Hi SGC,
Last Friday we talked about intrusive memories and flashbacks, the moments that pull you back into a day you didn't choose to revisit. This week, we're exploring another common feeling in trauma- the sense of always being braced.
It can feel like you are constantly waiting for the next bad thing or never quite able to relax, even when nothing is wrong.
That's hyper vigilance, and if it's been part of your daily life since your sibling died, you're far from alone in this community.
Why this happens to you
Hypervigilance is your nervous system's way of trying to make sure nothing like this ever catches you off guard again. Once your body has learned that devastating news can arrive out of nowhere, on an ordinary day, in the middle of an ordinary phone call, it stops trusting ordinary moments. It starts scanning constantly for anything that might be a warning sign, because some part of you is desperately trying to prevent the unpreventable from happening again.
This is why you might notice yourself flinching at unexpected phone calls, feeling your heart race when a loved one doesn't answer right away, or struggling to fully relax even in safe, ordinary moments. It can look like difficulty concentrating, a short fuse, or exhaustion that doesn't make sense given how little you've physically done in a day. Staying alert takes an enormous amount of energy, even when the alertness is happening below your conscious awareness.
You didn't choose this either
Just like intrusive memories, hypervigilance isn't something you're doing on purpose, and it isn't something you can simply decide to stop. Your nervous system adapted after you learned that horrific things can happen without warning, and now it's trying to keep that from ever happening again. Telling yourself to "just relax" doesn't work here any more than it works with a flashback, because this isn't a mindset problem. Your nervous system is still physically operating in a state of alert built to protect you, even though the terrible moment of learning news of your sibling's death has passed.
What you can influence is how much space you give your body to practice feeling safe again, by gentle showing your body each day that it IS physically safe enough to stop scanning for danger.
I've listed practices below that can actually be incredibly helpful to incorporate as part of your regular routine:
In the moment: what might help right now
Extended exhale breathing (physiological sigh). Breathing out longer than you breathe in activates your vagus nerve and signals safety to your nervous system faster than almost anything else. Try inhaling for four counts and exhaling for six or seven.
Orienting response. Slowly turn your head and let your eyes land on a few neutral, unremarkable things around you. This is a technique developed by trauma researcher Peter Levine, and it works by reminding your nervous system that it's allowed to look around without finding a threat.
Deep pressure stimulation. A heavy blanket, a hand pressed firmly on your own chest, or sitting with your back against something solid gives your nervous system proprioceptive input, meaning pressure and body awareness, that helps it register safety and support.
Present-moment anchoring. Saying something like, "I am safe in this room right now, even though my body doesn't feel that yet," creates a small, factual gap between the alarm your body is sounding and what's actually true right now.
Cold response (mammalian dive reflex). Splashing cold water on your face, or holding a cold pack against your cheeks or the back of your neck, triggers a built-in reflex that slows your heart rate and shifts your nervous system out of fight-or-flight, often within seconds. This is one of the tools used in DBT specifically because it works on the body directly, without needing your mind to be calm enough to use it first.
An art prompt to try:
Imagine the part of you that stays on guard, the part that's always scanning, always bracing, always trying to keep you one step ahead of the next terrible phone call. If that part had a face, a body, a posture, what would it look like? Is it small and tense, or does it take up a lot of space? What is it wearing, holding, standing near? Draw or paint that part as if it were a character. You don't need any art skill for this. Stick figures and rough shapes tell the truth just as well as detailed drawings.
Once you've drawn it, if you want to go a little further, you can ask that part a question and see what comes: What are you so afraid will happen if you stop watching? What do you need to feel like you can rest, even a little?
This part of you was formed to protect you after your world proved it could fall apart without warning. Getting to know it, rather than fighting it, tends to be a gentler than screaming at it to chill out (lol).
Can hypervigilance ease over time?
Yes, for most people it can, though it tends to happen gradually rather than all at once.
On your own:
- Practicing regulation on calm days, not just hard ones, the same way you would practice any skill you want available to you under pressure.
- Reducing unnecessary stimulation when you're already depleted, since an overloaded nervous system has a much shorter fuse.
- Spending time in genuinely safe environments and relationships, since your nervous system needs repeated evidence of safety to slowly recalibrate.
- Moving your body regularly. Vigilance is a physically held state, and movement helps discharge some of that stored activation.
With professional support:
- Somatic therapies, which work directly with a nervous system stuck in alert mode, often more effectively than talk therapy alone.
- EMDR, which can help process the underlying events driving the hypervigilance, not just manage the symptom.
- A conversation with a psychiatrist, for some people, about whether medication support makes sense alongside therapy.
One thing to hold onto this week
Your body isn't broken and it isn't overreacting. It's trying, with everything it has, to protect you from the painful truth you now know that this world is not always safe. That protection can soften over time, not because you force it to, but because you keep offering your nervous system small, repeated proof that it's safe to rest.
Sending you so much care this week,
Gretchen
