The beliefs we have, and who we think we inherently are, dictate how we respond to our environment. Most of the time, these are ingrained in childhood and are working throughout our lives "behind the scenes," through the subconscious, controlling our thoughts, emotions, decisions, and actions.
It's natural for children to develop coping strategies in order to survive whatever is happening in their lives. As a child, I lived with a mother with a hair-trigger temper that was easily set off. As a result, I learned to be quiet so I didn't enrage her. I coped with my environment by hiding in the background, doing what I was told to do, and not talking back. Sometimes I would even try to smooth things over so I could help whatever sibling was at the receiving end of her wrath. These strategies were necessary for me as a child dependent on others to meet my basic needs. The problem arose when my scared inner child continued to take control, making decisions from a place of fear rather than allowing the capable adult I’d become lead the way.
This is what happens when childhood coping mechanisms follow us into adulthood. We develop strategies to survive one environment and continue using them long after that environment has changed.
I'm no longer seven years old, watching in fear as my enraged mother yanked my sister's hair because she mouthed off. I'm an adult now, capable of protecting myself and making my own choices yet when I find myself in a situation where tempers might flare, my nervous system reacts as though I'm still that frightened little girl. It activates the same familiar responses: hide, stay quiet, or smooth things over to prevent conflict.
My circumstances have changed, but my nervous system hasn't necessarily caught up.
These responses are often subconscious, habitual, and deeply ingrained. When we're unaware of them, they are automatic, as though we're being driven by something beyond our control. But awareness creates an opportunity for change. As we begin to recognize these patterns and work to retrain our nervous system, those old responses can gradually lose some of their intensity and emotional charge. We can learn to respond to the present rather than react to the past.
This is why compassion matters.
When you see someone experiencing intense anger, fear, or frustration, or engaging in behavior that seems self-destructive, consider that a younger, wounded part of them may have been activated. What looks like an irrational reaction in the present may be a familiar survival response rooted in the past.
Many times, we judge ourselves and others for the actions we take when, in truth, we are walking blindly through the world unaware of what's controlling our emotions, thoughts, decisions, and actions. I'll hear others say, "she's old enough to know better" as if getting older means we automatically make better choices. It can be frustrating to watch someone make the same mistakes time and again but it's important to recognize that repeated, harmful patterns are a sign that something deeper needs to be understood and addressed.
Knowing something intellectually doesn't automatically mean we can put it into practice emotionally. Our conscious understanding and our subconscious conditioning don't always align. For example, I know if I eat certain foods I'm going to feel sick but when I'm stressed, I crave some of those foods because, as a child, eating them made me feel calm and safe. In those moments, there's a tug-of-war between what I know intellectually and what an old, familiar coping mechanism is urging me to do. My brain knows the consequences, but another part of me is seeking the comfort it once associated with feeling safe.
Until I became aware of the patterns driving my behavior and began working to change them, I kept making the same mistakes, falling into the same traps, and getting frustrated with myself. That frustration piece no longer exists. I don't berate myself for falling back to the coping mechanisms that once helped me survive. I'm aware of them and understand their origins so I'm gentle with myself when I feel the old, familiar pull. Although I've done the work to become aware, my subconscious still tries to pull me toward the responses I'm trying to shift away from. The difference now is that I recognize when it's happening and can address it in real time.
Ultimately, awareness changes our relationship with ourselves. Instead of asking, "What's wrong with me?" we can begin asking, "What happened to me, what did I learn to do to survive, and is that response still serving me?"
That shift opens the door to understanding, healing, and choice.
When I started feeling the amazing effects of awareness, I wanted to help other people and sometimes offered my opinion when it wasn't asked for. Over time, I came to understand that isn't my job or right to take away their pain or learn their lessons for them. I can want the best for them but it's their journey, their decision to change or not. What I can do is offer understanding, patience, and compassion as they navigate their own journey. I can offer love and light without taking responsibility for their healing. Sometimes, the most meaningful thing I can do is create the kind of safe, supportive space that allows someone to begin seeing themselves differently.
In the end, we may not be able to control every thought, feeling, or automatic reaction that arises but with awareness and practice, we can learn to relate to those reactions differently and understand it's a younger version of us looking to be seen, heard, and held. That is where our freedom begins: not in denying our past, but in recognizing that we no longer have to let it drive our future.
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