When Words and Actions Don’t Match, Your Body Notices
- Catherine Sophia Cooper

- Jan 15
- 4 min read

Introduction to this series
This blog is part of a series exploring a familiar but often unnamed experience: that sense that something feels off , even when everything sounds reasonable.
It’s the unease that lingers after a conversation you can’t quite explain. When reassurance doesn’t settle the body. When coping is encouraged, but something inside tightens instead of easing.
Across this series, I’ll be looking at why these moments occur, how people are subtly trained to doubt their own signals, and how mismatches between words and actions show up in the body, often long before the mind can make sense of them.
We’ll move through relationships, systems, education, healthcare, power, and pain, not to assign blame, but to understand patterns.
How well-intentioned structures can override conscience.
Why fear-based control rarely creates safety.
And why alignment matters more than compliance.
Some pieces are written for those just beginning to notice the mismatch. Others are for those who already see it clearly, but have learned to stay quiet.
This series isn’t about fixing people. It’s about naming what the body already knows.
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There is a particular kind of discomfort that is hard to explain.
Nothing overtly bad has happened. Everyone is polite. The words sound reassuring. On the surface, things appear reasonable.
And yet something feels off.
You might struggle to articulate it. You might even talk yourself out of it. “I’m probably overthinking.” “They mean well.” “I should be grateful they’re trying.”
But the feeling does not go away.
That quiet unease, the knot in your stomach, the heaviness in your chest, the tension that lingers after a conversation that was meant to be supportive, is not random. It is information.
You are not imagining it.
The gut feeling we are taught to override
Many of us learn, often very early on, to distrust our internal signals.
We are encouraged to prioritise politeness over honesty, compliance over curiosity, and logic over feeling.
So when something sounds kind but feels unsettling, we assume the problem must be us.
But the nervous system does not work like that.
It is not persuaded by eloquent language or good intentions. It responds to patterns, consistency, and what actually happens over time.
When words and actions do not align, the body notices, even if the mind tries to rationalise it away.
“Why does this feel wrong when everyone is being so polite?”
This is a common question in situations involving institutions, professionals, or authority.
Nothing aggressive is happening. No one is shouting. No one is overtly blaming.
And yet there is pressure.
Pressure wrapped in calm voices. Pressure disguised as concern. Pressure that says “we understand” followed by actions that do not reflect that understanding.
This creates contradiction.
The nervous system hears, “You are safe.”
But it experiences, “You are safe until you are not.”
That uncertainty is unsettling.
Inconsistency is not neutral
Consistency is one of the core ingredients of safety.
It is not warmth alone that creates trust. It is not good intentions alone. It is predictability.
When support is offered verbally but withdrawn procedurally, when empathy is present in conversation but absent in writing, when reassurance is followed by escalation, the body does not experience this as neutral.
It experiences it as unreliable.
Unreliable environments require vigilance.
The nervous system’s quiet wisdom
Your nervous system is constantly asking one simple question.
Am I safe here?
Not just physically, but emotionally, relationally, and predictably.
When there is a mismatch between what is said and what is done, the nervous system registers threat, even if it cannot immediately explain why.
This often shows up as anxiety after meetings, rumination, exhaustion, a sense of being on edge, or difficulty trusting the process.
It is not because you are sensitive. It is because your system is doing what it evolved to do.
Why some people feel this more strongly
For people living with anxiety, trauma histories, or long term stress, the margin for contradiction is smaller.
That is not a flaw. It is adaptation.
When safety has changed suddenly in the past, the system becomes more attuned to subtle inconsistencies.
So when kindness does not translate into protection, understanding does not translate into flexibility, and reassurance does not translate into action, the body reacts before the conscious mind catches up.
That reaction is not weakness. It is pattern recognition.
Politeness does not equal safety
One of the most confusing aspects of these situations is that everything looks civilised.
There is no obvious conflict. No raised voices. No overt threat.
But safety is not created by politeness alone.
A system or relationship can be polite and still pressurising. It can be calm and still controlling. It can sound caring while producing harmful outcomes.
This is why so many people leave these interactions feeling unsettled but unable to explain why.
The body senses what the language conceals.
“Maybe I am the problem”
This is often where blame turns inward.
When discomfort is not acknowledged or validated, people start to assume they are too sensitive, too demanding, or should cope better.
Your discomfort is not abstract. It is protective.
It is your nervous system flagging that something does not add up.
Learning to trust the signal
Recognising this does not mean confronting, accusing, or dismantling anything.
It means pausing long enough to notice when something is not congruent.
That awareness alone can change how you move through the world.
You may slow things down, ask clearer questions, seek consistency, set firmer boundaries, and stop blaming yourself.
And perhaps most importantly, you stop dismissing your own experience.
You are not imagining it
If you have ever walked away from a situation thinking, “I cannot explain it, but that did not feel right,” this is your permission to trust that feeling.
Inconsistency is destabilising. Contradiction matters. Your nervous system is not an inconvenience. It is an ally.
Sometimes the most important thing we can do is name what we feel, even before we fully understand it.
Because once we stop dismissing that quiet signal, we can begin to ask better questions. About ourselves, and about the systems and relationships we are moving within.
That is where clarity begins.
This first piece starts with recognition, the moment you realise the discomfort isn’t random.
Next in the series: You’re Safe… Until You’re Not: Why Inconsistency Breeds Anxiety
In the next blog, I’ll explore what happens when safety is promised in words, but withdrawn in practice, and why inconsistency is so destabilising for the nervous system.




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