Holy Lizard Brain!

When Trauma Hijacks Your Reactions (and Your Relationships)

Last week in The Trauma-Go-Round, I talked about how the brain is wired to protect us from danger—at all costs. I unpacked the emotional chaos that erupts when we’re faced with situations that echo past trauma. And today, we’re diving deeper into the part of the brain responsible for those instinctual, sometimes irrational reactions: the infamous lizard brain.

Also known as the basal ganglia, this is the most primitive part of your brain. It’s the one that doesn’t care about logic, context, or your therapist’s advice. It’s here to keep you alive. When trauma hits, your lizard brain goes full throttle—fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. And the wild part? It reacts before you even know what’s happening.

Lizard Brain in Action

Ever stuck your hand under a faucet and, for a split second, thought the freezing water was boiling hot? You yank your hand away before your brain catches up and realizes—nope, it’s just cold. That’s your lizard brain doing its job. It doesn’t wait for confirmation. It just reacts.

Now imagine that same instinct kicking in during a conversation with your spouse. Or when someone says a certain phrase. Or when you walk into a room that smells like your childhood home. That’s trauma. That’s your lizard brain scanning for danger in places your conscious mind wouldn’t even think to look.

My Personal Lizard Brain Meltdown

A few years ago, my husband came home from work and said, “Hi.” Just... “Hi.” Not “Hey, babe,” like he usually did. Just two letters.

And before I could blink, my lizard brain had written a full-blown horror story: He’s mad at me. He doesn’t love me anymore. He’s going to leave me, take the dogs, the house, and I’ll die alone in a studio apartment with no air conditioning and a broken heart.

That spiral? That was my trauma talking. That was my lizard brain reacting to a perceived threat—one that echoed the deep, buried belief that I was disposable.

Connecting the Dots

Through years of therapy, I started to understand that most of my triggers stemmed from being sexually abused by my father. The person who was supposed to protect me, love me, and keep me safe—did the opposite. And that betrayal taught my nervous system that love equals danger.

So when my husband said “Hi” instead of “Hey, babe,” my body remembered what it felt like to be discarded. My lizard brain didn’t care about context. It cared about survival.

Healing Is Not Cute

Doing the hard work to heal trauma is exhausting. It’s not cute. It’s not linear. It’s not something you can wrap up in a weekend retreat and call it closure.

But it’s worth it.

Healing requires time, patience, and a whole lot of self-compassion. It means naming your triggers, feeling your feelings, and building a support system that doesn’t gaslight you. It means mourning the past—especially the parts that were never supposed to happen.

It means learning to trust again. Yourself. Your body. Maybe, eventually, other people.

One Healing Step at a Time

When I look back on my journey, I’m proud. Not because I did it perfectly—but because I did it at all. I faced the trauma. I stayed in the room with my pain. I learned how to love myself again.

If you’re struggling with trauma triggers, please hear me: You are not broken. You are not alone. You are not too much.

With vulnerability and support, you can heal. Life doesn’t have to be defined by trauma. It can be filled with joy, connection, and moments that feel like peace.

So take the time. Reach out. Start the work. You are worth every ounce of it.

From my messy heart to yours,