Surviving Betrayal: Fight, Flight, Freeze, and Fawn

Understanding the Body’s Responses and Finding Hope in Christ

By Iris Lennox

When betrayal strikes—whether in the form of an affair, a broken trust, or a spiritual leader’s duplicity—it does not simply leave an emotional wound. It sends shockwaves through the entire body. The heart races. The stomach clenches. Sleep becomes fitful, if it comes at all. In those early moments of revelation, the body responds as if survival itself is at stake because, in a sense, it is. Betrayal is not just an event; it is an upheaval of one’s most fundamental sense of safety and belonging.

Understanding the Four Trauma Responses

At the core of the body’s alarm in the aftermath of betrayal lie the four classic trauma responses: fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. As Tim Fletcher, a leading voice on complex trauma, emphasizes, these responses are not choices; they are survival strategies encoded in the nervous system. When faced with the threat of abandonment, exposure, or deep emotional harm, the body reacts as if it is facing physical danger.

Over the past two decades teaching Public Speaking, I’ve witnessed how these trauma responses appear even in everyday fears. About two years into teaching, I began including a lecture on the four trauma responses, how they can lead to panic attacks, and how to navigate them—insights shaped by my own experiences and the work of Dr. David Carbonell, a clinical psychologist and expert on panic and anxiety.

Watching students freeze or panic while speaking in front of their peers, I was reminded that the body’s reaction to social discomfort mirrors the response it would have to a bear on a trail in the woods. The body does not distinguish between social exposure and physical threat; it mobilizes to protect, regardless of the context.

These four responses can be summarized in this way:

• Fight arises as anger, confrontation, or boundary-setting, driven by an instinct to reclaim power.

• Flight emerges as withdrawal, avoidance, or a frantic search for distraction, an attempt to outrun the pain.

• Freeze is marked by paralysis, emotional numbness, or a sense of being stuck, as the body shuts down to protect against overwhelm.

• Fawn appears as over-accommodation, appeasement, or self-erasure, a way of seeking safety through submission.

Tim Fletcher has observed that these responses often layer and shift over time, especially in the unique landscape of betrayal trauma. Unlike trauma caused by external events, betrayal trauma wounds us in the places we felt most secure: within intimacy, family, or spiritual community. This insight is echoed by Dr. David Carbonell’s work on panic and anxiety, which reminds us that the body’s alarms are not logical, but physiological. Whether facing a classroom of peers, a bear in the woods, or the raw reality of betrayal, the body’s response is the same: to protect at all costs.

Understanding this bridge between the psychology of panic and the biology of betrayal can bring a measure of compassion to those stuck in these cycles. It shows that the body’s reaction is not a sign of weakness, but of a deep, God-given instinct to survive. This instinct becomes the starting point for the next part of healing: understanding how betrayal trauma lives in the body, long after the moment of discovery.

The Physiology of Betrayal Trauma

Bessel van der Kolk, in The Body Keeps the Score, writes that trauma is stored not just in memory, but in the cells of the body. When betrayal trauma strikes, the autonomic nervous system—our body’s internal alarm—can remain activated for months or years. This chronic hypervigilance makes it hard to rest or trust, even in safe moments.

Judith Herman, in her landmark work Trauma and Recovery, notes that betrayal trauma can be especially destabilizing because it undermines the foundation of trust itself. In a relationship, trust is the container for vulnerability. When it is broken, the nervous system registers not just a threat to the relationship, but a threat to survival. The trauma responses that emerge are an echo of the body’s ancient wisdom: protect at all costs.

In the immediate aftermath of betrayal, the body’s sense of threat is unmistakable. But this alarm does not simply vanish once the truth is known. It can set in motion a cascade of survival strategies that shape every breath and thought in the days, weeks, and even years to come.

Understanding how these physiological alarms translate into everyday behaviors can offer practical insight and compassion for the healing journey.

From www.nicabm.com

How Trauma Responses Show Up After Betrayal

These trauma responses are not abstract concepts confined to the pages of academic texts. They are the lived reality of every moment in the aftermath of betrayal. They echo in how you move through the world, how you speak, and how you reach for safety. They shape your interactions, your thoughts, and even the way you breathe. Each one—fight, flight, freeze, and fawn—is the body’s God-given primal attempt to create a sense of safety in a world that has suddenly become unpredictable. They do not follow a linear path; they often overlap and cycle, revealing the complexity of the body’s instinctive wisdom in the face of deep relational harm.

