personality traits that you are born with because you cannot remember a time where they didn’t exist.
That’s exactly how I viewed myself.
Once I began to heal from my trauma, I realized I opened up a can of worms. These traits that were “just me” were actually adaptations from my childhood to help me survive my trauma. Rather than personality traits, they were survival responses that were impossible to identify at the time.
Today, I realize I wasn’t born this way. I became this person because she is who I needed to be to survive my trauma.
A gentle reminder: This post reflects my personal experience living in survival mode after childhood trauma. Everyone’s experience is different, and this isn’t intended to diagnose or replace professional mental health support. My hope is simply that sharing my story helps someone feel a little less alone.
In this post, I reflect on:
- I Thought This Was Just My Personality
- I Didn’t Realize I Was Living in Survival Mode
- What Survival Mode Looked Like for Me
- I Didn’t Know How Much It Was Costing Me
- Healing Meant Learning That I Was Finally Safe
I Thought This Was Just My Personality
If someone were to ask me to describe myself by how I feel internally, I would say:
- I’m someone who overthinks every word, action, or inaction to make sure I don’t offend anyone or misunderstand what someone truly means
- I’m very hyperaware of my surroundings at all times
- When I have to make a decision, I come up with multiple backup plans
- I get anxious by the unknown and absolutely hate change
My entire life, I thought these were simply personality traits I was born with. I even took pride in what they brought to my life. I never questioned them because they were normal to me. What I didn’t realize was that they were survival adaptations that developed over time.
While these traits served me at one point in my life, and in many ways I’m grateful for them, I’ve come to understand that they’re not “just who I am,” nor are they who I want to be. They’re survival responses that I no longer need in the same way.
I Didn’t Realize I Was Living in Survival Mode
I’d heard the term ‘survival mode’ before, but it never crossed my mind that it applied to me. I was simply living my normal day-to-day life. I wasn’t actively ‘surviving’ anything.
However, once I began my healing journey and started looking more closely at these “personality” traits, I began to understand what survival mode actually meant. Once I allowed myself to consider that these patterns and behaviours might actually be adaptations from my past traumatic experiences, everything started to click.
For me, survival mode was when my mind and body stayed in a constant state of high alert, reacting as though danger was always around, even when I was safe. When your body feels unsafe, it’s natural for it to be on high alert and to act accordingly. For example, if you’re walking alone through an empty parking lot late at night, it’s natural for your body to expect danger, be hyperaware, and to think through worst case scenarios to keep you prepared. It’s your body’s way of protecting you during moments of real danger. Once you’re safely in your car, your nervous system realizes the threat has passed, and your body gradually settles again.
For me, that moment never came. My body never got the message that danger had passed, so high alert became my normal, natural state. Because it constantly perceived danger, it protected me by making me hypervigilant, an overthinker, controlling, and someone who expected the worst. After living this way for years, it was only natural to believe these were “just a part of my personality.”
Questioning my norm, and wondering whether these characteristics had developed for another reason, felt both scary and enlightening. Once I made that connection, it felt like two puzzle pieces finally fitting together. Everything made sense.
Survival mode doesn’t always look and feel dramatic. Many people can function well on the outside while carrying constant tension internally. I explore this further in my post You Didn’t “Turn Out Fine.” Hidden Trauma in High Functioning Adults.
What Survival Mode Looked Like for Me
During the thick of my depression, I woke up every morning just wanting the day to be over. I lived life at a surface level, just completing things to “check off a box,” and using it as a distraction to avoid my past. I had no idea there were so many other, much quieter ways that survival mode had creeped into my life.
Hypervigilance and Overthinking
I’m hyperaware. Whether I’m alone or with other people, especially children, my brain is constantly scanning for potential danger.
Even when I find something I enjoy, like taking a walk with my child, my mind eventually convinces me it’s something I should fear. “What if a dog bites them? What if someone takes them? No one else is walking through the neighbourhood. Anything could happen, and no one would know.” I overthought the situation so much that I stopped doing something I loved. Instead, I waited until my husband came home so we could go together.
I also search for hidden meanings in people’s words, actions, and even text messages. I obsess over the smallest interactions and replay conversations in my head, questioning whether I missed something or interpreted it the wrong way.
Irritability
I’m constantly irritated and on edge. I’m always ready to react to minor issues, especially when they involve the people I’m closest to, like my parents.
I find myself so snippy with them at times, that something as small as “You should water the grass today” really sets me off. Even though it’s such a small normal statement, my body views it as danger. To me, it’s not about watering the grass. It’s about someone trying to control me. My brain automatically connects it like this:
- As a child, I didn’t have control over what happened to me
- No control meant danger
- Someone telling me what to do still feels like they’re taking control away
Because of my past and my need to maintain control, I find myself becoming increasingly irritated whenever things feel outside of it. Over time, I’ve developed a fight response where my first instinct is to push back or do the exact opposite of what’s being asked of me, even when the request is completely reasonable. I explore the four trauma responses in detail in my post Common Trauma Responses: Fight, Flight, Freeze, and Fawn Explained.
