Why Trust Comes First

Throughout time, humans have relied on instinct and survival to navigate the existential threats of everyday life. After all, it's how we survived as a species for thousands of years.

In today’s more advanced civilization, our primal instincts are no longer called upon to serve the same purpose—and yet they continue to shape our inner world just the same. As it turns out, our path is not so different from that of our Neolithic ancestors.

Let me explain.

When we first arrive in therapy, we’re asked to bring willingness, openness, and emotional exposure. Sounds simple enough, right? But to engage in this seemingly straightforward pursuit, we must trust that our environment won’t cause us harm. We must feel safe enough to allow ourselves this kind of vulnerability.

“The work,” as we often call it in therapy, asks us first to lay the groundwork for a safe and stable environment. Regardless of the type of treatment we seek or the modality we follow, it must begin with one essential element: safety. The therapeutic space must be validating, nonjudgmental, and—at its core—emotionally safe.

Consider this: without trust, there can be no safety—an essential and deeply motivating force behind all human behavior. The primitive brain, inherited from our collective past, never truly rests. In fact, psychology tells us it frequently cries out for our attention at every turn: “Where is the threat? Am I safe?” it asks. I call this narrative The Primitive Brain & The Tiger.

In some moments, the therapeutic space can feel like a battleground from the Neolithic age. The primitive brain—like a frightened Neanderthal—defends itself against the threat of a saber-tooth tiger. Except now, the modern human fears something far more elusive and enduring than a wild cat: criticism, exclusion, disapproval.

These overwhelming—and often maladaptive—experiences point to a seemingly objective truth: we are not safe. In moments of emotional vulnerability, we stand par-to-par with the great saber-tooth tiger.

And this standoff can feel so threatening that, subconsciously, we’ll do almost anything to avoid it. That means we don’t go wandering where there might be tigers. Tigers could be anywhere, couldn’t they? It’s best to play it safe, we assure ourselves.

And so, it’s not unnatural for us to prematurely end treatment or spend the therapeutic hour avoiding what’s truly on our minds. We are, of course, more than our primitive brain—we’ve expanded into streams of consciousness our ancestors couldn’t have imagined. At our core, we are also insightful, connected, and courageous human beings.

Though the soul is resilient, its ancient and primal wisdom still calls out for safety—because that’s how it has always thrived. We must feel safe enough to open up and expose our genuine selves to the world around us. The metaphorical tiger is always lurking—not because it means to cause us harm, but because that’s how it, too, has always survived.

Naturally, engaging in the therapeutic relationship with openness, willingness, and true reflection is no small task. It’s only after we feel safe enough to disclose and connect that meaningful and positive change can begin. Built on a foundation of trust, there is hope for insight, healing, and growth.

Our goal? To quiet the tiger—so that the real conversation can begin.

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Thanks for reading. May you continue exploring the space between where you are and who you're becoming, with care and curiosity. Because healing isn't just clinical—it's deeply human.

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