The Boogeyman and Embodied Safety

So, I know I probably come across as relatively confident and secure in clinic.

But the truth is, I’m actually quite scared of the boogeyman.

I’m not entirely sure where this originated. I don’t think the dark, bushy laneway with a flickery orange light next to my family home helped. And then, more recently, our car was stolen from our driveway.

I tried to play it cool, calm and collected in front of my kids. “No worries boys, sometimes people forget to behave kindly”. But apparently my nervous system didn't quite get the memo.

Every time at night a possum runs across our roof, or an Indian myna decides to peck at the window, my already slightly elevated heart rate rises and I immediately assume the boogeyman is back to take our car again.

My husband told me I automatically barked in the middle of the night the other day because I thought someone was breaking in.

So, there’s that.

But it got me thinking about something I talk about with patients all the time.

There is a major difference between knowing you are safe and actually experiencing safety in your body.

I know I’m safe. My doors are locked and the windows are closed. I look around the room and my prefrontal cortex logically establishes that there is no immediate threat. It tries to tell me “G, you’re safe, go back to sleep”.

And yet... I can be lying in bed, the lights are on, the house is quiet, and my body is behaving as though the boogeyman is hovering 5 inches away from my face. Sometimes I’m actively trying not to breathe too loudly because apparently my body feels that the sound of my own breathing might interfere with my ability to hear the intruder coming.

Ultimately, I can intellectually know that I am safe while my physiology is telling a completely different story.

And the Same Is True in Physiotherapy

You can walk into my clinic room, perhaps with a glowing referral from a friend who has said, “This chick will sort you out. She’s really kind and gentle, don’t mind her music playlist.”

You might know, intellectually, that you are in a safe place. You can know I’m not going to hurt you. You have been told and reassured that I go gently. You made the decision to trust me by walking in my door. But your body doesn’t quite know that yet, hence the muscle guarding, slightly elevated respiratory rate, and darting eyes following my every move.

Our physiology isn’t being difficult. It isn’t failing to listen. It’s not being as stubborn as my 2 year old refusing to get in to the high chair for dinner. Perhaps it has a well-established framework for how to make sense of the world so far, and what that means for its existence. If your experiences have taught your body that certain situations, sensations, movements or people can be threatening, it makes sense that your nervous system might be reluctant to stand down simply because someone has told you that you are safe. Safety likely needs to be experienced and reexperienced several times before the body will truly know safety.

Importantly, when pain persists, the relationship between pain and predicting threat can become quite complicated. Pain is a particularly powerful teacher. Often nervous systems that are in pain (particularly for extended periods of time) become very good at detecting, predicting and responding to potential threat (pain being one of them), while becoming less efficient at registering and learning from cues that indicate safety.

So what this means for my work, is that physiotherapy needs to create opportunities for the nervous system to truly learn and know safety. With the possible result being inhibited threat appraisals, and ultimately inhibition of pain signals.

This Is the Progression Toward Embodied Safety

Embodied safety won’t happen from a decision like “body… we are safe now”… it will happen through experience. Through enough moments of predictability, choice, connection and agency that the nervous system can gradually start to turn the threat dial down.

And sometimes, we can see this happen in the treatment room. I've had patients who have spent years holding a particular part of their body in enormous amounts of protective tension, and then, what I interpret, is that when they begin to feel and embody a sense of safety, something changes. Sometimes there is spontaneous shaking or trembling, or a movement that neither of us was particularly expecting.

And often, both of us have the same look on our faces saying “Aaah, I’m sorry….who is doing that?”

It can almost feel like a third person has entered the room. The patient is watching/feeling their body do something they didn't consciously decide to do, and I'm watching it too, trying very hard to look like this was completely within the treatment plan and not excessively in awe of the bodies innate regulatory capacities.

These moments are often accompanied by tears, laughter, a gigantic sigh and often dramatic reductions in guarding, pain and increase in movement and range. I don't think we need to decide exactly what every one of these responses means. What really interests me is the agency. The body can begin to respond for itself without instruction or protection. It knows what it needs.

And when the body doesn't have to spend quite so much energy protecting, something else becomes possible. Perhaps the nervous system has a little more capacity to explore and integrate experiences that previously felt too threatening to fully experience.

So perhaps embodied safety is about more than quietening the feeling that the boogeyman is hovering above my face. Perhaps it's about gradually developing a felt sense and a bodily knowing, that in this moment, we have enough, choice, strength and confidence, that we are safe. My sense is that this puts us in an infinitely better position to enjoy life, connect with those you love and appreciate all the beautiful things that should be shaping our daily experiences.

But for now, I might go check the driveway just one more time…

See ya later, boogeyman.

Gina Kezelman

Oct 2026