Anyone else with a trauma history just hanging out on their closet floor right now?
A few nights ago, my partner was in the spare bedroom of our apartment, working on his computer. I’d returned home from the climbing gym earlier and gone into my bathroom to shower.
It had been quite a while, actually. He checked the time and realized it’d been nearly an hour since the water stopped running, yet I hadn’t reemerged.
Understandably concerned, he knocked on the bathroom door to check on me. When I casually responded that he could come in, he cautiously turned the knob, unsure what to expect.
Shelf isolation
He found me with my wet hair in a towel, sitting cross-legged on my closet floor, contentedly typing away on my laptop.
I had my two emotional support dogs cuddled near my legs alongside my emotional support, Nalgene. The girls were snoozing lazily, as though this was a routine activity for our little team.
Understandably perplexed (but hopefully… charmed?) by this newfound quirk, my partner asked if this was something I did often.
Prior to this interaction, I hadn’t thought about it too deeply. Caught in the act, however, I was forced to do some introspection.
After a beat, I was bashful to admit that I did hang out on my closet floor fairly often. Why exactly did I find myself there so much?
The answer, as it so often is in my life, is trauma.
Hung up
It started after my long period of abuse.
Under my abuser’s thumb, I’d been heavily monitored, controlled, and isolated from others for five years. As a result, being alone is now typically when I feel safest.
When I’m in my closet facing the door, I’m surrounded by walls where no one can sneak up on me. My current closet even has the bonus of being located inside the lockable spare bathroom.
The confined space provides a sense of security and privacy that’s hard for me to feel elsewhere. There, I can finally let down the truly exhausting mask of normalcy I have to wear in front of others.
Understanding the flight response
Cortisol is a stress hormone that warns the body of danger. It signals to the amygdala to prepare the body for a “fight or flight” stress response. Ideally, once the threat has passed cortisol levels return to normal and the body can return to “rest and digest” mode.
For someone with a trauma disorder like CPTSD, however, cortisol levels are all out of whack, wreaking havoc on the mind and body.
For some, cortisol levels may be chronically high, insisting that you’re in ever-present danger. For others, cortisol is chronically low, failing to alert the body to threats it’s been helpless to fight in the past.
Cortisol imbalance puts a lot of stress on the body; impacting normal processes like sleep, digestion, memory processing, and immune function. It can have severe health consequences across the board, including areas like mental wellness, mood, concentration, and sexual functioning.
Fashion sense of safety
As a result of the trauma I endured, my nervous system is constantly sending me the signal that I need to protect myself, but also that I will fail.
You can see how this looming feeling of unsafety could potentially cause one to do odd things, like say, flee into their closet to feel safe from unseen (but constantly felt) danger. My body seems to be instinctually trying to help reduce my stress by getting me to safety and decompression.
Upon reflection, I’ve come to realize that I’ve seen similar behaviors before in my beloved dogs.
Denning: Animal instincts and learned behaviors
My Shih Tzu loves going under the bed when she’s overstimulated and is always squirreling her toys away under there with her. It’s a small space where only she can fit; a clear signal that she needs some space.
Denning results from the canine instinct to sleep (and therefore be vulnerable to predators) in areas that are comfortable, protected, and camouflaged.
I’ve noticed my dogs exhibiting other “denning” behaviors when stressed or seeking safety from a perceived threat. They’ll duck under a chair or table at the vet, or retreat to their crates when strangers come over. Digging outside or even on blankets can be an adorable form of self-protection.
This behavior is born of an instinctual desire to find the safest shelter before letting their guard down to rest. Reasons may include anxiety, hiding/protecting meaningful resources, or simply finding a favorite comfy spot and marking a spot as their own.
Denning isn’t something animals are taught; it’s ingrained in their nature. Similarly, humans may also instinctively seek out safe spaces when feeling threatened or overwhelmed.
“Trauma denning”: Embracing the need for solitude
Animals don’t worry that their actions are abnormal or silly; they stay attuned to their bodies and seek safety when they need to rest and recharge. Maybe we should take a page out of their books.
Bet you thought I was going to give you tips on how to not indulge in self-isolation behaviors like this, didn’t you? Listen, the world is already tough. If you’re a survivor, you’ve been through something terrible that likely still causes you additional life stress.
Why would I take away something that brings you a modicum of comfort?
It’s ok to need space and time to recover. It’s ok to feel the need to find safety. If surviving means I’m a weirdo who hangs out in their closet sometimes to soothe my poor tired brain, so be it.
Wardrobe function: Pro tips for trauma denning
I’ve embraced my closet as a safe space for comfort and relaxation, setting it up to meet my self-care needs. It can be so calming to just listen to my body once in a while, allowing myself to seek shelter rather than constantly fighting my symptoms. Understanding and accepting this behavior as a natural response to trauma can foster self-compassion.
I have an ottoman and pillow in my closet now, although I’m typically still drawn to the floor for whatever reason. I keep a book, portable speaker, water bottle, and even sometimes hide snacks in there.
Don’t you dare tell my partner that’s where the cookies keep going.
Monster in the closet
When I’m struggling to relax, I’ll often meditate or write from the solitude of my closet floor. It’s where I’ve written most of this article. I’m able to finally focus without my noisy brain constantly distracting me with alarm bells.
My closet is also where I occasionally allow myself to finally release my bottled-up fears, anger, and memories that I don’t feel safe sharing with others. Sometimes, I just cry. That’s ok, too.
For others who may find solace in denning, consider this permission to take time for yourself and listen to your body’s needs. If you don’t already have one, take the time to create a comfortable and safe space just for yourself. Add soft lighting, essential oils, comfortable seating, or even some favorite items to make the space more inviting.
Conclusion: Weird, but fine
Sometimes I hide because I’m afraid, other times I’m burnt out or exhausted from stress. Surrounded by four walls where no one can sneak up on me, I feel safe enough to let my guard down just a bit.
Can you think of a place in your life where you truly feel safe and can consciously let your guard down? If you feel comfortable sharing, I’d love to hear about your “trauma denning” space.