Survivor versus Victim Mentality as a Response to Complex Trauma

Part A — Understanding the evolution of gross trauma archetypes

When we experience complex trauma, we move into survival physiology, to do just that… survive. Our bodies are quite wonderful at protecting us. When we perceive danger, the autonomic nervous system activates into a myriad of nuanced survival responses, but if we classify them into two gross categories, we can recognise that we may either a) fight/flee or b) freeze/shut down. Both of these are protective responses. They are keeping us safe from the perceived threat. Both responses also entail some degree of dissociation. When it is not safe to calmly face the danger head on, the prefrontal cortex goes off-line and the more primitive parts of the brain are in charge. In a neurophysiological sense, we lose access to part of ourselves. With this neurophysiological adaptation, comes a mental, emotional and relational adaptation — we split off from the part(s) of ourselves that is not safe, and interact from the part(s) that can protect us.

The kind of activation that we move into will depend on: nature of threat, duration of threat and predisposition of neural foundations.

In a healthy system, when the sense of danger passes, the survival physiology switches off and the nervous system returns to its base line or resting state.

But what happens when the traumatic experience is either so severe or so prolonged, that the base line or resting state shifts? What happens when it becomes normal to live in a state of never-ending or repeated danger?

Our neural foundation calibrates to know danger as normal.

The nervous system learns through experience and repetition. So, if there are multiple or prolonged experiences of danger, the nervous system will adapt to orientate and rest in a state of survival. There is permanent activation — either sympathetic (fight/flight) or parasympathetic (freeze/shut/down) — or both (co-activation).

Therefore, we are either permanently fighting/fleeing or permanently freezing/shutting down, or switching between the two. These states of survival become a chronic underpinning of not just our neurophysiology, but of our whole existence. The effects span layers of physical, mental, emotional and relational experience.

Every response and every layer, is actually a reaction to the deep-seated state of danger.

Why do some people shut down and become victims to their trauma and why do some people thrive in spite of their trauma?

My sense is that this depends on the original neural base line and which parts of self, had to be suppressed in order to survive. As we continue to explore this concept, we move away from the neurophysiology and start to examine real-life context. The questions are: 1) what was happening during the experience of danger? 2)How was it safe to respond? 3)What parts of self had to be supressed or shut down in order to survive? (These are questions I ask myself during client intake)

While we can call the trauma archetypes ‘survivor’ and ‘victim’, I’d like to emphasize here, that both resulting archetypes are formed from the need to survive. The victim exists, because it was not safe to fight or flee (and we will explore this more later on in this piece). The survivor exists, because it was not safe to be the victim and ask for help.

Both these resulting trauma archetypes are experiencing some level of fragmentation and self-alienation.

Why do we respond so differently to these archetypes?

In today’s society, we often acknowledge the survivor types as strong and amazing for overcoming. And we feel empathy and maybe a bit of disdain for the victim types that have seemed unable to break free from their past.

In actual fact, both archetypes are still in a state of perpetual reaction to their traumatic history.

It’s just that we favour one over the other. Survivor types seem to be easier to work with because they have drive and desire to change, whereas the victim types seem to lack will-power and the ability to self-direct.

There are two main differences between these two archetypes.

1. ‘Survivors’ tend to orientate to a resting state of fight or flight, whereas ‘victims’ tend to orientate towards a resting state of freeze/shut down.
2. ‘Survivors’ tend to have a strong internal locus of control (that is they feel that they are in control of their experience — which can manifest as a sense of controlling behaviour), whereas ‘victims’ tend to have a strong external locus of control (that is they feel that the external world is in control of their experience — which can manifest as a sense of powerlessness)

Exploring the ‘survivor’ archetype

‘Survivors’ often manage to change their experience and ‘recover’ from their trauma. However, the sense of strength required may serve as a shield to accessing the deeply wounded parts of self that had to be suppressed in order to survive.