• Fight can emerge in the early aftermath of betrayal as a strong desire for answers, accountability, or protection. For the one who was betrayed, this instinct may show up as asking hard questions, confronting the betrayer, or setting boundaries that restore dignity. It can also include efforts to confront the betrayal in constructive ways, rather than resorting to reactive outbursts or aggression.

  For the one who had the affair, fight may appear as defensiveness or an instinct to control the narrative, driven by fear of exposure or loss. It could also look like a fight to keep the affair partner or maintain a double life. While this specific difference between the betrayed and the betrayer is not typically spelled out in academic studies, it aligns with what clinicians and trauma-informed professionals observe: the fight response is not simply aggression but a survival-based attempt to restore safety or control.

  Bessel van der Kolk writes that when the nervous system senses threat, “the body’s natural response is to mobilize and confront.” Whether driven by a betrayed partner’s need for honesty and boundaries or a betrayer’s fear of being exposed, this mobilization is the body’s instinct to protect at all costs.

  Yet while this response can help restore a sense of agency, it can also become consuming if it hardens into cycles of blame, bitterness, or self-justification. Recognizing the difference between a protective response—setting healthy boundaries, speaking the truth with integrity, and seeking fairness—and a reactive pattern—getting stuck in loops of reactivity that no longer serve healing—is a key part of recovery. This discernment is especially important for those who have taken the time to reflect and process betrayal, ensuring that their responses come from a place of compassion and not from survival-based reactivity alone.

• Flight is often less visible but no less powerful. Pete Walker describes flight as a “compulsive need to stay busy, avoid the discomfort of feeling.” After betrayal, this can mean disappearing from social circles that remind you of the past, or throwing yourself into work, hobbies, or even new relationships as a way to outrun the ache.
  

  Flight can also show up as geographical distance—moving to a new city or avoiding places that hold painful memories. It can feel like relief in the short term: if you stay in motion, you don’t have to feel. But as trauma researcher Janina Fisher notes, “the nervous system’s panic doesn’t go away when you change your environment; it travels with you, until it is met and soothed.”
  In flight, the betrayal remains alive in the background—unspoken, ungrieved, and waiting for a pause that will bring it crashing back into awareness.

• Freeze is the body’s last line of defense when fight or flight feel impossible. Judith Herman writes that in the aftermath of betrayal, “the mind may simply shut down,” unable to reconcile the dissonance between what was believed and what is now known.
  

  In real life, freeze can look like profound emotional numbness—a sense that you’re watching your life from outside yourself. Decisions feel impossible. Basic tasks like eating or showering can feel insurmountable.
  This is not laziness or weakness—it is the nervous system’s way of protecting you from overwhelm. Tim Fletcher observes that in betrayal trauma, freeze can be especially pronounced because the threat comes from someone once trusted: the mind wants to run, but the heart still craves connection, creating an unbearable stalemate.

  For some, freeze can last weeks or months; for others, it becomes a chronic state of emotional disconnection that only gentle, body-centered healing can begin to thaw.

• The fawn response—coined by Pete Walker—is often the most misunderstood. It involves over-accommodation, appeasement, and self-erasure in the hope of restoring safety. After betrayal, fawn can look like taking responsibility for the betrayer’s actions (“If I hadn’t been so distant, maybe this wouldn’t have happened”), or trying to “win them back” by becoming the perfect partner or friend.
  

  Fawn is not naivety; it is a survival strategy rooted in the deep fear of abandonment. As Gabor Maté writes, “the child within us will sacrifice authenticity for attachment,” and this can continue into adulthood, especially in the wake of intimate betrayal.
  

  In fawn, there may be an almost compulsive need to smooth over conflict, to keep the peace at all costs, even if it means losing oneself. Healing requires learning to reclaim boundaries and recognizing that love built on self-erasure is not safety, but captivity.

The Pathway to Healing: Rebuilding Safety and Trust

Experts like Pete Walker, Janina Fisher, and Judith Herman emphasize that healing from betrayal trauma requires re-regulating the nervous system and restoring a sense of agency. While insight and understanding are important, they are not enough on their own. Healing also requires practical steps that help the body and mind find safety again.

• Grounded Somatic Work
  Somatic work focuses on helping the nervous system come back into balance after the shock of betrayal. This can include practices like diaphragmatic breathing, progressive muscle relaxation, or simple grounding exercises (such as feeling your feet on the floor, or naming five things you can see in the room). These small, practical exercises help interrupt cycles of panic and restore a sense of control.
  