Preparing for Worst-Case Scenarios
One trait I used to pride myself on was my ability to think through multiple potential scenarios and have a plan for each one. At the same time, I constantly expected something bad to happen. My thinking was simple: if I imagined the absolute worst-case scenario, then whatever actually happened couldn’t possibly be worse.
I hate change, and I hate feeling unprepared. So if I could think through every possible worst-case scenario ahead of time, I’d know exactly how to respond and nothing could catch me off guard. Looking back, though, I can only think of one time in my 30+ years of life where preparing for the worst-case actually benefited me.
Preparing for the worst is my body’s way of creating a false sense of safety. If my worst-case scenario happens, I’ll know exactly what to do. If it doesn’t happen, that’s even better. And if something bad still happens, well, it’s still not as bad as worst-case scenario, so it’s a win.
Struggling to Recognize My Own Needs
For a long time, I didn’t realize I had needs beyond the basics. Yes, I needed food, shelter, education, but I never realized I could also have my own wants, interests, and dreams outside of my family’s interests.
If someone had asked me even a year ago what my hobbies were or what I liked doing, I wouldn’t have been able to answer. Whenever someone asked what I liked doing outside of work, I’d make something up, like going to the gym or playing sports, because I felt embarrassed that I didn’t have an answer. The truth is, I hate going to the gym, and I’ve never played a sport in my life. I didn’t really know who I was outside of school, work, and my abuse. In fact, it felt like my abuse had become my identity. I never gave myself the time or space to figure out what I enjoyed because I didn’t realize I was allowed to have needs and wants of my own.
Through my healing journey, I’ve slowly started learning what gives me purpose and excitement. If you ask me today what I enjoy, my answer would be writing. I love creating. I might not be the best at it, but it makes me feel fulfilled. It gives me purpose, and it’s one of the few things that makes me completely lose track of time.
I Didn’t Know How Much It Was Costing Me
I didn’t realize how much living in survival mode was affecting every part of my life. Because my brain is constantly on high alert, it never has a chance to truly rest. It often feels like it’s been working non-stop for 20+ years. No wonder I get anxious and overwhelmed by even the smallest things.
Over time, I’ve learned that there’s a time and place for everything, and not every situation deserves a quick or snappy reaction. For me, the best thing I can do when I feel triggered is pause, take deep breaths, ground myself, and revisit the situation later if I still feel the same way. I share the five techniques that I rely on most in 5 Grounding Techniques That Help Me During Anxiety.
The greatest impact has been that I never truly feel safe. Once my body realizes one potential danger is gone, it actively searches for other “dangers.” It’s constantly trying to protect me, even from things that are actually safe. Because I’m always expecting the worst, I naturally look for the negative and struggle to fully enjoy peaceful moments or celebrate personal accomplishments.
I spent so long believing that these “personality traits” were positive characteristics, and at one point, they truly were. They helped me survive my trauma. But now that I’m on the other side of it, I realize these same traits are hurting both me and the people I love. Over the last few years, I’ve been intentionally working to change these thought patterns, and I’m already beginning to see how beautiful life can be when you move out of survival mode and just start living.
Healing Meant Learning That I Was Finally Safe
Today, I know that I am safe. I know I have a strong support system, and more than that, I’ve learned to trust myself to keep me safe. The only things I can control are my actions, my thoughts, my behaviours, and how I respond. Me, me, me.
Actually applying this during stressful or triggering situations still feels nearly impossible, and that’s okay! Just understanding that I’m safe and becoming aware of the patterns I need to work on was the first, and hardest, step.
If I’m being honest, this is something that I’m actively working towards today. I still struggle with severe hypervigilance, overthinking, and assuming worst case scenarios. I’m still someone who plans for everything. When unexpected things happen, I catch myself replaying what I should have done differently and blaming myself for not knowing better. Those are the moments when survival mode quietly finds its way back.
At the same time, there are now many moments where I catch myself slipping back into survival mode, and I stop to ask myself, “Why am I getting irritated right now?” or “Is this really worth overthinking?” The fact that I can catch myself in those moments is how I know I’m healing.
Healing isn’t about becoming a new version of myself. It’s about teaching my body that I’m no longer in danger. It’s about recognizing my automatic survival responses, using them when they serve me, and letting them go when they don’t. Progress is happening slowly, but progress is still progress.
If someone had asked me years ago whether I was living in survival mode, I would have confidently said no. Looking back, I realize my mind and body were doing exactly what they needed to do at the time to help me survive. While I’m grateful for what they did for me, I realize I don’t have to carry these survival responses with me forever. I have the freedom to become the person I want to be.
