Containment vs Motivation: Regulate Your Nervous System

Why Motivation Falls Short

There was a morning last year when I sat at my desk with a mug of coffee going cold and a list of things I'd written the night before—reasonable things, small things, things I genuinely wanted to do. I stared at that list for twenty minutes. My body felt heavy. My mind felt loud. And somewhere underneath all of it was this quiet, familiar accusation: You're just not trying hard enough.

I'd heard every version of the motivation speech by then. Set better goals. Find your why. Visualise success. Break it into smaller steps. And I had done all of that. I had systems and timers and colour-coded plans. What I didn't have was the ability to access any of it when my nervous system decided the world was too much.

Because motivation assumes you're starting from calm. It assumes your body believes it's safe to move forward, that your mind has the space to choose, that there's enough stillness inside you to hear what you actually want. When your body is flooded or shut down, choice shrinks to almost nothing. Trauma and burnout can push the nervous system into states of high alert or numb shutdown. In those states, getting back to baseline isn’t about trying harder; it’s about helping the body feel safe enough to choose again.

In a steady rhythm, stress rises and falls and we come back to ourselves. With chronic stress, the body learns to brace and keep scanning. When you’re living braced, all the vision boards in the world won’t land.

What Containment Is

I didn't need another push. I needed something to hold me.

That's what I've come to understand as containment. Not discipline. Not control. Not forcing myself into boxes that weren't built for bodies like mine. Containment is the opposite of pressure. It's structure without demand. Rhythm, predictability, and safe relationships help the body register “I’m okay” again. Simple, repeatable routines can steady us when we’re dysregulated.

Consistent daily routines provide predictability. Spaces that feel physically comfortable signal safety to the nervous system. These aren't productivity hacks—they're neurobiological necessities. Creating environments with a sense of predictability and control through routine and structure is how we design our lives to help our bodies feel safe again.

Simple Containers

For me, it started with my hands. Knitting became a place I could go when everything else felt too open, too uncertain, too full of choices I didn't have the energy to make. The pattern held me. The rhythm didn't require motivation. I didn't have to want to knit—I just had to start the next stitch, and then the one after that, and the repetition itself became the container.

Research suggests repetitive, bilateral movements and predictable patterns can support emotional regulation for many people[1][2][8]. Participants in craft-based programs often describe trusting the process itself—“almost as though it was a person.”[1]

It didn't matter if I was doing it well. It mattered that I was doing something my body could follow without thinking.

Containment can look like a lot of things. It's the same walk at the same time each day, not because it's optimal, but because it's known. The rhythmic left-right of walking can help some people feel more present and steady—enough to make the next choice without forcing it.[3][4]

Containment is making the bed in the morning, not as a productivity hack, but as a small act of closing a loop. It's the ritual of tea before writing, or five minutes of stretching before sleep, or always putting your keys in the same spot. These aren't achievements. They're anchor points. They're places your nervous system can recognise and relax into, even when the rest of life feels chaotic.

Where in your day do you already have a rhythm you trust?

Start tiny: pick one low‑demand, repeatable action to return to daily—three rows of knitting, a five‑minute walk, tea before writing.

When You Fall Off (and Return)

What containment offers is agency without force. It lets you show up without needing to be ready. It doesn't ask you to feel motivated or inspired or even particularly functional. It just asks you to return. And in that returning—again and again, without judgment—you start to rebuild trust with yourself. Not because you've proven you can do hard things, but because you've proven you can do small things, consistently, even when you feel like you can't do anything at all.

I used to think inconsistency was failure. That if I couldn't maintain momentum, I was letting myself down. Now I see it differently. Inconsistency is what happens when you're trying to run on motivation alone, and motivation is a resource that runs out. Containment doesn't run out. It just waits for you to come back.

There are still days when I don't knit, when I don't walk, when I let the routines fall away because I'm overwhelmed or exhausted or just done. And that's fine. Containment doesn't punish you for leaving. It's still there when you return. That's the point. It's not about perfection. It's about having something that holds you when you can't hold everything yourself.

