Trauma Changes More Than Memories
Updated: 1 day ago
Author of the Month
September 14, 2026
Tammy Adler Foeller, Author, Founder & Executive Director, OpenDoor Women's Recovery Alliance
Tom O'Connor, Publisher
After writing about my own experience with intergenerational trauma, several people reached out with a similar question.
"If I know what happened, why can't I simply move on?"
It's a fair question. I wanted to believe healing would come once I understood my past intellectually. I assumed that if I could explain it, I could leave it behind. But trauma doesn't just affect our memories. It affects our nervous system. In fact, trauma can actually change how our brains function.
Trauma is not simply something we remember. It is something our bodies experience. Long after an event has passed, our brains can continue responding as though the danger is still present.
One of the most affected areas is a small, almond-shaped structure deep within the brain called the amygdala. Think of it as the brain's alarm system. Every second of every day, it scans our environment and asks one simple question: Am I safe?
When danger is real, the amygdala responds instantly. It releases stress hormones like adrenaline and cortisol, increases our heart rate, sharpens our senses, and prepares us to fight, flee, freeze, or seek safety. In that moment, survival becomes far more important than careful thinking.
This remarkable response has helped humans survive for thousands of years. But trauma changes the brain's definition of danger. When someone experiences repeated trauma, abuse, neglect, violence, addiction, exploitation, or chronic instability, the amygdala learns that the world is unpredictable. Instead of responding only to actual threats, it begins reacting to anything that resembles past danger.
A raised voice.
A slammed door.
Someone who doesn't answer a text.
Conflict. Silence. An unexpected change in plans. The body responds as though the original danger has returned.
Imagine living with a smoke detector that goes off every time you make toast. The alarm is real, but there isn't a fire. That's what many people with significant trauma experience every day. Their brains aren't trying to make life difficult; they're trying to keep them alive.
At the very same time, another area of the brain becomes less accessible. The prefrontal cortex, located just behind the forehead, handles reasoning, planning, emotion regulation, problem-solving, and weighing consequences. But when the amygdala sounds the alarm, the prefrontal cortex becomes much harder to access. The brain shifts its resources toward survival rather than thoughtful decision-making.
When Survival Takes Over, Logic Takes A Back Seat.
This has given me reason to pause and consider why someone might lash out, shut down, relapse, isolate, or make choices they later regret. Their brain isn't asking, "What's the best decision?" It's asking, "How do I survive?"
This doesn't excuse harmful behavior, but it does change how we respond. Instead of asking, "What's wrong with you?" we begin asking, "What happened to you?"
Dr. Bruce Perry's work builds on this understanding of how the brain responds to trauma. One concept from his research has become especially meaningful to me: Regulate. Relate. Reason.
In our culture, we often expect people to reason first. We ask, "Why did you make that decision?" or "Why don't you just make a better choice?" But healing doesn't happen in that order. Before someone can think clearly, solve problems, or make healthy decisions, their nervous system must first experience safety. Dr. Perry describes this progression simply: first, we regulate; then, we relate; and only then can we reason.
That sequence shapes how we approach every woman who walks through OpenDoor's doors. The majority of the women we serve have spent years living in survival mode. Their brains have adapted to addiction, abuse, exploitation, incarceration, homelessness, or repeated loss. Their amygdala has learned to expect danger because, for much of their lives, danger wasn't imagined-it was real.
This is why our volunteers are never trained to fix people. They are trained to be present. To listen before speaking. To remain curious instead of judgmental. To offer consistency instead of quick answers. We know that advice alone rarely calms a traumatized nervous system. Safe, trustworthy relationships do.
When Trauma Healing Happens
Healing doesn't happen because someone finally has all the answers. It happens because someone finally has people willing to walk alongside them. We focus on compassion rather than judgment, curiosity rather than criticism, and consistency rather than quick solutions because healing begins with helping the nervous system feel safe. Every promise kept, every Tuesday evening spent around a table, every conversation free of shame helps quiet the brain's alarm system. Those moments communicate something far more powerful than advice:
You are safe here.
You belong here.
You do not have to do this alone.
Pause for a moment and consider what that means. We often expect the exact opposite. We tell people to make better choices, think more clearly, or simply try harder. But if the brain is still convinced it isn't safe, reasoning isn't available. Before people can change their behavior, they need experiences that convince their nervous systems that the danger has passed.
Only then can trust begin to grow.
Only then can relationships begin to heal what trauma has damaged.
And only then can women begin making decisions from a place of hope instead of survival.
At OpenDoor, we witness this process every day. Healing rarely happens in one dramatic breakthrough. More often, it unfolds through hundreds of ordinary moments: a volunteer who faithfully shows up week after week, a participant who is met with grace after a setback rather than condemnation, a circle of trusted companions who celebrate progress rather than perfection.
These moments may seem small, but neuroscience tells us they are anything but. Each safe, consistent relationship helps the brain learn something new: not every person will abandon me, not every mistake will be met with rejection, and I don't have to face life alone.
Perhaps that is why Dr. Bruce Perry wrote, "There is no more effective neurobiological intervention than a safe relationship." At OpenDoor, we have the privilege of watching that truth come to life every day.
When we stop asking, "What's wrong with you?" and begin asking, "What happened to you?" We create space for compassion. And compassion, expressed through safe, consistent relationships, may be one of the most powerful forces for healing we possess.
Healing doesn't happen because we forget what happened to us. It happens because our brains slowly learn that today is different from yesterday.
When we stop asking, "What's wrong with you?" and begin asking, "What happened to you?" We create space for compassion. And compassion, expressed through safe, consistent relationships, may be one of the most powerful forces for healing we possess.
Read Tammy's bio by clicking her icon at the start of this article.
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