How the Body Keeps the Score and What Helps Trauma Release and Heal Over Time
- Feb 5
- 7 min read
Updated: Feb 6
Jenna McDonough is a trauma-sensitive emotional regulation specialist who supports adults and children through meditation, mindfulness, breathwork, somatic resets, and sound healing. She is the creator of the PEACEFUL: Mindful Moments for Every Age app and author of Kind Kids. Her mission is to make emotional well-being accessible to all.
You might not remember the exact moment something changed, but your body often does. Trauma and chronic stress can leave a physiological imprint that shows up later as tension, shutdown, anxiety, pain, or a persistent feeling of being “on edge.” In this article, I’ll share real-life observations from my work with children and families and the science that helps explain why the nervous system holds on, and what can help it soften, complete, and release.
What does it mean when we say, “the body keeps the score”?
The phrase “the body keeps the score” is a widely used way to describe a well-supported concept in trauma psychology. Experiences that overwhelm the nervous system can be stored as implicit memory patterns of sensation, emotion, and physiological response rather than as clear, narrative memory. That means the body can react as if a threat is happening now, even when the conscious mind can’t point to a single “reason.”
Bessel van der Kolk popularized this body-based understanding of trauma and emphasized how traumatic stress can shape the brain and body together.
Read more about how the nervous system shapes stress responses and emotional regulation: How To Manage Your Emotions – A Guide To Nervous System Regulation With Simple Habits
Why two people can live the same experience and carry it differently
I’ve worked with many children in my life, and one thing I can say with certainty is that no two are exactly the same. They may share similar traits, personalities, or even life circumstances, but their nervous systems are uniquely shaped by temperament, attachment experiences, and the environment around them.
As a young teacher, I taught and tutored, which gave me a deeper view of how children learn and relate outside the classroom. I got to know students one-on-one and, in some cases, their siblings, too, seeing how family dynamics, emotional safety, and regulatory patterns can look similar on the surface while functioning very differently beneath the surface.
That’s why I’ve always been intrigued by comparisons, twins with similar experiences, siblings with shared environments across different time frames, and, most revealing of all, adopted siblings whose early-life experiences differed in profound ways.
A story the mind forgot, but the body remembered
I worked closely with siblings who had been adopted from China. I was deeply touched that this family felt safe enough to share their adoption story with me. Before that experience, I didn’t fully understand the emotional and developmental complexities of international adoption. What I learned was eye-opening and heartbreaking.
Both children were adopted by the same loving family. Both were brought home to warmth, stability, medical support, extended family, and care. Consciously, once they were in America, all they “knew” was their new home life.
But their bodies told two different stories.
One child had spent their early life in a smaller, more nurturing setting. She received consistent care: holding, feeding, responsive touch, interaction, and opportunities to move, play, and connect. This child grew into what many would describe as bubbly, expressive, outgoing, and quick to trust, socially confident, and emotionally open.
The other child came from a more traditional, high-volume orphanage environment with limited touch and minimal responsive care. She was often kept in a crib. Bottles were propped. Physical affection was scarce. In some cases, basic neglect led to physical issues that required intervention after adoption, an unfortunate reality documented in many institutional care settings.
This child grew into someone different, reserved, serious, slow to warm up, and uncomfortable with physical touch. She was vigilant, watching, listening, and tracking. She learned quietly and quickly, absorbing what was happening around her long before she trusted people enough to engage.
She didn’t remember her earliest months in words. But her body remembered what it was like to need and not receive consistent comfort.
What research says about early deprivation and nervous system development
What I observed in these children aligns with what developmental psychology and child psychiatry research has shown for decades, early deprivation can shape attachment, stress physiology, and emotional regulation, even when later environments are safe and loving.
Large bodies of research on children raised in institutional care show elevated risk for attachment difficulties, difficulties with emotion regulation, and long-term stress-system impacts, especially when early caregiving lacked warmth, consistency, and responsive touch.
One of the best-known research efforts on this topic is the Bucharest Early Intervention Project, which examined the effects of early institutionalization and the impact of placing children into nurturing foster care environments.
Explore how attachment and early life experiences shape emotional regulation: The Attachment Trauma Trilogy Part I & 2
Trauma isn’t only “Big T” events: The body stores what overwhelms
While institutional deprivation is a powerful illustration of how early trauma can settle in the body, the same nervous system principle applies across the lifespan.
A schoolyard humiliation. A painful breakup. A public mistake at work. A fender bender. A season of chronic stress.
You may not remember the exact words or moment, but your body remembers the feeling, the contraction in the chest, the heat in the face, the freeze in the throat, the shutdown in the belly. That’s unprocessed energy left in the system.
