From Pathology to Purpose: Reframing Negative Patterns through a Trauma-Informed Lens
In the last several months I had the pleasure of meeting and engaging in meaningful conversations with individuals who I'll refer to as Jordan, Emma, and Alex. We crossed paths organically and briefly just going about our days, and through some attentive listening and genuine curiosity, our interactions quickly deepened into heartfelt discussions about personal challenges and resilience.
Across these conversations, several universally common themes emerged. Jordan spoke about his struggle with connecting with others and his difficulty seeing himself as a good person. Emma shared how challenging it is for her to ask for what she wants and how often she feels guilty for having needs, jokingly noting that she’s "allergic to asking for help." Alex, meanwhile, discussed his fear of being authentic and setting boundaries, as well as how his need to be perfect affects him both personally and professionally.
In these conversations I approached each person from a trauma-informed perspective, seeing them as whole, resilient individuals with rich inner lives. This approach shifts from a judgmental mindset of "What's wrong with you?" to a curious exploration of each person’s unique experience. I wasn’t labeling Jordan as having "low self-esteem” or Alex as a "perfectionist," nor was I focused on finding something that needed fixing or offering solutions.
But why not? They clearly faced patterns we (and they) would consider problematic. So, what's the issue with naming these patterns directly and trying to help them fix or overcome them? That’s the question I’ll be exploring here.
Understanding the Function of “Negative” Patterns
In medical science, when something goes wrong with our health, we refer to it as a pathology and seek ways to correct it in order to restore health. Psychology often follows a similar approach, labeling certain psychological patterns as pathological in an effort to improve mental well-being. However, while identifying and treating physical pathologies is clearly beneficial, applying the same framework to psychological patterns introduces complications. Often, we’re admonished to not pathologize people because it’s not kind to do so. But from a trauma-informed perspective, the problem isn’t merely about a lack of kindness; it’s about a fundamental misunderstanding of how these patterns develop and what their value is.
To address this misunderstanding, we must recognize that the patterns often labelled as negative aren’t purely harmful. Instead, their persistence suggests they serve a functional purpose for the individual. If a pattern didn’t fulfill some useful role, it wouldn’t have endured long enough to be recognized as problematic. Understanding the function of these patterns is crucial for making meaningful and lasting changes and for fostering greater compassion for ourselves and others.
To grasp this better, let’s delve into the psychology behind the formation of “bad patterns.” We start with the concept of the True Self—the core part of ourselves that seeks our genuine desires, finds joy in pursuing them, expresses emotions authentically, connects openly and vulnerably with others, and embraces natural expressions like laughing, crying, or making mistakes, all while displaying playfulness and curiosity.
Early Life Challenges and the Emergence of the False Self
Early in life, the True Self encounters challenges, particularly with primary caregivers who are crucial for our survival. If these caregivers are too busy, tired, or overwhelmed to meet our needs consistently, or if it’s no longer acceptable to express emotions freely, we face a life-or-death crisis in our attachment to them. Instead of blaming the caregivers, which feels threatening to our survival, we internalize the “badness,” adopting a core belief of “it’s not you, it’s me,” leading to a pervasive sense of not being okay.
In response, we develop strategies to get our needs met that aren’t aligned with the True Self’s straightforward desires. These strategies, which we might refer to as “parts” or collectively as the “false self,” emerge to preserve the attachment relationship with caregivers. This process, sometimes referred to as foreclosure, involves prioritizing attachment over the True Self’s desires.
Foreclosure occurs for all of us to varying degrees throughout childhood. As we refine these strategies, the True Self takes a backseat. We might learn that disconnecting from others or being quiet keeps us safe, that not asking for help keeps us from being vulnerable, that feeling like a failure lets us avoid actually failing, that overconfidence helps us get by, or that putting our needs aside ensures a smoother ride. Eventually, we identify with these strategies and describe ourselves in terms of them.
As adults, we encounter messages suggesting that true happiness lies in reconnecting with our True Self, and we’re naturally drawn to this idea because our True Self is eager to emerge. We may find various ways to indulge our True Self, which can feel like a return to authenticity--a sort of coming home.
Yet, while the True Self is out dancing, our strategic parts protest, saying, “Hold on, not so fast! Don’t you remember how this threatens our attachment relationship! I can’t let you do this.” This internal resistance might show up as general anxiety or as thoughts suggesting that we don’t deserve this or aren’t worthy of that, or that it’s not safe to express our needs, trust others, express authentically, or make mistakes. Our experience of joyous expansion can quickly turn into a stern contraction.
Despite this, the True Self continues to beckon, leading us to identify and repeatedly attempt to overcome these “pathological patterns” that are, in fact, protective. We might try to bolster the True Self by posting affirmation sticky notes, attending support groups, or engaging in somatic exercises that promote embodiment, and we may advise others to do the same as a way to “fix the problem.” But these attempts often fail because the so-called “problems” are viewed as external infections rather than useful strategies that were (unconsciously) developed within.
Why Pathologizing Fails
This is why pathologizing is problematic. It overlooks the protective roles of these “pathological patterns,” and without recognizing their roles, meaningful change becomes elusive. It’s not just a matter of pathologizing being unkind—it just simply doesn’t work for individuals with developmental trauma who would benefit more from realizing the value of their patterns.
To be trauma-informed, it is essential to avoid pathologizing and, more importantly, to understand why it’s essential. This shift in perspective transforms our view from seeing individuals like Jordan, Emma, and Alex burdened by their patterns to recognizing them as having developed brilliant adaptations to their challenges. Once they understand the purpose these patterns served, they can explore a broader range of options. While this approach alone doesn’t promise miraculous transformations, it’s a vital step toward greater freedom and internal flexibility.
Adopting a non-pathologizing perspective benefits not only Jordan, Emma, Alex, and anyone else who has been pathologized but also those who have engaged in pathologizing behavior, whether with or without supportive intentions. It’s so easy to think “What’s wrong with them?!” and wish they would just extinguish these “detrimental” patterns. Such thoughts foster frustration and a desire to “fix” the person or cheer on their True Self with advice or toxic positivity. But by shifting into a genuinely curious stance about how these patterns emerged and how they are currently helpful, we cultivate immense compassion and enhance our capacity for deeper connection with others.
If you’re interested in learning more about foreclosure, a non-pathologizing approach, and developing trauma-informed relational skills to improve your personal or professional relationships, or if you’re curious what might have been the beneficial purpose of Jordan’s, Emma’s, and Alex’s patterns, check out my Trauma-informed Care course, where we explore these concepts both academically and experientially and practice skills with one another instead of just discussing them abstractly.
Author
Dr. Mark Olson holds an M.A. in Education and a Ph.D. in Neuroscience from the University of Illinois, specializing in Cognitive and Behavioral Neuropsychology and Neuroanatomy. His research focused on memory, attention, eye movements, and aesthetic preferences. Dr. Olson is also a NARM¨ practitioner, aquatic therapist, and published author on chronic pain and trauma-informed care. He offers a variety of courses at Dr-Olson.com that provide neuroscientific insights into the human experience and relational skill training for professionals and curious laypersons.