Fight, Flight, Freeze—and the Shape of the Body in Trauma
How survival responses shape posture—and why the psoas matters
Talking about trauma often happens in the abstract. Discussions ensue about emotional states, different diagnoses, and a retelling of memories. People with trauma histories confront memory with another level of abstraction – they may have troubles with recall, or when telling a story, leave a lot out to protect the listener. The mind travels all over the place related to trauma, while the body stores it. Bessel van der Kolk writes about this in The Body Keeps the Score.
Trauma is, thus, intensely physiological.
It lives in the body. Lodging there takes no time…alas, part of recovery includes release of the very physical, embodied residue of traumatic histories. The fight, flight, or freeze response – biological and neurological – represents one of the clearest ways to help facilitate an understanding of the wisdom of the body and how it responds to trauma.
This response represents the body’s primitive survival system, activated by the amygdala—a part of the brain that bypasses cognition or thought, sending the body straight into action. Behaviors that follow are not about understanding but rather about surviving.
Let me walk you through the mechanism.
The Brain’s First Responder: The Amygdala
The amygdala is part of what’s often called the "reptilian brain." Rather than analyze or reflect, the amygdala reacts to perceived threats. Since brains are programmed to identify danger, most of us are adept at identifying what’s wrong, threatening, or dangerous in the environment and responding to it quickly – whether than means we stop and go numb (freeze), run away (flight), or get angry (fight).
These responses happen as the amygdala shouts “Go!” Think of stories where someone lifts a car to save a child. That’s the amygdala taking charge. No time to think—just do.
In trauma, the same thing happens. But instead of saving someone, our bodies launch into literal physical defense mechanisms.
More Detail
1. Fight
You respond with aggression—maybe physically, maybe with words. You might imagine hitting someone or something; in worse case scenarios, you do. In other cases, you may experience internal rage and hold that in. Here, bodies push against a threat.
Physiologically, this looks like:
Squared shoulders
Planted feet
A rush of blood to the head
Arms ready to strike or shield – usually tense regardless
Hips flexed and engaged
2. Flight
Here, fear dominates as the immediate response (although because every response is part of the same mechanism, fear often masks anger and vice versa. Next time you feel rage, ask yourself what you are afraid of – or next time you are afraid ask yourself what you feel angry about – super interesting exercise). In flight, the urge is to run and get away from the threat.
This looks like:
Leaning away – or leaning very forward
Narrowed posture – getting small and adaptive
Legs ready to sprint
Again, the hips flex to prepare for motion
Here the muscles also tense to propel the body
3. Freeze
I think that this is the most misunderstood response. People often perceive freeze as “doing nothing.” But it is a powerful physiological shutdown that usually bypasses any kind of cognitive control. Animals in the wild are excellent at it use the collapse to pretend dead to protect them from prey.
Think:
Muscles lock up – all tonicity is gone
Words disappear
The body feels disconnected or “outside” of the self
The posture often collapses inward—curled, small, tight (who besides me has cried in a fetal position?!)
What Do These Have in Common?
All three responses share one key feature: they involve a closing or flexing at the hip joint. The body curls in on itself or braces itself to protect our most vulnerable areas – the neck, the solar plexus, and the groin.
This brings us to the psoas—a deep core muscle that connects the spine to the legs. I am actually referring to two muscles that get grouped together as the psoas – iliacus and the iliopsoas. Both are essential for fighting, running, and crouching or curling into a protective ball.
The psoas holds trauma. I’ve seen it time and again in my somatic work: this muscle locks up. It can make sex painful; it can affect the bowels and infringe with deep breathing. And while working with it can bring relief, that work results in vulnerability—because it means stepping out of protective modes.
The Cost of Staying in Survival
The fight/flight/freeze responses are adaptive during danger. But outside of the moment of threat, they can become maladaptive—recurring even when we’re safe.
This is how trauma lingers.
A question to ponder:
Am I responding to the present—or to the past that still lives in my body?
Recovery involves recognizing the answer, naming a pattern, honoring the role the body played to protect you, and slowly allowing the body to soften. Vulnerability becomes the bridge—not the enemy.
Coming Next
In a future post, I’ll go deeper into the psoas, its role in trauma recovery, and why working with this muscle can bring such intense emotional release.
Until then, consider this:
Your trauma response made sense when it started. But does it still serve you now?
Let the body answer.
Your body already knows.
Want to learn how to listen more deeply?
I'll be teaching an in-person workshop in London on June 22 where we’ll explore the psoas, trauma, and performance. It’s for athletes, coaches, therapists—or anyone ready to reconnect with the body as guide.
Or stay tuned for future workshops. Follwo me on instagram @stephanie_arel or @vanagrowth.