When NVC Doesn’t Work — And What Trauma Has to Do With It
By Pernille Plantener, Coach PCC and Lead trainer of Needs-Based Coaching
Have you fallen in love with the simplicity of the Nonviolent Communication (NVC) model?
The clarity of feelings and needs.
The relief of seeing human behavior as an attempt to meet universal needs.
The hope that if we slow down enough, listen deeply enough, we can bridge almost any difference.
And then — despite your best intentions — the old patterns return.
Especially in your closest relationships. You know the structure. You’ve practiced. You value empathy. Yet in the heat of a moment, something else takes over. Your carefully learned language disappears. Later, you might ask yourself: Why does this still happen?
After many years of practicing and teaching NVC, I can say with tenderness: it makes sense.
Often, the missing piece is not more knowledge. It is the nervous system.
Our early experiences shaped invisible rules about how to stay safe, connected, and acceptable. As children, we depended on belonging. We adapted in ways that helped us survive and stay close to the people we relied on. Perhaps we became compliant. Responsible. Strong. Quiet. Pleasing. Independent - Those strategies were intelligent.
But when something in the present echoes an old threat — disapproval, distance, disappointment, loss of connection — the body reacts before conscious choice is available. The heart races. The voice tightens. The familiar defense comes online.
In that moment, it is not that NVC does not work. It is that trauma lives in the body. When we carry emotional overwhelm from earlier experiences, our system organizes itself around protection. And protection tends to move faster than empathy.
So the question shifts.
Not: “Why can’t I apply the model properly?”
But: “What is my nervous system protecting right now?”
This shift alone can bring a little more kindness to ourselves.
In my work with facilitators and practitioners, we often explore how collective and personal overwhelm shape our inner world. Trauma does not only belong to dramatic events. It can grow from repeated moments of not being seen, not being understood, not feeling safe to express ourselves fully.
When overwhelm is familiar, safety must come first. And safety is not something we think ourselves into. It is something we feel in the body.
The good news is that we do not always need to revisit the deepest pain to create change. Overwhelming experiences link together inside us like lights on a string. When one recent experience softens, others often soften too — even if they are never named.
This is where trauma-informed NVC becomes powerful.
We can gently revisit a recent triggering situation — not to analyze it, but to notice what happened inside. We name the impact of what occurred. We acknowledge the feelings beneath the reaction. And we discover the unmet needs that were alive in that moment.
The principles are simple:
Name the impact of what happened.
Acknowledge the feelings — both the overwhelm and what sits underneath it.
Discover the human needs that were not met.
When we do this with resonance — with a quality of warm, steady presence — something shifts. The body learns that the experience can be held without collapse or attack. Choice slowly returns. And with choice, new responses become possible. This work has changed my own life. It has given me the capacity to pause and ask for a time-out instead of escalating.
To remain connected with my partner even when tension arises.
To ask clearly for what I would like — and to receive a “no” without falling apart.
To trust appreciation.
To accept support.
To release the heavy sense of being responsible for everyone else’s feelings.
These are not techniques. They are nervous system capacities.
Our early patterning once served us beautifully. It kept us safe and connected when we had fewer resources than we do now. But as adults, our lives rarely depend on being compliant or self-sacrificing. We have more choice available — except in those heated moments when our younger self takes the wheel.
Through structured empathy practice — especially in steady partnerships — we can begin to meet those younger parts of ourselves. Not to fix them. Not to correct them. But to understand them.
Over time, the nervous system rewires.
If you recognize yourself in this, you are not alone. Many experienced NVC practitioners carry quiet frustration about the gap between understanding and embodiment.
Healing is possible. Not because we perfect the model. But because we include the body.
Place a hand on your chest. Speak to yourself in the second person: “Dear [your name], would you like me to understand how lonely / overwhelmed / discouraged you sometimes feel?”
Let your adult self simply listen. Sometimes the reason “it doesn’t work” is not lack of skill. It is lack of safety. When safety grows, empathy becomes available again. And from there, change does not need to be forced - it unfolds.