The body keeps the score, the body always remembers.
Chronic pain has been one of my greatest teachers. Not because I wanted the lessons. But because it refused to allow me to skip class.
I grew up hearing the terms fight or flight. It was always in the context of trauma. I learned about freeze and fawn in more recent years.
IF you are unfamiliar with these states. Blow this up ☝🏼 and take a glance, get a feel for how these patterns operate for the general public.
I was surprised to learn that these patterns are all operating in my life. Likely due to my chronic pain.
The body that keeps moving isn’t driven- it’s bracing. A survival pattern disguised as productivity. A nervous system trying to stay one step ahead of collapse.
I didn’t realize that chronic pain could push my nervous system into these same states. And keep me there for long stretches of time.
Our bodies are wired to protect us from danger. But what happens when the danger isn’t the tiger in the bushes… but a pain flare that never truly ends?
Pain is supposed to be the warning that something is wrong. Literally life threatening. But with chronic pain every movement. Every situation. Every experience. Gets imprinted incorrectly. And experienced in the mind as life threatening. We’re not supposed to be exposed to this type of danger all the time. When the alarm bells keep ringing. How does one keep from going berserk?
Your Body’s Ancient Alarm System
The body has 7 trillion nerves and some people manage to get on every last one of them.
When the nervous system senses threat- whether physical, emotional, or imagined- it flips into protection mode.
- Fight- “I have to push through this pain, no matter what.” “I feel irritated by everything.”
- Flight- “I have to escape this situation (or this body).” “Nobody understands, I should just leave.”
- Freeze- “I can’t do anything, so I’ll shut down.” “I can’t handle anymore right now.”
- Fawn- “If I just keep everyone happy, I’ll be safe.” “I wish I could go home to rest, but I need to stay so they don’t feel bad.”
With chronic pain, these responses aren’t always dramatic. They can be quiet, creeping patterns that take root in daily life.
Once triggered, we find any input is too much. Noise. Lights. Crowds. Smells. Chaos. Multiple things competing for our attention. This sensory overload can start to make us feel panicky, confused, and overwhelmed.
I suggest this is because we live at the height of what we can handle. Just with our pain. Adding anything easily takes us to a breaking point.
How Fight Shows Up in Chronic Pain
She thought strength
was measured in miles run,
lists checked,
burdens carried alone.
Then she learned
that strength can also be
in saying "enough."
For me, “fight” often looks like overdoing it. I grit my teeth, force my way through the task, and pretend the pain isn’t there. I know I’m past my limit when I start getting on my own nerves.
She was fierce, but her body was tired. She was determined, but her cells were weary. And yet, she still rose.
-Unknown
Flight: The Urge to Escape
She packed her bags
for the hundredth time,
not always with clothes-
sometimes just with dreams.
But the horizon
was only another room
she carried inside.
Sometimes the pain feels unbearable, and all I want is to run- from conversations, commitments, or even my own thoughts. With chronic pain, “flight” doesn’t always mean sprinting down the road. It can mean numbing with endless scrolling, binge-watching, or mentally checking out.
Some journeys take us far from home. Some adventures lead us to our soul.
-C.S. Lewis
Freeze: Stuck in Place
When pain is constant, your nervous system never gets the memo that the war is over.
Freeze is tricky. It feels like exhaustion, procrastination, or brain fog. It is not laziness- it’s biology. The nervous system has decided the safest thing to do is… nothing.
Chronic pain can hold the body hostage, and freeze mode locks the mind in the same room.
Fawn: People Pleasing for Safety
If you avoid conflict to keep the peace, you start a war inside yourself.
This one surprised me the most. And yet, it makes so much sense. Fawn shows up when I ignore my own limits to keep others happy. Agreeing to help when I’m in pain, smiling through a flare so no one feels uncomfortable. It can keep us “safe” socially, but it costs us our healing.
Why This Matters for Chronic Pain
When our bodies stay in constant fight- flight- freeze- fawn cycles, our pain often increases. Muscles stay tense. Sleep gets disrupted. Digestion slows. The immune system struggles.
She said "yes
so no one else
would have to feel
her "no."
But the body keeps
its own calendar,
and it circled today
for the breaking point.
-Misty Bernall
Recognizing the pattern is the first step toward calming it.
Seatherny
(noun) the serenity one feels when listening to the chirping of birds
Calming the Nervous System
Here’s some ways I’ve found helpful to calm an overactive nervous system.
- Slow breathing- inhale for 4, hold for 4, exhale for 6
- Gentle self talk- “My body is doing its best to keep me safe.”
- Micro- rests- lying down for 5 minutes before I truly need to
- Safe connection- calling someone who understands without judgment
- Crying- releases pent up emotions
- Chug water- a natural way to detox physically
- Run hands under cold water- to trick the brain into distraction
- Nature time, a brisk walk- or take some time for forest therapy
May the tide wash away your fear
May the salt air clear your thoughts
May you feel the pull of the moon
reminding you to rise and rest in turn
May your heart find its steady beat,
and your body remember-
you are safe to float now
-Lucille Clifton
Mending While the Alarm Still Rings
The nervous system can be rewired, but it’s a slow mending- like stitching a beloved quilt by hand. Each breath, each choice to rest, each moment of kindness toward ourselves is a new thread.
May the trees stand guard over your rest
May the wind carry away your pain
May the earth hold you steady
and the roots remind you-
you belong here
May the path ahead be soft underfoot
and the light always find your face
I am learning not to be mad at my nervous system. It’s trying to protect me the best way it knows. I can thank it for its service… and then gently let it know I am safe now.
A Blessing for Your Journey
May your heart rate slow
May your shoulders drop
May your jaw unclench
May the river of your breath
remind you of the ocean's rhythm
May you remember-
you are safe, you are whole, you are here
Chronic pain is impressive, but so are you. In the best way. Solid. Grounded. A force to be reckoned with.
SUNBEAM ACRES 
Reading this blog brings peace to my soul. Thank you Pam.
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