Safety in Stillness | Learning to Rest Without Fear
Rest sounds simple, doesn’t it? Yet for many trauma survivors, it’s one of the hardest things to do.
Stillness, while peaceful for some, can feel terrifying for others. It’s not because you don’t want rest, it’s because your body doesn’t yet trust it. When you’ve lived in survival mode for years, your nervous system learns that safety is found in control, in movement, in doing. So when you stop, the body panics.
This isn’t a character flaw. It’s a nervous system memory.
Healing doesn’t begin when you force rest, it begins when you teach your body that rest can be safe.
Why Stillness Feels Uncomfortable
Our culture glorifies productivity and constant motion, but for those with trauma or chronic stress, stillness can feel deeply unsafe.
That unease you feel when you sit quietly or slow down? It’s your body doing its best to protect you. Here’s why:
Your nervous system remembers. If you’ve experienced chaos or danger, your body might associate calm with vulnerability.
Stillness invites emotion. When you finally slow down, suppressed feelings have room to rise.
The body hasn’t learned safety. Without repeated experiences of calm that don’t lead to pain, the nervous system keeps its guard up.
So if rest feels impossible, it’s not resistance, it’s self-protection.
The Physiology of Rest and Safety
The parasympathetic nervous system (the “rest and digest” state) helps the body relax, recover, and repair. But trauma can keep the sympathetic system (the “fight or flight” response) switched on, even when danger is long gone.
To heal, you must help your body re-learn the language of safety.
This process is called somatic regulation. It doesn’t happen in your mind. It happens through the body, in small, consistent signals of care.
How to Begin Teaching Your Body That Rest Is Safe
You don’t need to force stillness. You can build it gently, layer by layer.
Start small. Try 60 seconds of intentional stillness, a moment of quiet breathing before bed or a pause between tasks.
Pair stillness with comfort. Use soft textures, gentle music, or grounding scents. These cues reassure your nervous system that calm isn’t danger, it’s safety.
Offer grounding touch. Rest your hand on your chest or belly and breathe deeply. Feel the rise and fall which is proof that you’re here, alive, and safe.
Move when needed. Rest doesn’t mean total stillness. Sometimes, swaying, stretching, or mindful walking can soothe your system while still giving it rest.
Each time you pause without something bad happening, your body collects evidence: stillness can be safe.
Rest as Reconnection, Not Reward
Rest isn’t something you have to earn. It’s something you deserve simply because you exist.
When you stop seeing rest as a privilege and start seeing it as a practice of safety, you shift from survival to healing. You begin to reconnect to your breath, your body, your emotions, and your life.
Rest isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s the ultimate declaration of trust: I no longer have to fight to be safe.
Journal Prompt
What sensations or thoughts arise when I try to rest? What helps my body feel safe enough to slow down?
Affirmation
Rest is not danger.
Stillness is my new safety.
My body can finally exhale.
Conclusion
If stillness feels uncomfortable, you’re not broken, you’re healing.
Every breath, every pause, every moment of gentle stillness is a new message to your body: You made it. You’re safe now.
You don’t have to earn your peace. You simply have to let yourself receive it.
Written by Marcia Blane, LPC, NCC, C.Ht.
Licensed Mental Health Counselor | Trauma-Informed Life Coach | Clinical Hypnotherapist
www.marciablane.com
