Making Room to Be Present: An Introduction to Trauma-Sensitive Yoga

Think about how much of your day you spend in your head.

Planning what needs to happen next. Replaying a conversation. Thinking about work while you're at home. Checking your phone while you're eating. Worrying about something that hasn't happened yet. Moving from one responsibility to another without really noticing how your body feels until it's exhausted, tense, restless, or asking you to stop.

For many of us, being present doesn't necessarily come naturally anymore.

And while I’m a therapist who deeply values what can happen through conversation, I also recognize that we experience our lives through more than our thoughts. Our bodies are part of the experience too.

Before We Had Words, We Had Movement

Before we could explain what we were experiencing, our bodies were already communicating.

Think about babies. We cried when we needed something. We reached or pointed toward what we wanted. We turned our heads away from things we didn't want. We smiled, laughed, kicked, crawled toward things that interested us, and reached for people who made us feel secure. And yes, we peed and pooped on ourselves because our bodies communicated needs long before we had the words, awareness, or ability to say, “Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.”

Our bodies were communicating before we knew how to explain ourselves, and learning language didn't make that communication system disappear.

As adults, our bodies are still giving us information. Our shoulders creep toward our ears. Our jaws tighten. Our stomachs turn. Our hearts race. We hold our breath. We become restless or exhausted. Sometimes we want to move, and sometimes we want to become completely still.

The body notices before we have the words for it. Our awareness is what makes the difference in whether we're aware of what our bodies are telling us.

This is part of why I value approaches that make room for more than talking. Movement gives us another opportunity to notice ourselves, become curious about what we're experiencing, and practice making choices in response to what our bodies are communicating. That movement doesn't have to mean an advanced yoga pose or an intense workout. It can be as subtle as noticing your breath, moving your hand, shifting your position, stretching, standing, or even choosing stillness.

The goal here isn't performing movement correctly. It's developing another way of being present with yourself.

When Your Body Has Learned to Stay Ready

This is especially important when we talk about trauma.

When we hear the word trauma, we often think about something identifiable that happened to us: abuse, violence, an accident, a significant loss, or another experience that overwhelmed our ability to cope. Trauma can absolutely look like that, but it can also be chronic, generational, environmental, and systemic. Sometimes the ways we have learned to protect ourselves didn't begin with us.

We can inherit patterns from families and communities that developed in response to what previous generations had to survive. Maybe you grew up learning that family business stays in the family, that you keep going regardless of how you feel, or that being “strong” means handling things on your own. Maybe you became skilled at reading someone's mood before deciding how to approach them, or learned that expressing certain emotions created more problems than keeping them to yourself. These patterns may have served a very real purpose at one point, even if we eventually find ourselves questioning whether they still serve us now.

Trauma can also be shaped by the systems and environments we have to navigate. As a Black woman, I think about this personally as much as I do professionally. There are things many of us learn to consider that can become so routine we barely recognize the amount of monitoring involved. Code-switching is a good example. You may change how you speak depending on the environment you're in, pay closer attention to your tone so you aren't perceived as “angry” or “aggressive,” think about how your hair or clothing will be received, or feel pressure to work harder because you know assumptions may already exist about your competence. You may walk into a room and immediately notice who else looks like you, think twice about whether it's worth correcting someone, or consider how advocating for yourself could be perceived before deciding whether to speak.

And this isn't limited to race. Poverty and financial instability, sexism, ableism, homophobia and transphobia, immigration experiences, community violence, religious environments, family dynamics, and other social conditions can all influence what people learn about safety, belonging, power, and what they need to do to navigate the world. Not every difficult or discriminatory experience is inherently traumatic, and two people can experience the same circumstances very differently. But repeated exposure to threat, instability, discrimination, or environments that require us to constantly monitor and adapt ourselves can influence the ways our minds and bodies learn to respond.

