When ‘trauma‑informed’ Becomes A Catch Phrase
I recently saw a post promoting a retreat with the intention to nurture and support those who are grieving. On the surface, the language felt caring. Words like trauma‑informed, safe, nurturing were used generously. And yet, something in me paused.
I found myself questioning how loosely and how often these words are now being used.
Much like other wellness trends and catch phrases, trauma‑informed is at risk of becoming a label rather than a lived, embodied practice. Even when intentions are good, language can quietly imply: this is the right way to grieve, this is how healing should look, this is where you should go to process what you’re carrying.
It reminded me of what I see happening in other spaces too.
When the Outside Look Replaces the Inner Reality
Take the example of what I sometimes think of as the “autism Barbie” narrative, the external portrayal that suggests:
to be autistic, you use these tools, these aids, these supports. Headphones. iPads. Sensory toys. Visual schedules.
I know only too well how much funding has gone into sensory aids that didn’t actually serve the individual they were intended for. Supports that weren’t tailored. Tools that looked right from the outside, but didn’t meet the person where they truly were.
It becomes: you are autistic, therefore here are your aids.
So now, when I see a girl with an iPad and headphones, am I meant to assume she is autistic?
This is the danger of broad‑brush approaches. They flatten individuality. They replace curiosity with assumptions.
And I see the same thing happening in grief and wellness spaces.
Grief Is Not a Group Experience
Grief has stages. But more importantly, grief has timing.
Each person arrives carrying their own history, their own trauma, their own deeply ingrained beliefs and protective patterns. No two nervous systems respond the same way. No two bodies process loss in the same rhythm.
Yet retreats particularly those centred on grief, can unintentionally create the message that healing happens collectively, outwardly, and often through emotional release in front of strangers.
But what happens when someone’s system is not ready?
What happens when frequency work, energy work, sound bowls, breathwork or group practices activate shock, rage, anger, sadness or despair that the person has no internal resources to hold?
What happens when the nervous system is agitated rather than supported?
That is not trauma‑informed.
Self‑Care Has Been Sanitised
Somehow, self‑care has come to mean day spas, herbal teas, sound baths and gentle aesthetics.
And while these can be supportive at certain times, they are not neutral experiences.
Sound, vibration, energy and frequency work can open layers within the body. For someone without grounding, without containment, without integration support, this can spiral rather than soothe.
Grief doesn’t always want to be released.
Sometimes it needs to be witnessed. Sometimes it needs to be felt slowly. Sometimes it needs space, privacy, consistency and time.
And sometimes, going away to process it away from familiar supports can actually be destabilising.
When Healing Becomes an Expectation
There is another quiet harm that can arise in retreat culture: expectation.
Expectation that something will shift.
Expectation that you will move on.
Expectation that if you don’t feel better afterwards, you have somehow failed.
As if not being ready is a personal shortcoming.
As if staying with grief rather than transforming it means you are doing healing wrong.
This can deepen shame. It can reinforce the belief of not being good enough. It can add another layer of disappointment to an already tender experience.
What Trauma‑Informed Actually Asks
True trauma‑informed care is not about the tools. It’s not about the setting. And it’s not about the language used in marketing.
It asks different questions:
Do you know the individual in front of you?
Do you understand their triggers?
Do you know where they are resourced and where they are not?
What supports do they have after the session ends?
Is there integration, not just activation?
Is safety defined by insurance policies and checklists or by the nervous system of the person receiving care?
Whole‑body safety matters. What is happening in their life right now matters. And whether stepping away to “heal” may actually cause regression matters.
A Gentle Pause
I am not saying retreats offer nothing. Nor am I saying these tools are never beneficial.
At the right time, with the right supports, and for the right person, they can be deeply meaningful.
But sadness does not always need fixing. Grief does not need purging. And healing does not need an audience.
Sometimes, being held one‑to‑one—functionally, intentionally, safely, is what truly supports the nervous system to soften in its own time.
So before signing up for the next retreat, I invite a pause.
Ask about safety. Ask about integration. Ask who supports you if something opens unexpectedly. Ask whether the space adapts to you, rather than asking you to adapt to the space.
Because trauma‑informed care is not a trend. It is a responsibility.
And grief deserves nothing less than being met as it is when it is ready by someone willing to see the whole body, not just the behaviour or the story.
If this reflection felt like a soft landing, you may wish to continue with “Giving myself compassion for feeling nothing”.
And should you feel ready, I hold initial consultations as a place to be supported in your whole body honouring your grief, your needs, and your healing in their own time.
