For many adults who grew up with abuse, neglect, or other painful experiences, the past doesn’t always stay in the past. Even when you think you’ve buried those memories away, they can resurface suddenly — sometimes as fragments, sometimes as overwhelming feelings that don’t seem to match what’s happening around you. Those memories and emotions can be so powerful that they disrupt your sense of reality altogether. This is where the connection between trauma and psychosis can appear, leaving you feeling frightened and unsure of what’s happening.
That word can sound heavy, even stigmatising, but it’s really just a way of describing an experience where your usual sense of the world is shaken. You might hear voices after trauma, feel things others don’t, or believe something with absolute certainty that others insist isn’t true. If this has ever happened to you in connection with childhood trauma and psychosis, it doesn’t mean you’re “mad” It means your nervous system has been pushed beyond its limits, and it’s reacting in a way that makes sense given what you’ve been through.
Research consistently shows that childhood trauma is one of the strongest predictors of psychosis in adulthood. Large reviews have found that people who experienced abuse or neglect as children are around three times more likely to develop trauma-related psychosis later on (Varese et al., 2012; Trotta, Murray & Fisher, 2015). Scientists believe this happens because early trauma can change how the stress response develops in the brain and body (Read, Fosse, Moskowitz & Perry, 2014). Instead of calming down after danger has passed, the body remains on high alert. Later in life, even fairly ordinary stresses can feel unbearable — and, for some, that pressure shows up as psychotic experiences.
For survivors, it can feel confusing to wonder: is this a flashback, or is it psychosis? In truth, the two can overlap. Traumatic flashbacks often return in fragments — a sound, a smell, an image, a surge of terror in the body. When these fragments are intense, they can blur into experiences that feel hallucinatory. Research has suggested that trauma-related hallucinations often draw directly on earlier experiences, rather than being random or meaningless (Hardy, 2017). Knowing this can be deeply reassuring: what you are experiencing is not “madness”, but your mind’s way of coping with events that were once unbearable.
Sometimes I describe it to clients like this: imagine your brain is a smoke alarm. For most people, the alarm only goes off when there’s real smoke. But if you’ve lived through repeated fires in childhood, your alarm system becomes hypersensitive. It might ring loudly at the faintest whiff of toast. Psychosis after trauma can feel like that: your nervous system detecting danger where there isn’t any, because it learned long ago that danger could arrive at any moment.
Ways of Making Sense and Finding Safety
When therapy is trauma-informed, it doesn’t rush to drag you back into your worst memories. Instead, it begins by helping you feel safe, both in yourself and in the therapeutic relationship. That safety becomes the ground from which you can gently explore what’s happening without becoming overwhelmed.
One of the first steps is often psychoeducation — learning how trauma affects the brain and body. When you realise that a racing heart, a sudden shift in perception, or a voice linked to past abuse are not signs of “losing it”, but understandable nervous system responses, things start to feel less frightening. Research has shown that psychoeducation can reduce shame and increase a sense of control for people living with trauma symptoms (Donker et al., 2009). Many clients have told me that just having an explanation — something that makes sense of the chaos — already gives them a sense of relief.
Another important part of the work is mindfulness and grounding for psychosis and trauma. These are practical tools to bring you back into the present when the past barges in. Studies have found that mindfulness practices can help reduce both post-traumatic stress and psychotic experiences, likely by calming overactive stress pathways in the brain (Chadwick et al., 2016). This doesn’t mean “clearing your mind” — it means gently returning your attention to your breath, your senses, or your body, reminding yourself that you are safe right now.
Clients often find it helpful to have very concrete grounding exercises. For instance, when you feel yourself slipping away, you might try naming five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. Or you might carry a smooth stone in your pocket, pressing your thumb into it when the past threatens to pull you under. These small, physical anchors can make a surprising difference if you’re experiencing psychosis linked to trauma.