Over time, some of that readiness can become automatic. We may find ourselves anticipating what could go wrong, rehearsing conversations before they happen, paying close attention to changes in someone's tone or facial expression, over-explaining ourselves, struggling to ask for help, or having difficulty resting because there is always something else we feel we should be doing. Physically, that might look like a clenched jaw, raised shoulders, shallow breathing, restlessness, difficulty relaxing, or feeling tense before we've even consciously figured out why.

For someone who has experienced trauma, hypervigilance isn't necessarily random. There may have been a time when noticing small changes, staying prepared, or reacting quickly helped us navigate something very real.

As a Black woman who has experienced both personal and systemic trauma, that's something I have to hold in my own practice too. There are times when being aware of my surroundings is appropriate. There are situations where how I am perceived matters, whether I want it to or not. At the same time, I don't want to spend every moment of my life bracing for what could happen.

That's part of what slowing down and becoming more connected with my body offers me. It gives me an opportunity to notice what is happening internally and compare that with what is actually happening around me. Is something requiring a response right now? Am I safe enough in this moment to soften a little? Is this an old pattern showing up because it recognizes something familiar? Do I want to respond the way I normally would, or is another choice available to me?

The goal isn't to convince ourselves that everything is safe, because everything isn't. Discrimination, systemic inequities, unsafe relationships, and actual threats don't disappear because we become more mindful. Sometimes the appropriate response is to protect ourselves, leave, speak up, prepare, or remain alert. What practices like this can offer is an opportunity to become more familiar with ourselves so that, when we do have choices, we can begin distinguishing between what requires our response and what we may no longer need to carry with the same level of vigilance.

And when a moment is safe enough, maybe we begin practicing what it feels like to experience that, too. That could mean allowing our shoulders to relax, asking someone for help instead of automatically handling everything ourselves, setting a boundary, resting without first proving we've earned it, or simply noticing that we don't have to prepare for the next thing while we're still living in this one.

So, Where Does TCTSY Come In?

Trauma Center Trauma-Sensitive Yoga, or TCTSY, is an evidence-based adjunctive treatment developed for complex trauma and PTSD. What drew me to the approach wasn't simply the idea of “using yoga for trauma.” It was the way the practice intentionally creates opportunities for choice-making, present-moment awareness, interoception, non-coercion, and shared authentic experience.

In other words, instead of someone else deciding what you should do with your body, you're repeatedly given opportunities to notice and choose.

An invitation might be offered to move your arm, and you decide whether or how you'd like to explore that movement. If something doesn't feel supportive, you might continue, adjust, rest, choose another option, or stop. Instead of someone telling you what you should be feeling, there is space to notice your own experience. And rather than the facilitator standing outside of the experience and watching everyone else practice, TCTSY emphasizes a shared authentic experience in which the facilitator practices alongside participants.

For some of us, choosing whether to lift an arm, keep it where it is, or try something different may seem like a very simple decision. For someone else, making a choice at all may be part of the practice.

Maybe you identify as indecisive and spend a lot of time questioning whether you're making the “right” choice. Maybe you've learned to prioritize what other people want before considering what you want, have become accustomed to looking outside of yourself for reassurance or permission, or have had experiences where choices were regularly made for you or taken away altogether. When you've had limited opportunities to identify what you want and have that choice respected, a question as simple as “What would I like to do?” can be more complicated than it sounds.

TCTSY gives us opportunities to practice this within a structured environment where we have greater control over our own experience. That can begin before movement even starts. You might choose where you practice, whether your camera is on or off, whether you're on a yoga mat, carpet, bed, or chair, what you're wearing, what supports you have nearby, and how you'd like to arrange your space so that it feels comfortable and authentic to you. Once we begin moving, those opportunities for choice continue.

The purpose isn't to make the “right” choice. It's having opportunities to notice that a choice exists, consider what you want or need, make a decision, and experience what happens next.

There's something meaningful about repeatedly experiencing:

I noticed something. I had options. I made a choice.

And choice is only one part of what we're practicing.