And when that stored response gets “pressed on,” you can feel triggered, reactive, overwhelmed, flooded, or numb. Over time, unresolved stress can contribute to physical symptoms and inflammatory patterns, which is why trauma-informed care increasingly considers the mind-body connection.
The good news: You don’t have to remember it to heal it
One of the most hopeful truths I’ve learned through teaching, healing work, and lived experience is this: You do not have to remember something clearly to heal it fully.
Because healing isn’t only cognitive. It is physiological. It’s about helping the nervous system complete what it couldn’t complete at the time, returning to safety, restoring flexibility, and expanding your window of tolerance.
What helps the body release stored trauma energy?
Before anything else, I’m a strong proponent of working with licensed mental health and medical professionals, especially when symptoms are severe, persistent, or affecting daily life.
Once that foundation is in place, trauma-informed, body-based practices can support regulation and integration. Here are four that many people find helpful:
1. Mindfulness and meditation
Mindfulness practices are associated with changes in brain function and connectivity related to emotion regulation, including reduced amygdala reactivity and strengthened prefrontal regulatory networks in multiple studies.
Body-based meditation is especially helpful when trauma is held as sensation rather than story. It teaches interoception, safely noticing what’s happening inside the body without becoming overwhelmed.
In my practice, I often use emotional-release meditations that include scanning the body, noticing where tension or emotion lives, and breathing into that area gently. I describe it like a jellyfish, the inhale expands, the exhale softens, restoring rhythmic movement and signaling safety to the brain.
Learn more about the benefits and how incorporate a Meditation and Mindfulness Practice: How to Start a Meditation Practice Even if You Think You Can’t Sit Still
2. Breathwork and vagus-nerve Support
Slow, paced breathing is one of the most direct ways to influence the autonomic nervous system. When breath becomes slow and rhythmic, it can support parasympathetic activation, the “rest and digest” state, improving the body’s felt sense of safety over time. (This is also one reason breath is used across evidence-based trauma therapies.)
3. EMDR for trauma processing
In my own healing journey, EMDR became a key support when my nervous system couldn’t “turn off” after a traumatic experience. EMDR is widely recognized as an evidence-based treatment for PTSD, with multiple reviews and clinical resources supporting its effectiveness.
4. Supportive body-based modalities (including sound and somatic work)
Somatic approaches focus on completing threat responses through gentle movement, sensation, and nervous system regulation rather than only retelling the story. Mindfulness-related interventions also show neurobiological effects that may support emotional regulation and stress resilience.
Explore how movement after trauma benefits the nervous system: How Trauma Energy Gets Stored in the Body and What Helps It Release
The body isn’t betraying you, it’s protecting you
If you take one thing from this article, let it be this:
Your body’s responses are not signs that you are broken. They are signs that something once overwhelmed your system, and your system adapted to survive.
Whether the stored “score” comes from early deprivation, a painful season of life, or a single moment your nervous system couldn’t process in real time, healing is possible. It happens when you create the conditions for completion, safety, support, repetition, and compassionate attention to the body’s signals.
You don’t have to force release. You don’t have to relive everything. You can heal by helping the nervous system learn little by little that the threat has passed.
If you recognize yourself in this, especially if your body is carrying stress, tension, anxiety, or shutdown, consider starting with professional support and exploring trauma-informed, body-based practices that help you reconnect safely. Small, consistent steps toward regulation can create profound change over time.
“When we stop asking what’s wrong with us and start asking what our nervous system learned, healing becomes a return to safety, not a battle against ourselves.”
Author reflection
This piece comes from both professional experience and deep observation. Working with children and families taught me early on that behavior is never just behavior. It’s communication. When I witnessed adopted siblings with vastly different early caregiving experiences, it clarified something I now hold as foundational: the mind may not remember, but the body does. My hope is that this article reduces shame, increases compassion, and helps readers see their symptoms as signals, guiding them toward support, regulation, and healing that honors the whole person.
Follow me on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and visit my website for more info!
Read more from Jenna McDonough
Jenna McDonough, Emotional Regulation Specialist
Jenna McDonough is a meditation and mindfulness teacher, children’s book author, and emotional regulation specialist dedicated to helping people of all ages live more peaceful and present lives. She supports adults and children in recognizing, understanding, and moving through their emotions with meditation, mindfulness, somatic resets, breathwork, and sound and energy healing, all offered through a trauma-sensitive approach that ensures safe and empowering experiences. She is the founder of the PEACEFUL: Mindful Moments for Every Age App and the author of Kind Kids: The Adventures of Hurley, Pearl, and the Pink Soldiers of Kindness, and the creator of meditation and healing arts courses designed to foster emotional intelligence, resilience, and compassion.
