What if your brain wasn’t betraying you, but trying to protect you, even through pain?
- Sema Dourmoush
- 1 day ago
- 4 min read
“Trauma” is a word we hear all the time now — in podcasts, therapy TikTok, or casual conversations. People say things like “We’ve all got trauma” and nod, almost accepting it as part of who they are. And while that’s a step forward, I think we stop short. Because naming your trauma is not the same as understanding it.
But what exactly is trauma?
Trauma is any experience that overwhelms our ability to cope. It leaves an imprint — not just emotionally, but physically and neurologically. For some, the nervous system gradually returns to a state of balance. For others, the impact lingers, reshaping how we think, feel, and respond to the world.
Sometimes, this disruption develops into Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), a clinical condition that can include symptoms like flashbacks, avoidance, hypervigilance, and shifts in mood or thinking. PTSD and trauma are deeply connected, but not the same. However, both matter and deserve to be met with curiosity and care.
This is something I’ve come to realise through experience and study. When I experienced trauma, I felt stuck — the kind of stuck that stretches time and makes everything feel heavy. But instead of pushing that feeling down, I got curious. I started searching for answers. And it just so happened that I’d begun my Master’s in Neuroscience at the same time. I knew the science wouldn’t heal me, but instead might help me understand what was happening in my mind.
And with understanding came something unexpected: empathy. Not just for others, but for myself; for my brain. And that changed everything.
The brain isn't broken; it is adapting
In complexity science, the brain isn’t viewed as a machine with separate parts, but as a self-organising system, constantly adapting to our internal and external worlds. This also means it can adapt, rewire, and regulate itself without a single control centre.
Even under extreme stress, the brain doesn’t shut down; it reconfigures and reroutes. After trauma, this adaptability becomes especially clear, though not always in ways that feel helpful. Like a city after an earthquake, the brain reshapes itself in response to new conditions. Sometimes that means forming patterns of fear or hyperarousal — not because we’re broken, but because the brain is trying to protect us from future harm.
That reframed how I looked at trauma. It’s not about weakness. It’s about adaptation.
The brains storyteller
A part of the brain that stood out to me is the posterior cingulate cortex (PCC). It acts like an internal narrator, helping to weave external experiences into a sense of self. It’s also part of a larger brain network that activates when we daydream, reflect, or remember the past.
A recent study found that the PCC processes traumatic memories differently from ordinary sad ones. In people with more severe PTSD symptoms, the PCC was more active when they reflected on traumatic events, especially when those memories felt deeply connected to their identity. This was a powerful insight.
In PTSD, the brain's ability to self-organise is disrupted by an anxiety-inducing event. In particular, the region of the brain responsible for encoding memories is unable to do so effectively. Instead of the traumatic experience being organised into a structured narrative, it is stored in fragmented forms, raw emotions, sensory details, and disjointed images without a clear timestamp.
When these fragmented memories are triggered, the brain reactivates the same intense emotional response as during the original event. Because the memory hasn’t been fully processed, it remains stuck — not just in time, but in us.
But here’s what I found profound: this study didn’t just show heightened brain activity — it revealed intent. The PCC may be trying to integrate that trauma into the broader narrative of who we are.
And that brings me back to something I’ve been sitting with: Saying you have trauma isn’t the same as understanding it.
There’s a difference between having gone through trauma and truly understanding how it’s living in you now. And that understanding, even just knowing what your brain might be trying to do, can create space. Enough space to observe rather than identify.
The brain is trying to help, trying to narrate, but without the tools of understanding, it loops. It embeds the memory into identity, not because it belongs there, but because it hasn’t been given anywhere else to go.
Curiosity over judgement: a shift in perspective
When we understand the brain as a self-organising, adaptive system, it becomes easier to respond with curiosity instead of judgment. Instead of asking, What’s wrong with me? We can ask, What is my brain trying to do right now? What is it protecting me from?
That shift from judgment to observation is part of something called metacognition: the ability to reflect on your thoughts. It’s a powerful tool in healing because it creates space between your experience and your identity. And in that space, healing begins.
A different kind of gratitude
I turned to practices like yoga and meditation — not just for peace of mind, but because I’d learned how they can support the brain’s ability to rewire itself. They’ve been shown to increase levels of BDNF (a molecule that promotes brain plasticity, which is the brain’s ability to make adaptive changes) and calm the nervous system.
Over time, I noticed subtle shifts — not only in how I felt, but in how I related to myself. I began to move through the world not just with understanding, but with something deeper:
Gratitude — for my brain, for my body, for continuing to show up.
Love — not for who I thought I had to be, but for who I was becoming.
You are not your trauma
Most of us will experience trauma in some form. It’s a part of life. But when we understand that the brain isn’t betraying us, it’s trying to protect us, we can begin to meet ourselves with compassion instead of criticism.
Your trauma may shape your path.
But it doesn’t define who you are.
And your brain, even in the hardest moments, is on your side.
