The Freeze Response: The Most Overlooked Trauma Response

By Erica Hartmus, MA

You’ve probably heard of the fight and flight trauma responses. You might even be familiar with fawn, if your algorithm knows you’ve been in therapy. But what about freeze? Freeze, the fourth (and final, if we don’t count the newly coined flop) trauma response, doesn’t get the same attention, but shows up more often than we’d think. Freeze is an especially common response in folks who’ve experienced ongoing or relational trauma.

So why don’t we hear more about freeze? As opposed to fight, flight, or fawn, freeze is relatively unnoticeable. It’s quiet, doesn’t make a scene, and can be invisible for those who don’t know what to look for. Because of that, freeze is often misunderstood, overlooked, and can cause deep feelings of shame in those who experience it.

Here’s the truth: for many trauma survivors—especially those who experienced chronic, relational, or developmental trauma—freeze isn’t just common. It’s fundamental to the way they’ve learned to protect themselves, and navigate the world around them.

What is the freeze response, really?

At its core, freeze is the nervous system’s emergency brake. When our brains perceive a threat, the autonomic nervous system springs into action. If fighting is possible, we fight. If we can escape, we flee. If appeasing might increase safety, we fawn. But if none of those options seem viable, the body goes into freeze.

This is not a conscious decision, freeze is reflexive and automatic. It’s what happens when your system says, “I’m in danger—I can’t run, I can’t fight, and I can’t submit. So I’ll hide.”

Freeze can look, or feel, like:

• Dissociation—feeling detached from your body or the world around you

• Emotional numbness or apathy, a monotonous affect

• A sudden inability to speak or move

• Feeling mentally foggy, confused, or “checked out”

• Decision making paralysis (extreme difficulty or inability to make a choice, no matter how small)

• Shutting down under pressure or during conflict

Something that’s worth noting is that freeze is not the absence of a response. It is a response, and a highly intelligent one at that. Freeze has kept many people safe—psychologically, emotionally, and even physically.

The Roots of Freeze

I like to talk to my clients about our defense mechanisms in “caveman” terms. On an evolutionary level, freeze might have been what a caveman utilized when faced with a large, dangerous animal. Instead of attempting to run away (which would draw attention), or fight (and surely lose), freeze would’ve given our caveman self the best chance of remaining unseen, and therefore, safe. If we relate that back to our present day, evolved selves, freeze would therefore be a protective measure against several different threats to our well-being that could not be ran from, fought against, or de-escalated.

Freeze therefore is especially common in people who’ve lived through trauma that was inescapable. Examples might include:

• Childhood trauma, especially in environments where emotional expression was dangerous or ignored

• Ongoing abuse or neglect

• Coercive or manipulative relationships

• Experiences of systemic oppression where there are no safe options for response

• Medical trauma or being in environments where agency was stripped away

In these situations, freezing became adaptive, and helped you survive. When there was no clear “way out,” your body chose stillness, dissociation, or collapse as a way to endure.

The downside to all trauma responses, however, is that what was once protective can become persistent. The freeze response can get stuck, and be our “go-to”, even when not particularly relevant or useful. Many people carry it into adulthood, where it begins to interfere with daily life and relationships.

Why Freeze is Misunderstood

Freeze is not dramatic, and it doesn’t come with warning signs, like shouting, running, or overexplaining. It can look like “nothing”, which can be as confusing to people witnessing it as to the people experiencing it. This leads to people internalizing it as a personal failure. 

Someone who is prone to freezing may ask themselves:

• “Why can’t I just make a decision?”

• “Why do I shut down during conversations that matter?”

• “Why do I feel so numb all the time?”

• “Why can’t I just do the things I say I want to do?

The answer often isn’t a mindset problem or a lack of willpower—it’s a nervous system still caught in an old survival pattern.

What Healing Freeze Looks Like

Healing from freeze isn’t about “snapping out of it.” It’s about slowly, gently reintroducing a sense of safety to the body.

Here’s where we begin if you want to freeze less, and react more:

Awareness and Compassion: Naming the freeze response for what it is, without shame or judgement. Learning to accept and be grateful for our body’s attempts to protect us can help us remove the obstacles that keep us stuck.

Regulation: Practicing slow, body-based mindfulness tools that help you return to the present (think breathwork, gentle movement, grounding techniques, co-regulation with safe people).

Agency: Rebuilding a felt sense of choice. Taking any opportunity to say no, or yes, when it feels doable, can help you practice being an agent of personal change. Often in freeze, choice feels unavailable. Part of healing is learning, moment by moment, that you have options.

Support: Working with a trauma-informed therapist or somatic practitioner who can walk with you as you grow and push yourself—someone who won’t rush you, pathologize you, and will validate your experience as you move forward.

In Conclusion…

If freeze is your go-to response, you are not broken, or lazy, “too sensitive” or “too much”. You are simply someone whose nervous system learned to survive the best way it knew how. 

You don’t need to force your way out of freeze. You need to be met where you are, because that is where all healing begins.

• So ya, I just don’t know how I’m going to decide. I’m so afraid of messing up, and making the wrong choice… I know the pros and cons, I know that I could be happy either way, but what if I regret my decision later on?

• But what if my “sister ship” is happier than I am, sailing on my ship? What if her ship is way cooler than mine, and she’s having so much more fun?

• But… I’m so afraid I’ll miss out on that other life, on that other ship. What if that version of me isn’t one I can get back? What if i’m jealous of who I could’ve been?

*Nods thoughtfully*