I'm not saying motivation is bad. I'm saying it's not the only way forward, and for some of us, it's not even the right place to start. Sometimes what we need isn't a reason to move—it's a place to land. A rhythm we can follow. A boundary that feels like relief instead of restriction.

Containment doesn't ask you to be more. It just asks you to be here, in this moment, doing this one small thing. And then, if you can, the next one. Not because you're building toward something. Just because you're here, and that's enough.

Research References

The concepts explored in this article are supported by neuroscience and trauma recovery research:

Nervous System Dysregulation After Trauma

• After trauma, the nervous system can become stuck in states of hyperarousal (heightened anxiety, constant alertness) or hypoarousal (numbness, disconnection). Returning to baseline often requires safety cues and regulation supports rather than sheer willpower. [5]

Window of Tolerance

• A regulated nervous system experiences stress and then returns to equilibrium when the threat passes—the “window of tolerance.” Trauma and chronic stress may narrow this window. [6]

Polyvagal Theory & Safety-Based Interventions

• Polyvagal-informed approaches emphasise rhythm, predictability, and relational safety. Practical tools like rhythmic pacing and consistent routines may help steady autonomic states. [7]
• Consistent routines, physically comfortable spaces, and predictable environments can signal safety to the nervous system. [7]

Bilateral Stimulation & Repetitive Movement

• Repetitive, rhythmic sensory input (including left-right movements) is used in some therapies and may facilitate emotional processing and present-moment anchoring. [8]
• Walking’s rhythmic movement can support mood and regulation for many people. [3][4]

Knitting as Therapeutic Intervention

• Knitting’s bilateral, repetitive movements may engage both hemispheres and support regulation. [1]
• Predictable, repetitive stitches are reported to promote relaxation and a sense of safety. [1][2]
• Some studies report people using knitting/crochet as coping strategies, describing trust in the process “almost as though it was a person.” [1][2]
• In creative arts programs, some veterans report craft-based groups as a helpful coping activity. [9]

Key Researchers & Theories

• Stephen Porges – Polyvagal Theory [7]
• Dan Siegel – Window of Tolerance model [6]
• Francine Shapiro / EMDR – Bilateral stimulation in trauma therapy [8]

References

Further reading for those who like to understand the science behind the experience:

1. Corkhill, B., Hemmings, J., Maddock, A., & Riley, J. (2014). Knitting and wellbeing. British Journal of Occupational Therapy, 77(2), 50–57. https://doi.org/10.4276/030802214X13990455093489

2. Leckey, J. (2011). The therapeutic effectiveness of creative activities on mental well-being: A systematic review of the literature. Journal of Psychiatric and Mental Health Nursing, 18(6), 501–509. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1365-2850.2010.01693.x

3. Meyer, J. D., Koltyn, K. F., Stegner, A. J., Kim, J.-S., & Cook, D. B. (2016). Relationships between aerobic fitness, exercise intensity, and affective responses to exercise. Journal of Affective Disorders, 196, 104–110. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jad.2016.02.001

4. Schuch, F. B., Vancampfort, D., Richards, J., Rosenbaum, S., Ward, P. B., & Stubbs, B. (2016). Exercise as a treatment for depression: A meta-analysis adjusting for publication bias. Journal of Psychiatric Research, 77, 42–51. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jpsychires.2016.02.023

5. van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The body keeps the score: Brain, mind, and body in the healing of trauma. Viking.

6. Siegel, D. J. (1999). The developing mind: How relationships and the brain interact to shape who we are. Guilford Press.

7. Porges, S. W. (2001). The polyvagal theory: Phylogenetic substrates of a social nervous system. International Journal of Psychophysiology, 42(2), 123–146. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0167-8760(01)00162-3

8. Shapiro, F. (1989). Eye movement desensitization: A new treatment for post-traumatic stress disorder. Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology, 57(1), 35–41. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-006X.57.1.35

9. Collie, K., Backos, A., Malchiodi, C., & Spiegel, D. (2006). Art therapy for combat-related PTSD: Recommendations for research and practice. Art Therapy, 23(4), 157–164. https://doi.org/10.1080/07421656.2006.10129643