When Behaviour Isn’t the Problem: Trauma, Triggers and the Human Side of Council Life
A car missed a junction and we collided. The impact jolted through me. My ribs were bruised, laughing hurt, and I could feel every breath. But what struck me most wasn’t the crash itself. It was what happened after.
People stood by taking photos. No one came to help. That moment stayed with me. It reminded me that trauma isn’t only about what happens to you; it’s about what happens around you. The body can recover from a physical shock. The nervous system takes longer when it feels alone.
In councils, we often see difficult behaviour and label it as personality. But what if some of what we see is the ripple of unresolved trauma? What if behind the control, the silence, or the conflict, there’s a nervous system trying to feel safe?
What trauma really is
Trauma isn’t the event. It’s the body and brain’s response when something feels too much, too fast, or too long, and there isn’t enough support to come back to safety.
For many people, trauma sits quietly. It can come from childhood, loss, or even the constant exposure to conflict and criticism that some council staff and councillors face. When safety is uncertain, the nervous system stays alert. It’s trying to protect us, even when we’re sitting in a meeting.
When that state becomes normal, small triggers, a raised voice, a dismissive comment, or a last-minute agenda change, can push people into survival mode. It’s not logic running the show then; it’s the body’s defence system.
The nervous system at work
Polyvagal theory helps us understand this. It explains how the vagus nerve runs between the brain and body, scanning for cues of safety or threat. Depending on what it senses, we shift between three main states: fight, flight, and freeze. There’s also a fourth, fawn, where we appease to stay safe.
Fight looks like control, defensiveness, or confrontation. The councillor who dominates every discussion might not be power-hungry; they might be trying to stop chaos before it starts.
Flight looks like avoidance. The chair or clerk who avoids conflict or withdraws from decision-making may be protecting themselves from overwhelm.
Freeze looks like silence or shutdown. You see it in meetings where people stop contributing and just get through it.
Fawn looks like over-pleasing. The officer who constantly smooths things over may be trying to prevent tension, even at their own expense.
These responses are biological. They’re not chosen. They’re the nervous system’s way of keeping us alive. In a council setting, they can easily be mistaken for stubbornness, apathy, or lack of professionalism.
How trauma shows up in councils
I’ve seen it many times. Councillors who micromanage every task. Clerks who over-control communication to avoid mistakes. Teams who stop talking altogether because meetings feel unsafe.
When people feel unsafe, they tighten control. They over-analyse, second-guess, and criticise. The culture becomes defensive rather than creative. You can feel it in the air, a room full of people who care deeply but don’t feel safe enough to relax.
This is how trauma echoes through systems. One person’s threat response activates another’s. The more reactive we become, the harder it is to connect. We lose curiosity. We lose compassion. The council becomes a nervous system in its own right, constantly scanning for danger.
Yet the same biology that causes reactivity can also create connection. When one person stays calm, uses warmth, humour, or empathy, it signals safety to everyone else’s nervous system. That’s when things start to shift.
Creating safety
Safety in councils isn’t about bubble-wrapping difficult conversations. It’s about creating conditions where people’s nervous systems can settle.
Safety sounds like:
predictable processes and clear communication
calm voices even when there’s disagreement
laughter that releases tension
leaders who notice when someone is shutting down and pause, rather than push
colleagues who check in with “Are you okay?” before reacting to behaviour
When people feel safe, they can think clearly again. They can collaborate, problem-solve, and take accountability. It’s not just a nice idea; it’s a productivity tool. Calm systems make better decisions.
A collective nervous system
Councils deal with huge responsibility, limited resources, and public scrutiny. Add human histories, personality differences, and stress, and you have a perfect storm for reactivity.
The work of becoming trauma-informed isn’t about therapy. It’s about awareness. It’s about recognising that behind every behaviour is a nervous system doing its best to cope.
You can’t see trauma on a spreadsheet. You see it in tone, posture, and patterns. You see it when someone never delegates. When another stops speaking up. When conflict becomes circular.
The invitation is simple: pause before judgement. Ask what might be driving the behaviour underneath. Notice your own body too, tight shoulders, fast heartbeat, breath held. You’re part of the system. Regulation is contagious.
From collision to compassion
When my car was hit, I realised how powerful human connection is in healing. Trauma isn’t about the crash. It’s about standing there, hurt and alone, while others look away. A quick shout out to Clevedon Town Council who sent me flowers. THANK YOU!
In councils, the same truth applies. When we ignore pain, it deepens. When we bring curiosity and care, it softens.
We can’t remove every stress or disagreement from council life. But we can make it safer to be human in the process. We can notice the triggers, breathe through them, and choose compassion over reaction.
Because when we understand trauma, we respond to people differently. And that difference is what turns conflict into collaboration and councils into communities again.