Lessons Learned From My Canine Teachers

The chaos erupted in an instant—one moment, there was tense stillness, and the next, a blur of teeth, snarls, and frenzied movement shattered the fragile peace we had known. The air was thick with the sound of snapping jaws and guttural growls, a primal storm of fear and fury unfolding before me. Time slowed as I fought to intervene, my voice drowned out by the raw intensity of the fight, hands grasping desperately to pull them apart before more damage could be done. And when the storm finally passed, when the dust settled and trembling bodies were separated, the world we had once known was no more. The trust that had existed before was fractured, replaced by wary glances and the sobering weight of knowing that things would never be the same.  I stood in the yard, hands covered in blood and fur and wondered how I was going to pick up all the pieces to move forward.  Little did I know I was about to become the student on this healing journey.

Healing from trauma is a journey that requires patience, consistency, and an unwavering commitment to growth. In many ways, the process of trauma recovery mirrors the lessons I’ve learned while retraining my reactive dogs. Both require a deep understanding of triggers, the reshaping of conditioned responses, and the cultivation of a sense of safety in an unpredictable world. Through this process, I have found profound insights into healing—both my own and theirs.

At the core of both experiences is the concept of safety. A reactive dog is not aggressive for the sake of aggression; they are responding to perceived threats, whether real or imagined. Trauma survivors do the same. Our nervous systems have been wired for survival, constantly scanning for danger, even in moments of peace. Just as a reactive dog must be gently exposed to the world in a way that reassures them they are safe, trauma survivors must learn to create internal and external environments that foster security. This is not a quick process, and it is not about forcing ourselves into uncomfortable situations. Instead, it is about steady, intentional steps toward redefining what safety feels like.

Trust is another vital component of both healing and training. A dog that has learned the world is dangerous will not suddenly trust a new person or situation, no matter how well-intentioned. Trust is built over time, through consistency and the absence of harm. Trauma survivors often find themselves struggling to trust—not just others, but themselves. We must learn to trust our ability to make safe choices, to regulate our emotions, and to navigate relationships without the looming expectation of betrayal or pain. Healing requires us to become the steady, compassionate presence in our own lives, the way a trainer must be for a dog who has never known stability.

Then there’s the reality of setbacks. Anyone who has worked with reactive dogs knows that progress is not linear. There are good days, where they respond calmly in situations that once sent them into a spiral, and then there are days when all the progress seems to vanish in an instant. Trauma healing works the same way. Just when we think we have mastered our triggers, an unexpected situation can throw us back into old patterns of fear, self-doubt, or avoidance. The key in both cases is to meet these setbacks with understanding rather than frustration. Regression is not failure; it is simply part of the process. With each misstep, we gather more information about what we need to move forward.

Perhaps the most profound lesson I have learned from both experiences is the power of self-regulation. A trainer’s emotions will always influence a reactive dog. If I approach my dog’s fear with tension and frustration, they will mirror that energy. But if I breathe deeply, remain grounded, and show them that there is no need for alarm, they begin to soften. Trauma survivors, too, must learn to regulate their emotions, not just for themselves but for the relationships they hold dear. The more we learn to soothe our own nervous systems, the more we create an environment where healing can flourish.

In the end, both trauma recovery and training reactive dogs require one thing above all else: love. Love that is patient, love that is willing to show up even on the hard days, love that understands that progress is measured in small, quiet victories. Neither journey is easy, but both teach us that transformation is possible when met with consistency, compassion, and the willingness to rewrite the stories we have been told about ourselves and our place in the world.  Just as a single fight can shatter the world we once knew, a traumatic experience can break our sense of safety, leaving us wary and uncertain. But just as we don’t give up on our dogs after a setback, we cannot give up on ourselves. We must learn to rebuild trust—both in ourselves and in the world around us—by meeting our fear with compassion, our wounds with care, and our past with understanding. Healing is not about erasing what happened but about learning how to respond differently, rewriting old patterns with gentleness and resilience. In time, what was once chaos can become calm, and what was once reactive can become intentional. We are not broken; we are learning, growing, and healing—one step, one breath, and one moment at a time.

Anastasia Jorquera-Boschman is a retired teacher, principal and educational consultant who currently holds space for others as a Trauma-Informed Resilience Coach.  On the side Anastasia can be found training her two fear reactive pitbulls Molly and Willow.