Trauma, Healing, and the NARM Approach

What is trauma?

When people hear the word trauma, they often think of obvious, catastrophic events: a violent assault, a serious car crash, a natural disaster. These experiences certainly count as trauma, but the picture is much bigger—and often more personal.

Trauma is really about what happens inside us when something overwhelms our ability to cope. Any situation that leaves you feeling deeply threatened, unsafe, or powerless in a lasting way can be traumatic. It can shake your sense of well-being, disrupt how you function day to day, and affect you physically, emotionally, socially, even spiritually (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA), 2012).

Some trauma is easy to name and widely acknowledged: surviving war, enduring violence, losing someone suddenly. Other experiences are quieter but can have just as deep an impact. Gabor Maté talks about “big-T” and “small-t” trauma. Big-T trauma refers to the more obvious, overwhelming events—those moments that can cause an immediate shock to your mind and body, like a serious accident or a traumatic loss. Small-t trauma includes the many hurtful experiences that might seem ordinary but still wound us: chronic criticism, emotional neglect, bullying. These are often universal, woven into the fabric of daily life, and easy to overlook (Maté & Maté, 2022).

Trauma can come from a single shocking event, or from long-term adversity like living in poverty or facing ongoing violence. It can even be passed down through generations when families or communities have experienced things like war, displacement, or domestic violence. Some trauma is well-recognised by society, while other forms remain hidden or unacknowledged—what some call “disenfranchised trauma.” For example, going through a severe episode of psychosis might not get the same support or understanding as surviving a natural disaster, even though both can be deeply frightening and destabilising.

At its heart, trauma is anything that leaves us feeling unsafe in the world, unable to trust, or cut off from ourselves and others. And because it’s so personal, there’s no single, universal measure of what “counts.” If something continues to hurt, weigh you down, or shape your reactions long after the threat is gone, that’s worth paying attention to.

How do I know if I suffer from trauma?

If any of this resonates with you, you might be wondering, “But how would I even know if I’m carrying trauma?”

Trauma often doesn’t announce itself clearly. It can show up as lasting changes in how we feel, think, and move through life (SAMHSA, 2012). It can show up as unease, disconnection, or a sense of being constantly on alert.

You might notice patterns like harsh self-criticism, feeling anxious or low much of the time, withdrawing from people, or finding it hard to enjoy things you used to. Sleep and appetite changes, unexplained aches or pains, or a sense of being “numb” or detached can also be signs that your body and mind are carrying more than they can comfortably hold.

Sometimes, people develop ways to cope that offer short-term relief but can cause harm over time. This might include heavy substance use, binge drinking, or engaging compulsively in chemsex. It’s important to say this kindly and without judgment: these choices often come from a very human need to soothe pain, connect with others, or feel some measure of control or escape. They can be clues—signals that someone is trying to manage distress that feels too big to face alone (Heller & Kammer, 2022).

It’s also worth acknowledging that some experiences of trauma remain largely unspoken in society. Discrimination based on sexual orientation or gender identity, for example, can be a persistent, institutionalised form of trauma (Meyer, 2003). In contexts where these experiences are minimised or denied, it can be even harder to recognise them as valid sources of pain.

If you recognise yourself in any of this, it doesn’t mean you’re “broken” or beyond help. It means you’ve survived as best you could. And it might mean you’re ready to consider other ways of caring for yourself, with support that feels safe and affirming.

What is NARM and how can it help me?

If recognising trauma means acknowledging how it shapes our sense of safety, trust, and even who we believe we are, the natural next question is: What can help?

This is where the NeuroAffective Relational Model (NARM) comes in. NARM was developed specifically to help people who carry complex or developmental trauma: not only the single big events in life but those long-term patterns that come from growing up without enough safety, care, or understanding (Heller & Kammer, 2022).

Many of us learn early on to adapt in order to survive: shutting down emotions, withdrawing from relationships, harshly criticising ourselves, pushing people away. These strategies can become so ingrained they feel like part of who we are—even when they cause pain.

NARM offers a different path. Instead of digging endlessly into old stories or blaming the past, it invites you to gently notice how these survival patterns are still playing out in your life right now. The focus is less on what happened and more on how you learned to protect yourself—and how those protections might be limiting you today.

It does this through a few key ideas:

• Connection and disconnection. Trauma often disrupts our natural ability to feel connected to ourselves and others. NARM helps rebuild that sense of safe connection without overwhelming you.

• Agency. Instead of feeling stuck or helpless, NARM supports you in recognising your own choices—even in small ways. This isn’t about blaming yourself for what happened, but about discovering new possibilities for responding to life now.

• Curiosity over judgment. It encourages gentle, nonjudgmental curiosity about your patterns.

• Integration. NARM helps bring together thoughts, emotions, physical sensations, and behaviours that might feel fragmented or disconnected because of trauma.

At its heart, NARM is relational. That means the therapy process itself is built on trust, safety, and collaboration. You’re not being “fixed” by someone else. Instead, you’re invited to become more aware of your own experience—and to find new ways of relating to yourself and the world.

This can be especially meaningful if you’ve experienced forms of trauma that often go unrecognised or invalidated. In contexts where your pain may have been dismissed or hidden, NARM offers a way to honour your story without pathologising it, and to support healing that feels respectful and affirming.

In short, if trauma is about disconnection—feeling unsafe, unseen, or unworthy—NARM is about reconnecting: to your emotions, your body, your needs, and to others in your life. It’s about creating space for more life-affirming ways of being in the present.

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If any of this speaks to you, and you’re curious about exploring this work together, I invite you to get in touch. Let’s talk about how therapy can support you in finding greater safety, connection, and freedom in your own life.

References

Heller, L., & Kammer, B. J. (2022). The Practical Guide for Healing Developmental Trauma: Using the NeuroAffective Relational Model to Address Adverse Childhood Experiences and Resolve Complex Trauma. North Atlantic Books.

Maté, G., & Maté, D. (2022). The Myth of Normal: Trauma, Illness and Healing in a Toxic Culture. Penguin.

Meyer, I. H. (2003). Prejudice, social stress, and mental health in lesbian, gay, and bisexual populations: Conceptual issues and research evidence. Psychological Bulletin, 129(5), 674–697.

Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA). (2012). SAMHSA’s Working Definition of Trauma and Principles and Guidance for a Trauma-Informed Approach. Rockville, MD: U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.