Somatic therapy for trauma and psychosis — listening to the body — is another key approach. Trauma isn’t only stored in memory; it’s carried in muscles, breath, posture, and the way we brace against the world. By slowing down and noticing what your body is doing, you can begin to release some of the tension that keeps trauma alive in the present. Research on body-based therapies supports their role in reducing trauma symptoms and increasing a sense of safety (Van der Kolk, 2015). In my work, this can sometimes include gentle exposure to certain sensations or memories, but always at your pace, never forced. For example, we might notice together how your chest tightens when you talk about a memory, and practise softening the breath until that tightness eases.
When a memory is particularly strong and continues to intrude, I sometimes use the rewind technique for trauma. Clients are often amazed at how effective this can be. The technique has been studied in recent years and found to significantly reduce trauma symptoms for many people, even when other approaches have not helped (Muss, 1991; Gray & Liotta, 2012). The beauty of the Rewind is that you don’t need to go into detail about the trauma. Instead, it allows your mind to reprocess the memory safely, so it loses its sting and no longer hijacks your nervous system. I’ve often seen clients describe it as though a fog has lifted, or as if the memory has finally been filed away in the past where it belongs.
None of this work is about forcing change. It’s about creating the right conditions for your mind and body to heal. Trauma therapy for psychosis isn’t linear. Some days you may feel you’ve moved forward; other days you may feel pulled back into old pain. Both are part of the process. What matters is compassion, patience, and knowing that every step you take towards understanding and grounding is meaningful.
Moving From Survival Towards Living
The shadow of abuse and neglect can plant cruel beliefs: that you are damaged, that you are too much, that you will never truly recover. Add in the experience of psychosis, and those beliefs can feel even heavier. Yet both research and lived experience tell us otherwise. Recovery is possible — not necessarily in the sense of wiping away every symptom, but in reclaiming your sense of choice, stability, connection, and hope.
Recovery doesn’t mean pretending the past never happened. It means finding ways to live without being crushed by it. It means building a life where joy, connection, and meaning have space alongside the scars. Over time, what once felt like unbearable flashbacks or intrusive voices can become softer, less frightening, and less frequent. With support, you can learn to trust yourself again — your body, your perceptions, and your right to safety.
Everyday life can slowly become lighter. It might be as simple as being able to walk into a supermarket without feeling overwhelmed, to enjoy a conversation without the past intruding, or to notice the warmth of a friend’s presence without immediately doubting it – these are signs of recovery.
You may not always see your own resilience, but I see it in every survivor who walks into the therapy room. The very fact that you are here, seeking to understand and to heal, shows a strength the past never managed to erase.
Your story is still unfolding. You are more than what was done to you. You are more than your symptoms. With time, compassion, and the right support, the past can loosen its grip. You can move from merely surviving into truly living.
References (for interested readers)
- Varese, F. et al. (2012). Childhood adversities increase the risk of psychosis: A meta-analysis. Schizophrenia Bulletin.
- Trotta, A., Murray, R., & Fisher, H. (2015). The impact of childhood adversity on the persistence of psychotic symptoms. Social Psychiatry and Psychiatric Epidemiology.
- Read, J., Fosse, R., Moskowitz, A., & Perry, B. (2014). The traumagenic neurodevelopmental model of psychosis revisited. Neuropsychiatry.
- Hardy, A. (2017). Pathways from trauma to psychotic experiences: A theoretically informed model. Frontiers in Psychology.
- Donker, T. et al. (2009). Psychoeducation for depression, anxiety and psychological distress: A meta-analysis. BMC Medicine.
- Chadwick, P. et al. (2016). Mindfulness groups for distressing voices and paranoia: A replication and randomised feasibility trial. Schizophrenia Research.
- Van der Kolk, B. (2015). The Body Keeps the Score. Penguin.
- Muss, D. (1991). A new technique for treating post-traumatic stress disorder. British Journal of Clinical Psychology.
- Gray, R. & Liotta, R. (2012). PTSD and the Rewind Technique: A new trauma-focused therapy. Journal of EMDR Practice and Research.
