Healing After Domestic Violence (Why the Body Holds What the Mind Tries to Move Past)

A note before you read: this post covers some of the physical symptoms of trauma, which can be quite activating. Please read at a pace that is comfortable for you and feel free to pause or return to it at any time.

For the past three weeks, I've been writing about domestic violence, including the kind that doesn't leave bruises. I've talked about how hard it is to leave and what can really help someone get through it. In today's final article, I'd like to focus on the journey toward healing.

Even after the danger has passed, the body may not realize it right away

Many people believe healing begins as soon as you're safe. The relationship ends, the door closes, and the person is gone, but something unexpected can happen: your body reacts as if the threat is still there. People often assume that once things change, you're safe, but survival doesn't work like that. Feeling safe in your life and feeling safe in your body are two different things, and they don't always happen at the same time.

As I mentioned two weeks ago, for many people, the threat hasn't really ended. Separation can be the most dangerous time in a relationship (Mahoney, 1991), and abuse can continue or even get worse after it's over (Spearman et al., 2023). Harassment, stalking, court battles, and custody fights may still happen. For some survivors, the danger may have passed; either way, they may still be experiencing a heightened sense of threat in their bodies. The body isn't confused; it is behaving as it's been conditioned to: to keep a person safe.

The mind and the body learn different lessons

When someone lives with abuse, their nervous system learns to always look for danger: a change in mood, a certain tone of voice, footsteps in the hallway, and so on. This isn't a flaw; it's a smart survival strategy.

The nervous system doesn't forget what kept a person safe, even long after the relationship ends. Things like a raised voice in a store, a car pulling in too close, or a late-night text can trigger a response. The body might jump into survival mode (heart racing, shallow breathing, a sense of dread) without any clear reason. Even if a person rationally knows there's no danger, the body reacts to old memories that move faster than thought. The pain of healing often comes from this gap between what the mind knows and the body remembers.

What we know about the nervous system

This is where polyvagal theory can really help make sense of what survivors go through. Dr. Stephen Porges developed this model to explain how the nervous system shifts between states in response to safety or danger (Porges, 2011). While it's a widely used clinical tool, it's not the final word on how the body works. Still, for many clinicians, including myself, it's a helpful way to understand and explain these experiences.

According to this model, when we feel safe, we connect with others, rest, digest, and think clearly. When we sense danger, our system first goes into fight-or-flight: feeling energized, agitated, or ready to run or defend. If fighting or fleeing isn't possible, the body may freeze or shut down as a last resort. For people living with abuse, these shifts can happen often and without warning. Over time, the system can get stuck in high alert, numbness, or oscillating between those states. This isn't a choice or a weakness. It's the body's way of adapting to a tough situation and not yet realizing things have changed.

Why the body holds what the mind tries to move past

Talking about it isn't always enough. Someone might know their whole story, recognize the patterns, describe the abuse, and fully understand it wasn't their fault. Still, their body might tense up when a door slams. Trauma isn't just a story; it's stored as sensations, movements, and automatic reactions. It lives below the level of words (van der Kolk, 2014).

Somatic work doesn't ask you to use logic to override your survival response. Instead, it helps you notice what your body is doing, like tightness in your chest, holding your breath, or tension in your jaw. Just noticing these things without judgment gives your body a new experience. A feeling can come up, be noticed, and then pass without anything bad happening. This work is slow, and that's okay. The body didn't learn to distrust quickly, and it won't learn to trust quickly either.

Several evidence-based therapies are built on this idea. EMDR helps process traumatic memories that feel stuck by using bilateral stimulation to move them into the past (Shapiro, 2001). Internal Family Systems works with the protective and wounded parts that helped you survive, approaching them with curiosity so they can finally relax (Schwartz, 1995). Somatic and polyvagal-informed therapies teach you to notice your state and practice returning to balance (Kuhfuß et al., 2021). None of these are quick fixes or the only right way. What they share is the belief that healing needs to include both the body and the mind.

When the danger is finally gone, survivors might actually feel worse before they feel better. Surviving required some numbness. When safety arrives, that numbness fades and all the feelings that were hidden can come rushing in: exhaustion that won't lift, waves of grief, dreams that bring back pieces of the past. This isn't going backward. It's the body finally letting the experience come up so it can be processed. Sometimes, breaking open is the start of healing.

There is no timeline, and there is no such thing as falling behind

If you're healing, you might need to hear this: there's no right pace. Some people notice changes in a few weeks. For others, the first year is just about surviving, and things get easier later. Some days you'll have insights; other days you'll feel completely drained. Both are part of healing. Neither means you're doing it wrong.

You're not behind. You're not broken. You're not struggling because you aren't trying hard enough. What you're doing is harder than most people will ever have to do. You're teaching a body that has only known danger that safety is possible.

Remember: your body can learn. A nervous system that learned to brace can also learn to relax. A body that learned to survive can learn to rest. This doesn't happen overnight or by force, but through many small moments of safety. Healing isn't a finish line; it's a direction you keep moving in. Every ordinary moment of releasing tension, setting a boundary, or taking a calm breath is progress.

If you're supporting someone in this situation, you can't rush their healing, measure it, or speed it up with love alone. What you can do is be steady, believe in them, and let your calm help their nervous system until they find calm within themselves again. This is some of the most important support you can give.

Moving toward healing

This is the main message of the series: control can last even after the relationship ends, and danger can persist in the body. Healing after domestic violence isn't about returning to who you were before; it's about releasing old burdens and becoming someone new. That's why healing can't be rushed, and why steady support from others matters.

If you're the one who got out, you're not behind or broken. You're doing the hard, often unseen work of teaching your body that survival is over and healing is possible.

If you need support

If you are in immediate danger, call 911.

National Domestic Violence Hotline – 1-800-799-SAFE (7233); TTY 1-800-787-3224; text "START" to 88788; chat at thehotline.org. Free, confidential, 24/7, open to anyone regardless of gender or relationship type.

StrongHearts Native Helpline – 1-844-762-8483.

love is respect – 1-866-331-9474, or text "LOVEIS" to 22522.

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline – call or text 988.

A note on technology precautions. If someone may be monitoring your phone, accounts, or location, seek help on a device they don't have access to, like a work or library computer or a trusted friend's phone.

References

Kuhfuß, M., Maldei, T., Hetmanek, A., & Baumann, N. (2021). Somatic experiencing – Effectiveness and key factors of a body-oriented trauma therapy: A scoping literature review. European Journal of Psychotraumatology, 12(1), Article 1929023.

Mahoney, M. R. (1991). Legal images of battered women: Redefining the issue of separation. Michigan Law Review, 90(1), 1–94.

Porges, S. W. (2011). The polyvagal theory: Neurophysiological foundations of emotions, attachment, communication, and self-regulation. W. W. Norton.

Schwartz, R. C. (1995). Internal family systems therapy. Guilford Press.

Shapiro, F. (2001). Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing: Basic principles, protocols, and procedures (2nd ed.). Guilford Press.

Spearman, K. J., Hardesty, J. L., & Campbell, J. (2023). Post-separation abuse: A concept analysis. Journal of Advanced Nursing, 79(4), 1225–1246.

van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The body keeps the score: Brain, mind, and body in the healing of trauma. Viking.