TCTSY also emphasizes present-moment awareness and interoception, or noticing what's happening within the body. That might mean noticing your breathing, temperature, tension, pressure, effort, ease, or another sensation without someone else deciding what that sensation means for you. For those of us who are accustomed to living in our heads, anticipating what comes next, or paying close attention to everything happening around us, bringing some attention back to what is happening within us right now can be its own practice.

Non-coercion is another important part of the approach. You don't have to push through something simply because an instructor suggested it. An invitation is just that—an invitation. You can explore it, modify it, choose something else, rest, or decide not to participate in that particular movement at all. Learning to notice “I don't want to do this,” “this doesn't feel supportive,” or “I'd rather try this instead” and then having that decision respected can matter, particularly for people whose boundaries or autonomy haven't always been respected.

TCTSY also emphasizes shared authentic experience. Rather than me standing outside of the practice watching, correcting, or expecting everyone else's body to look like mine, I participate in the practice alongside you. We're sharing a space and an experience while still recognizing that what is happening within your body belongs to you.

None of these things necessarily look dramatic from the outside. Sometimes we're talking about choosing where to put your arm, noticing your feet against the floor, deciding to sit instead of stand, or realizing you'd rather stop moving altogether. But these small opportunities allow us to repeatedly practice noticing ourselves, identifying what we want or need, and responding with intention.

And with practice, perhaps the questions we explore here—What am I noticing? What do I need? What do I want? What choices are available to me?—begin to feel a little more familiar outside of the yoga space, too.

Because ultimately, these are not only yoga questions. They're life questions.

What Can I Expect Trauma-Sensitive Yoga at A.M.L. to Look Like?

At A.M.L., I talk a lot about making life work for you, and I want that same philosophy to carry into our yoga practice. You aren't coming into class to learn the “right” way to practice yoga or to make your body look like mine. You're coming into a space where you can explore what yoga looks like and means for you.

Yes, we'll move our bodies, but yoga is much more than the physical postures, or asanas, that many of us are most familiar with. Throughout our classes, we'll also have opportunities to learn about and experience other aspects of yoga and consider how they might apply both on and off the mat. We may explore breath and pranayama, meditation and attention, the Yamas and Niyamas, or frameworks such as the chakras within yogic traditions.

Some weeks, that might mean learning about ahimsa, or non-harming, and considering what that looks like in the way we speak to ourselves or respond to our bodies. Another week, we might explore santosha, or contentment, and what it means to appreciate where we are while still wanting something different for ourselves. We may focus on a particular chakra, spend more time noticing our breath, or simply reflect on what we're carrying into practice that day.

And then we get to practice these things rather than only talk about them.

Our live classes include time for reflection, embodied movement, opportunities to notice what's happening within your body, and choices throughout the practice. You'll be invited to decide what works for you—whether that means exploring a movement, modifying it, using a chair or another support, resting, or choosing not to do something at all.

Even your environment gets to be part of that choice. Because we're virtual, you can create a space that feels authentic to you. Maybe you're on a yoga mat in a designated room. Maybe you're on the carpet beside your bed. Maybe your camera is off, your dog is walking across the screen, your kids are nearby, or you're practicing outside because that's where you feel most present. You don't have to create the perfect yoga environment before you're allowed to practice yoga.

My hope is that what we practice during those 50 minutes doesn't have to stay there. Maybe you become more comfortable noticing what you need. Maybe you practice making a decision without immediately questioning yourself. Maybe you recognize that you're tense before you've reached your limit. Maybe you learn when you want to push yourself and when you'd rather rest. Maybe something we explore around breath, spirituality, discipline, non-harming, contentment, or presence becomes relevant to something happening in your life that week.

That's what making yoga work for you means to me.

Yoga at A.M.L. is a space to move, learn, reflect, find community, and practice showing up for yourself in ways that can extend beyond the mat and into your everyday life.

You don't need previous yoga experience, expensive equipment, flexibility, or a perfect setup to begin.

What could your 50 minutes be for?

Morning Flow
Fridays | 6:00–6:50 AM ET

Evening Flow
Sundays + Mondays | 7:30–8:20 PM ET

Live virtually | Beginner-friendly | Classes starting at $5