When Play Is Stolen…
In a recent session, a client put words to something many trauma survivors carry:
“Play was stolen from me when my trauma began.”
Being serious, completing the tasks, and staying responsible became more important than joy, spontaneity, or exploration.
That pattern did not remain in childhood. It continues to shape the dominant narrative of their adult life: There is always something that needs to be done before play can begin.
When Play Becomes Something We Must Earn
Play is not just for children. It is an essential part of a healthy adult life.
But when we learn that play is unacceptable, or that the world is not safe enough to allow it, those lessons can become deeply rooted.
Play becomes something permitted only after everything is done.
Of course, everything is rarely done.
Even when a moment of pleasure becomes available, the brain may quickly overthink it:
You do not have time for this.
You have not earned this.
This is unproductive.
You are being lazy.
What could have been a moment of freedom becomes a stolen piece of the day, accompanied by guilt, vigilance, or the sense that there will be consequences.
The opportunity for pleasure may be present, while the body continues to brace.
Imagine Being Free Enough to Play
Imagine being free enough as a child to run when your body wanted to run.
To laugh out loud because your belly told you it was okay.
To explore the world around you with curiosity.
Imagine learning to be still because stillness was part of the game, not a way to survive.
Imagine knowing that your body was free to move, explore, make noise, take up space, and express itself. Imagine trusting that this freedom would be welcomed rather than punished.
This is play.
Play is an essential part of life and one of the conditions that supports living with dignity and flourishing.
Trauma therapists ask about violence, abuse, neglect, instability, and loss. We typically focus on what happened.
But again and again, this misses a larger question:
What did this person not receive that every living being was entitled to experience?
One of those core entitlements is play.
How did you play?
Was play invited and encouraged?
Was it interrupted, controlled, mocked, or punished?
Was it treated as an afterthought, something allowed only after the work, chores, and responsibilities were complete?
And when you think about play today, what begins to show up in your body?
Play Is a Core Entitlement
All living beings deserve opportunities to experience play throughout the lifespan.
Yet many of the clients we work with did not have meaningful access to play as children. They may also have little access to it in their adult lives. Many of us, as clinicians, do not yet have a supportive framework for naming what was missing or exploring how that deprivation continues to shape the brain and body.
Play invites imagination, joy, whimsy, curiosity, connection, and learning.
It allows the body to move without judgment, to experience slowness and speed, motion and stillness, activation and rest.
Through play, the body can begin to discover that these sensations do not always mean danger.
A fast heartbeat can be exhilaration rather than threat.
Movement can bring pleasure instead of punishment.
Being seen can bring connection instead of shame.
Making a mistake can become part of discovery rather than evidence of failure.
Play offers opportunities for flexibility and spontaneity. It helps build confidence and ego strength while allowing new adaptive information to be encoded in the brain and body: I can be activated and still be safe. I can move freely. I can experience pleasure. I can try something without knowing exactly how it will end.
But what happens when play is not an option?
What happens when imagination, curiosity, and free movement become unavailable because safety is absent?
When the Body Cannot Play
Without play, children miss important opportunities to develop imagination, social connection, bodily awareness, and ways of moving through stress.
Play offers a space to express and reenact what the inner world is experiencing. It allows children to experiment with different roles, movements, outcomes, and possibilities. Experiences can be explored, reorganized, and sometimes brought toward completion.
When play is unavailable, the body may learn that free movement is unsafe.
Every action must be measured.
Every sound must be monitored.
Every moment must be handled carefully and without mistake.
Instead of exploring the world, the child learns to monitor it.
Instead of following the ways their body innately wants to move, they learn to shape themselves around the moods, needs, and expectations of others.
They may become serious, responsible, productive, or quiet, not because these qualities reflect who they naturally are, but because these ways of being helped them remain safe within the nest they were given.
Research is beginning to explore how these patterns continue into adulthood. A 2026 study found that greater symptoms of complex PTSD were associated with lower playfulness and poorer intimate relationship quality. This matters. Play is a protective factor and without it, more challenges continue to arise. Emotional numbing and difficulty trusting may make spontaneity, openness, shared laughter, and lighthearted connection feel less available.
Exploring Play Through the Nest Metaphor
The Nest Metaphor invites us to reconsider how we understand the past, the questions we ask, and the answers that emerge through both spoken words and the language of the body.
