What It Feels Like to Be Stuck in Fight/Flight and Nothing Works

For four days straight, I was trapped in fight-or-flight mode. My nervous system was completely hijacked, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t turn it off. It all started after a somatic therapy session that went horribly wrong, leaving me feeling retraumatized instead of healed.

From that moment, my body was on high alert. My heart pounded so hard that I could feel the vibrations in my chest. It wasn’t racing uncontrollably, but each beat was heavy, as if it was slamming against my ribcage. I’d wake up in the morning, and before my eyes were even fully open, I could feel it—a deep, forceful thump that shook my entire chest.

I tried everything to calm myself down. Meditation, hypnosis, going to the gym—none of it worked. I was stuck in an endless cycle of panic and exhaustion. The worst part? Nothing made sense. I wasn’t actively thinking about anything stressful, but my body was reacting as if I was in imminent danger.

The Social Nightmare

Despite feeling like a wreck, I forced myself to go out. I thought maybe pushing through would help reset my system. So I went to social events, but my nervous system was so overstimulated that I couldn’t relax. My body was there, but my mind was disconnected. I couldn’t engage with people, couldn’t enjoy conversations. I was just… there.

At a party, my chest still pounded. Every interaction felt like a struggle. Talking to people was exhausting. I felt like an outsider, unable to connect. In my mind, I kept thinking, Why does this feel so difficult? Why can’t I just enjoy myself like everyone else? But my body was too overwhelmed to cooperate.

And after pushing through, I crashed even harder. I felt even more discouraged. Instead of feeling proud that I “showed up,” I felt defeated. Like I had failed.

The Cycle of Negativity

While my body was stuck in overdrive, my mind became its own enemy. Negative thoughts dominated my thinking. It was as if my brain was desperately searching for reasons to justify how I felt.

• You’re broken.
• You’ll never fix this.
• This will never go away.
• Everyone else is fine—why are you like this?

It was relentless. No matter what I did, my mind twisted things into negativity. It was like my brain was stuck on a toxic radio station that I couldn’t turn off. And as if that wasn’t enough, the stress wreaked havoc on my stomach. The more anxious I felt, the more acid my stomach produced. Soon, I was dealing with intense stomach pain on top of everything else.

The Breaking Point

For days, I felt completely trapped. I tried every coping mechanism I knew, but my nervous system wouldn’t reset. Every morning, I woke up hoping that the panic would be gone—but it wasn’t.

Then, out of nowhere, something shifted. On Monday morning, I woke up and felt normal again. The heavy, pounding heartbeat was gone. The negativity wasn’t as overwhelming. My body wasn’t locked in a constant state of fear. It just stopped.

I wish I could say that I did something to fix it, but I don’t think that’s what happened. It was almost like my nervous system just gave up on being in fight-or-flight mode. It exhausted itself, and I finally got to rest.

The Aftermath

Looking back, I realize something critical: I was completely powerless to “think” my way out of this. The fight-or-flight response is a bodily reaction, not just a mental one.

It didn’t matter how much I told myself I was safe. My body wasn’t listening. It was operating on a completely different system, one that had been triggered too intensely for logic to override it.

This experience made me see how deep my trauma responses run. The way my body reacts to stress is completely disproportionate. And it isn’t random.

For years, my nervous system has learned that conflict, expressing myself, or asserting my needs equals punishment or danger. My childhood experiences—where I was constantly invalidated, gaslit, or punished for speaking up—trained my body to react this way.

Even writing a simple negative review about the therapist who retraumatized me felt terrifying. My first instinct was to worry about retaliation, just like I did as a child when my father would punish me for standing up for myself. I was trained to believe that speaking up equals punishment.

The Bigger Picture

This whole experience showed me just how much unresolved trauma lives in my nervous system. My body reacts in extreme ways to situations that, logically, shouldn’t be that threatening. But because of my past, my system perceives them as life-or-death situations.

This explains so many things in my life:

• Why I hesitate before making decisions. I was trained to second-guess everything because my father always invalidated my choices.
• Why I struggle with relationships. I learned that expressing my needs equals rejection or punishment.
• Why I fear conflict. Every past experience with conflict led to loss, punishment, or forced silence.
• Why I feel powerless when it comes to money. I was conditioned to believe I should stay in a miserable job with an abusive boss—because that’s the dynamic I grew up with.

Moving Forward

If there’s one thing I take away from this, it’s that this pattern isn’t mine. It was forced onto me.

I see now that my reactions aren’t because I’m weak or broken. They are survival responses that were programmed into me. But now, I have the awareness to start rewiring them.

The next step isn’t about just “thinking differently.” It’s about teaching my body that it’s safe. That my decisions are valid. That my voice deserves to be heard. That I don’t have to live in survival mode forever.

And most importantly—that I don’t have to wait to live.

Here is another interesting read on how your nervous system can be hijacked.