You Don’t Have to Force Yourself Into the Big Room

One of the most common things people are told in therapy is: “Ground yourself in the present moment.” And while that advice can be helpful sometimes, for many people, especially trauma survivors, it can feel confusing, frustrating, or even harmful.

If you’ve ever thought:

“Why would I want to be fully present when everything feels unsafe?”
“Being in the moment just makes the pain louder.”
“I know how to ground — I just don’t want to be here.”

There is nothing wrong with you.

The Big Room and the Closet

Here’s an analogy I often use.

Imagine your life as a house.

The big room is the present moment: your body, your thoughts, your feelings, what’s happening right now.
The closet is where you go when things become too much: planning for the future, remembering the past, distracting yourself, daydreaming, imagining, scrolling, reading, or even gently dissociating.

For many people who have lived through trauma, the big room hasn’t been safe for a long time.

It held:

fear
grief
threat
instability
pain without relief

So you adapted. You stepped into the closet. Not because you were avoiding life, but because your nervous system was protecting you.

That matters.

Why “Just Be Present” Can Backfire

When someone is still under threat emotionally, relationally, financially, or physically, asking them to fully inhabit the present moment can actually increase distress.

Grounding yourself in a moment that feels dangerous doesn’t magically make it safe. Sometimes it does the opposite: it amplifies fear.

This is why many trauma survivors say grounding “doesn’t work,” not because they’re doing it wrong, but because the timing is wrong.

Being Adjacent to the Present

Healing doesn’t require forcing yourself back into the big room. Instead, it often looks like being adjacent to the present.

That means:

peeking out when it feels tolerable
stepping back when it doesn’t
letting yourself rest near reality rather than fully inside it

Things like imagination, creativity, tarot, stories, future planning, gentle escapism, or humour aren’t failures of therapy. In the right doses, they are bridges back to safety.

You’re not abandoning the present. You’re approaching it slowly.

Humility Helps the Nervous System

There’s a quiet kind of regulation that comes from humility, from saying:

“I don’t need to understand everything right now.”

You don’t need to solve your whole life.
You don’t need certainty.
You don’t need to be perfectly present.

Letting go of those demands often calms the nervous system more than any technique.

Safety Is Learned Through Repetition, Not Force

Eventually, as safety becomes more consistent, not perfect, just reliable, something shifts.

You might notice:

moments of ease
stretches of calm
enjoyment without waiting for punishment

Over time, your system learns:

“The big room isn’t what it used to be.”

And one day, without forcing it, you find yourself spending more time there.

That’s how healing actually happens.

How I Work With This in Therapy

In my practice, we don’t rush people into presence.

We work with:

choice
pacing
consent
curiosity

We pay attention to what your nervous system needs now, not what it should be able to tolerate.

Sometimes grounding means breathing into your body.
Sometimes it means imagining a future that feels safer.
Sometimes it means stepping back, and that’s okay.

You don’t heal by dragging yourself into the big room.
You heal by letting yourself enter when your system says yes.

References & Influences

Bessel van der Kolk — The Body Keeps the Score
Peter Levine — Somatic Experiencing
Janina Fisher — Trauma-Informed Stabilisation
Stephen Porges — Polyvagal Theory
Pat Ogden — Sensorimotor Psychotherapy

(These ideas are also shaped by lived experience and years of clinical practice.)