Did your client grow up in a nest that supported play, one that welcomed laughter, delight, imagination, movement, messiness, and unstructured time?
What emerges as they notice this?
Did they grow up in a nest where play was discouraged because every moment was filtered through an adult who valued work, performance, quiet, or responsibility?
What shifts in the body as this is named?
Does something tighten or constrict?
Does the breath change?
Did they grow up in a nest so unpredictable that play felt safe and fun in one moment, then dangerous in the next?
Was laughter welcomed until an adult’s mood changed?
Was noise acceptable until it drew unwanted attention?
Did excitement quickly become chaos?
How does that recognition arrive through the skin, breath, belly, muscles, or heart?
Did the child learn to shape their body around other people rather than follow the innate ways their own body wanted to move and explore?
Did they grow up in a nest where laughter was contagious and loud, or one where they had to hold it in until they were certain it was allowed?
A person may remember having toys, activities, or extracurricular opportunities and still have experienced little true play.
Their activities may have centered on achievement, competition, perfection, or pleasing an adult. They were busy, but they were not free.
When we understand the context of play in a client’s early nest, we understand more about who they are, how they were shaped, and the patterns that remain present today.
We begin to see why rest may feel uncomfortable.
Why pleasure brings guilt.
Why mistakes feel dangerous.
Why open-ended time creates anxiety.
Why hobbies quickly become another place to perform.
Why spontaneity may feel more threatening than freeing.
Weaving Play Into the Modern Nest
We can help clients rediscover play, but we cannot demand spontaneity from a body that once needed to remain careful.
The invitation must begin with curiosity.
What form of play feels most available?
What amount feels possible?
Is play easier with another person, alone, outside, through creativity, or while moving the body?
Can the person notice even a few seconds of pleasure before the impulse to become productive returns?
We can remind clients that the child within always deserved opportunities to be spontaneous, curious, loud, imaginative, and filled with laughter.
Play does not need to be frivolous, performative, or earned. It can become a healing agent and a daily practice woven gently into the modern nest.
The human-animal bond may offer one doorway.
Animals frequently invite us into moments that are unplanned and alive: a playful bow, a sudden movement, a curious interaction, or an unexpected burst of energy.
When an animal offers an invitation to play, what happens in the body?
Does accepting that invitation feel different from choosing play only for yourself?
Perhaps play feels more permissible when it is relational, when it is offered by a being who is fully present and unconcerned with productivity.
When we slow down enough to notice these invitations, we may find that opportunities for curiosity, movement, and connection are already appearing around us.
And as clients begin weaving together their future nests, play can become part of the foundation: a life with more room for freedom, pleasure, movement, connection, imagination, curiosity, and aliveness.
Questions to Consider
What opportunities for play existed in the person’s early nest?
Was play welcomed, interrupted, controlled, mocked, punished, or considered unproductive?
Did the person have to grow up too quickly?
Were they able to play freely, or did play center on achievement and performance?
What happens in their body when there is no task to complete?
Can they experience pleasure, creativity, or spontaneity without bracing for consequences?
What forms of play feel most available in their modern nest?
What forms of play feel threatening, embarrassing, or undeserved?
When an animal or another trusted being invites them to play, does that feel different from inviting play in for themselves?
We should also be willing to turn these questions toward ourselves.
As clinicians carrying the weight of other people’s stories, where does play live in our own nests?
Do we make room for it, or do we also believe it must wait until the notes, emails, trainings, household tasks, and emotional labor are finished?
Play is not simply something we do when the work is complete.
It is part of what helps the brain and body learn that life can hold more than vigilance, responsibility, performance, and survival.
Sometimes, flourishing begins when the body discovers that it is finally free enough to play.
Reference:
Tan, S.-X., Li, H., Chu, C., and Tan, J.-W. (2026). Associations between complex post-traumatic stress disorder and intimate relationship quality: The parallel mediating roles of mentalization and playfulness. Frontiers in Psychology, 17, Article 1779202.
Ontario Psychological Association: https://www.psych.on.ca/Public/Blog/2025/Playfulness-and-Play-for-Adults
The Strong National Museum of Play: https://www.museumofplay.org/press-release/research-suggests-that-play-built-is-a-major-barrier-to-adult-play/