  Dr. Stephen Porges, the originator of Polyvagal Theory, underscores the importance of these body-based practices: “When we learn to regulate our own physiology, we create a foundation for healing emotional wounds.”
  Trauma-informed movement, like slow walking, stretching, or even gardening, can also be powerful tools. The key is to choose practices that are gentle and accessible, avoiding anything that feels overwhelming or forced.

• Narrative Integration and Structured Reflection
  Telling the story of what happened is a crucial part of healing, but it must be done in safe and structured ways. Therapy, especially with a trauma-informed counselor, can offer a guided space to untangle the confusion and shame that often accompany betrayal.
  

  Writing can also be a powerful tool. Dr. James Pennebaker’s research on expressive writing shows that even 15 minutes of focused writing about the betrayal can reduce emotional distress and increase clarity.
  For some, this process might also include reading trusted resources on betrayal trauma or carefully exploring the stories of others who have healed. Each layer of narrative work helps the mind and body integrate the truth of what happened, rather than remain stuck in cycles of rumination.

• Relational Safety and Restoring Connection
  After betrayal, the nervous system often becomes hypervigilant around others, unsure of whom to trust. Rebuilding relational safety can begin with small circles of trusted people—friends, family, or peer support groups—who offer consistent care and understanding.
  

  Dr. Judith Herman writes that “recovery can take place only within the context of relationships; it cannot occur in isolation.” This might look like joining a betrayal trauma support group, working with a therapist who understands attachment wounds, or reconnecting with long-standing friends who respect the boundaries and truth of your experience.
  Over time, these safe connections help retrain the body’s alarm system, offering a lived experience that not everyone will abandon or harm you.

• Anchoring in Truth and Personal Integrity
  Tim Fletcher stresses that betrayal trauma healing must also involve truth-telling—not necessarily to the betrayer, but to oneself and to safe, trusted others. In his words, “The truth is what sets you free—not necessarily reconciliation, but the ability to look at what happened with honest eyes.”
  

  This means allowing yourself to name what was done, how it hurt, and how it altered your sense of self. It might also include setting boundaries with those who minimize or dismiss your experience.
  Truth-telling is not about dwelling in the past; it is about restoring your own sense of clarity and agency. When you can stand in your truth, without distortion, without apology, you create a foundation for real healing.

The Rhythm of Survival and Hope

The journey of healing from betrayal trauma is not a straight line. There will be days when fight is all you can summon, and others when freeze or flight take over again. Yet within these cycles, there is a quiet, enduring truth: these responses are not signs of weakness. They are signs that the body has not given up and it still reaches for safety, for dignity, and for peace.

As you navigate this healing journey, remember you do not walk alone. For those navigating the disorientation of betrayal trauma, these verses offer points of meditation and an anchor for hope in Christ, who heals and redeems:

“Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.” — Hebrews 10:23
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18
“He will redeem my soul in peace from the battle that is against me.” — Psalm 55:18

These words remind us that even within the cycle of fight, flight, freeze, and fawn, there is room for more than just survival. The hope we hold onto is not of our own making—it is the promise of a faithful God who heals and restores. His peace is near to the brokenhearted, offering calm in the midst of turmoil. And his redemption does not leave us in pieces; he gathers what was harmed and brings it to wholeness. In him, healing is not a distant possibility, but a faithful promise.

Footnotes / References:

1. Bessel van der Kolk. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Penguin Books.

2. Herman, J. (1992). Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence—From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. Basic Books.

3. Tim Fletcher, complex trauma educator, Finding Freedom.

4. Carbonell, D. (2020). The Panic Attack Workbook: A Guided Program for Beating the Panic Trick. Ulysses Press.

5. Walker, P. (2013). Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving. Azure Coyote Books.

6. Fisher, J. (2017). Healing the Fragmented Selves of Trauma Survivors: Overcoming Internal Self-Alienation. Routledge.

7. Porges, S. W. (2011). The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological Foundations of Emotions, Attachment, Communication, and Self-Regulation. W. W. Norton & Company.

8. Lipsky, L. van D. (2009). Trauma Stewardship: An Everyday Guide to Caring for Self While Caring for Others. Berrett-Koehler Publishers.

9. Pennebaker, J. W. (1997). Opening Up: The Healing Power of Expressing Emotions. Guilford Press.

10. Maté, G. (2011). When the Body Says No: Understanding the Stress-Disease Connection. Vintage Canada.
    
    Disclaimer:
    I am not a licensed therapist, counselor, or medical professional. The content of this essay is based on research, expert insights, and my own reflections and experiences. It is not intended as a substitute for professional advice, diagnosis, or treatment. If you are experiencing severe emotional distress or trauma symptoms, I encourage you to seek help from a qualified professional.