I see a lot of this archetype come into clinic. They are making headway on their health and their life circumstances. But what tends to arise is a palpable sense of disconnection, supressed emotions (particularly anger and fear) and the inability to ask for or accept help with ease. Inside, many of these incredibly strong survivor types are terrified young versions of themselves. For these clients, the work becomes finding a way to take down their shell of strength and listen to these suppressed fragments and support a reintegration of self. Many of these clients refer to ‘the real me’ or ‘the me inside’. That’s exactly what happens — the self that is shown to the world isn’t real, it was crafted in order to protect and survive. And because they connect to the external world form this false sense of self, there is a fundamental sense of disconnection, or as I prefer to say, ‘misconnection’. This can present as the feeling of always being different, not fitting in, and feeling ‘not like myself’. This is self-alienation.

To me this begs the question, if as therapists, we are looking to support trauma recovery, for this type, is it enough to cheerlead and witness them go from strength to strength and ‘win’ at life? Or is the work much deeper? Is it to support them to feel safe enough to break down their protective shell, meet those suppressed parts and find out who they really are? My sense is the latter.

To truly ‘recover’, this archetype requires a therapeutic dynamic that promotes self-inquiry, vulnerability and acceptance of all their suppressed parts. It is through this discovery and integration that the nervous system will eventually find equilibrium and recalibrate. The work is deeply relational and cannot be based purely on discharge and down-regulation (more on this in part b of this article).

Exploring the ‘victim’ archetype

Victims often present as people who are stuck in their story, their misery, and their identity as a sick or traumatised person. However, this presentation has often arisen because during the traumatic experience, it was not safe to fight/flee — to say no, set a boundary or walk away from the situation. Therefore, they have become chronically disempowered.

When these clients present at clinic, they often have a mixture of depressive and anxious tendencies, unexplained physical symptoms and the feeling of being stuck or hopeless and have often down the rounds of many therapists and/or therapies, reinforcing their feeling of powerlessness and external locus of control. Many describe the world as an unsafe or threatening place and are overwhelmed by other people. These clients are highly attuned and reactive to even the slightest misattunment presented by the therapist or anyone else. It is as if connection in general poses a threat. Therefore, when they sense anything other than perfect attunement, they shut down further, because it is their default response to danger. I have also noticed that these clients orient strongly to the idea of a danger map. It is as if all they know is danger, so they are constantly looking out for it. When they stumble across a shred of safety or positivity, it is like they are repelled back into their danger zone… because it is safe and comfy there. I call this the trauma paradox. The danger becomes safe and the safety becomes dangerous.

These clients often end up in my treatment room after doing the rounds of many therapists. I have had fellow practitioners warn me about how useless therapy can be for this archetype. These clients get classified as draining and unable to be helped. (I even remember one experienced practitioner who advises his students not to take on this kind of client!)

So how do we work with these clients that are incredibly difficult to work with and seem to have no sense of drive to recover? Is it to tiptoe around them and try and make them feel safe? Or is it to push them harder to make a change? My sense here is that it is much more complex. These clients require a gentle but firm approach that is highly relational; a bit like a firm but kind mother. They require a model and mentor.

In contrast to the survivor archetype, the victim archetype requires a therapeutic dynamic where it is ultimately safe to find their sense of power — to shift the locus of control to a more inward orientation. Many of these clients have such a severe and prolonged experience of dissociation, that the work is to create a safe enough space to be associated — to the body, to the unexpressed fight/flee response and to the whole range of un-accessed emotions (both positive and negative). Once it is safe to associate, it is safe to start to feel again, which is the crux of the shut-down response; inability or fear to feel.

Acknowledging complexities

It is my sense that all trauma clients experience some level of co-activation (both a fight/flight and freeze/shut down response). There are so many layers and threads to one person’s story. Therefore, the work is very individual and complex. It is impossible to treat someone based on one theory or therapeutic approach. However, understanding the person’s gross trauma archetype and their neural baseline is a good foundation for understanding the core of the trauma narrative. When we know where that person’s journey began, we can start to connect to why they present the way they do in clinic and adopt an approach that addresses both neural miscalibration and the adaptations that have occurred across every layer of self.

See more on this in part b) Working with gross trauma archetypes