What My Body is Teaching me About Conflict
No one told me that coming home to my body would feel like stepping into a haunted house.
I used to think somatic work was all about deep breathing and gentle stretches. Maybe some nervous system regulation and a few tools for grounding in high-stakes meetings. What no one prepared me for was the raw truth that staying in my body, especially in conflict or times of tension, can feel terrifying. Not because I don’t want to be present, but because for much of my life, presence felt dangerous.
As a child, my body was not a safe place to be. Abuse, both physical and sexual, taught me that my body was a target, not a home. I learned to scan rooms for exits, faces for mood shifts, voices for tone.
Hyper-vigilance became my nervous system’s default. It kept me alive. And like many survivors, I became masterful at leaving my body at the first sign of threat.
But what happens when you’re in a room not as a child, but as a facilitator, coach, leader, mother, and the room gets tense? Someone raises their voice. Power dynamics flare.
A microaggression lands like a slap. Do I stay? Do I dissociate?
Do I collapse or fawn or fight back?
That’s the tension I now live in: this dance between wanting to stay, and wanting to survive.
Somatics Is Not a Self-Improvement Project
The work of generative somatics taught me that somatic practice isn’t about becoming calm or “regulated” for regulation’s sake. It’s about returning to ourselves and our wholeness, and not seeing ourselves (or others) as broken. Staci K. Haines, author and Social Justice Somatics Practitioner reminds us that:
“Our survival strategies are brilliant. They’re not the problem, they’re the adaptation. And they deserve reverence, not shame.”
Dr. Resmaa Menakem, healer, author and founder of somatic abolitionism, writes about trauma as:
“A wordless story our body tells itself about what dangers to guard against.”
In conflict, I’ve had moments where my chest tightens, my throat closes, my scalp prickles, and I used to override that, thinking, “Keep going. Be professional. Hold the space.” But I’ve since learned those sensations are not distractions from my work, they are my work. My body isn’t betraying me. It’s alerting me.
As Somatic Experiencing Practitioner Avdeep Bahra has so powerfully said, "healing is not about becoming someone new, it’s about remembering who we were before we learned to protect ourselves so fiercely."
And in the words of Somatic Bodyworker Cortenay Crosson:
“One option is to be with our bodies until we can be in our bodies.”
That distinction continues to shape me. Being with my body in moments of overwhelm, without forcing myself to fully inhabit it, has become a profound gateway to compassion.
I give myself permission to take my time. To listen. To arrive in pieces, if needed.
So the question becomes:
If I’m being asked to trade hyper-vigilance for presence, what am I getting in return?
And more importantly:
What support—what resourcing—do I need in order to make that trade safely?
Resourcing Is More Than Self-Care
In our work at Mending the Chasm, one of our pillars is resourcing, which we define as the internal and external supports we need to show up with integrity, courage, and care. It’s one of our core pillars because no transformation, whether it’s personal or organizational, can happen in a vacuum. We don’t just need people to “bring their full selves to work.” We need to ensure they have the capacity to do so.
Resourcing looks like:
Healing-centered spaces where people can name harm without fear.
Trauma-informed coaching for leaders navigating conflict.
Clear processes that don’t leave the most impacted to do the heavy lifting.
Community. Rest. Rehearsal.
In organizations, I often see unspoken trauma play out in boardrooms and Teams chats:
The leader who over-corrects for fear of being wrong.
The team member who shuts down, turning their screens off in virtual spaces when tension arises.
The normalized culture of walking on eggshells that is often mistaken for psychological safety.
We ask people to lean into discomfort but forget that not everyone has the same relationship to their body, to trauma, to power, or to risk.
To truly resource our teams, we need to stop pathologizing survival responses.
Instead, we need to normalize asking, “What would help you feel more supported here?” rather than assuming everyone can just “regulate and return.”
Coming Back Home
I’m still learning how to stay.
I still leave my body sometimes. I still freeze. I still scan the room. But more often now, thanks to the somatic therapy and body-based healing work I do, I also feel my feet. I notice the trembling and stay with it. I take a breath and name it, “This feels hard,” and let that be enough.
And every time I choose to be present , not because I’m forced to, but because I intentionally choose to, I can feel my body soften.
Not because I’ve healed everything, but because I’ve resourced myself enough to believe: “I can handle this. I’m not alone. I don’t have to disappear to be safe.”
This is what my healing and my body are teaching me.
That conflict is an opportunity to meet my edges, and to understand that I can still choose to practice my values, even there, out at the edge of comfort.
In the words of Resmaa Menakem
“You/we are not defective. You/we don’t need fixing. You/we need support (resource).”
Reflection Questions
What signals does your body give you when conflict arises? Do you notice, ignore, or respond to them?
What stories are you telling yourself about the survival strategies you have used in the past ? Are they compassionate and reverent? If not, try regrounding the strategies in affirmation and gratitude for helping you survive and for doing the best you could with what you had. How does it feel to shift the story?
What does resourcing mean to you right now? What support do you need to feel safer staying present?
As a leader, how do your own survival responses shape the way you show up in moments of tension? How might you resource yourself to lead with more presence and compassion?
Like, comment and share if this piece resonates at all - it’s welcome and appreciated.
Also, if you or your team are navigating tension, change, or the quiet aftermath of harm—and you're seeking support that’s trauma-informed, justice-rooted, and grounded in care, I’d be honoured to hold space with you. This is the heart of what I do.
You’re not alone. Let’s mend chasms together.
leena@mendingthechasm.ca