Regulation Language Reconsidered

We are living in a time of disruption — personally, collectively, systemically. And in the middle of all this unraveling, a new kind of language is emerging around healing. Everywhere you look, people are talking about “nervous system regulation.” Therapists, coaches, parents, influencers — all using the term to describe the basic human need to NOT be ruled by stress or overwhelm.

And on the surface, it makes sense. Who doesn’t want to feel steady instead of reactive, grounded instead of panicked?

But the deeper I sit with this language, the more it starts to feel off. Not because regulation is wrong or useless — but because the word itself carries assumptions that don’t match the kind of healing many of us are working toward.

So it’s worth asking: What are we regulating? Who decides what regulated looks like? And what happens when we assume regulation is the goal in the first place?

“Regulation” comes from systems built to maintain order — not wholeness. Machines are regulated. Traffic. Trade. Prisons. To regulate is to control output and reduce variability. To make things predictable.

But the nervous system isn’t built for uniformity. It’s not a problem to be managed. It’s a living, responsive system shaped by context, relationship, and story.

And when we trace the origins of the word, we see it doesn’t come from healing — it comes from the industrialization of systems: military, health care, education, agriculture. Institutions built for scale, not intimacy. Designed to produce outcomes, not relationships. These systems now speak the same language — a language of control, compliance, and performance — because they’ve been shaped by the same logic.

Government regulation, in that context, can be useful — even necessary. Food safety laws for massive corporations that serve millions of people prevent harm when there’s no relationship between producer and consumer. When a system lacks soul, regulation acts as a substitute for care.

But that same regulatory framework applied to a neighborhood café or a home-based ferment shop? It becomes burdensome. A mom-and-pop business rooted in care, community, and accountability doesn’t need the same kind of control. In fact, overregulation can squeeze the life out of something that’s working precisely because it’s built on trust and soul.

And the same is true when we bring that logic into our bodies.

We humans are not corporations. We are not institutions. We are not factories. We are not meant to be standardized, optimized, managed, flattened, or brought back to baseline for someone else’s comfort.

We are full of soul.

So when we apply the language of industrial regulation to the human nervous system, something important gets lost. Regulation may be necessary for systems that lack soul — but not for people who live and feel and love in real time.

We don’t need to be controlled. We need to be met. Not regulated. Resonant.

Resonance shifts the focus from control to contact. From managing symptoms to meeting sensations. From correcting behaviors to listening for meaning. It asks different questions:

What’s really happening here?

What’s the need beneath the behavior?

What part of this experience is asking to be heard, not fixed?

For example:

Janelle is a mother of two. She’s had a long day, she’s overstimulated, and dinner’s behind schedule. One kid accidentally knocks a tray of food onto the floor, and Janelle explodes — slams a cabinet, yells, bursts into tears. Then the shame hits. She feels “out of control.”

A regulation-based model might offer tools to calm her down: breathing exercises, positive mantras, a quick reset.

And sure, there’s a time and place for those. But if the goal is to act and look calm instead of feel supported, the pressure to regulate might just compound the shame.

Now imagine this instead: Janelle places a hand on her chest and names what’s happening. “That was the last straw. I feel invisible. I feel alone.” Maybe her partner walks in and simply says, “That was too much, huh?” and sits nearby. Maybe she steps outside and feels the breeze against her skin. Her system shifts — not because she forced herself to calm down, but because she was met.

That’s resonance.

And resonance isn’t just emotional validation — it’s also a shift in relational awareness. It’s when her partner realizes that sitting with her matters, yes — but so does showing up differently. He clocks that the veggies didn’t just fall; they were dropped by the weight of everything she’s holding. That maybe mowing the lawn in peace without kids underfoot isn’t the fair half of the labor after all. That she doesn’t just need comfort — she needs shared responsibility.

Resonance is when presence leads to action. Not because someone told him what to do — but because he actually noticed.

At the core of HETA — the Harmonized Embodied Transformation Approach — are three key practices: awareness, attunement, and resonance. They don’t promise instant peace. They don’t promise perfection. They invite you to stay in relationship with what’s real.

Awareness means noticing what’s present — inside, outside, and in-between — without jumping to intervene.

Attunement means responding with care instead of control — asking what’s needed, not what’s acceptable.

Resonance is what happens when we do that well — when systems, people, or parts of self recognize each other and soften into connection.

These aren’t new ideas. They’re just often overlooked because they don’t offer quick fixes. They require presence. And they challenge the idea that healing should always look like calm, comfort, or composure.

In fact, some of the most honest moments in healing look like shaking, weeping, telling the truth, feeling the fire. Regulation might call those moments dysregulation. HETA sees them as coherence — when the body finally has enough support to let the truth move through.

That’s why language matters. If we keep pulling from systems built on control — regulate, override, recalibrate, manage — we’re reinforcing the very logic that created the disconnection in the first place. But if we root our language in the body’s natural intelligence — in resonance, rhythm, and relationship — we start to speak in a way that the body can actually trust.

The Rainbow of Resonance, HETA’s living map, builds on Polyvagal Theory but moves beyond a hierarchy of states. Instead of asking, Where are you on the regulation spectrum?, it asks something more human:

Where are you feeling disconnected from harmonic resonance — from a felt sense of safety and connection?

What in you feels out of tune?

And what might help bring that part back into balance — not through force, but through care?

This isn’t about striving for a particular state. It’s about noticing where you are — and meeting that place with honesty, support, and curiosity.

The Rainbow of Resonance includes seven embodied practices that unfold in relational rhythm: Recognition, Connection, Discernment, Compassion, Expression, Listening, and Observing.

Together, they help illuminate where dissonance is happening — and how to come back into alignment with your own truth and your relational world. And these seven steps are not separate from awareness, attunement, and resonance. They are expressions of them.

• Awareness invites us to recognize and connect.

• Attunement guides us to discern, express, and listen.

• Resonance emerges when we meet each part with compassion and stay willing to observe without needing to fix.

This framework gets us closer to what people are actually seeking when they say they want to feel regulated:

To express their needs without shame.

To be met with empathy that doesn’t just soothe, but supports meaningful change.

Not as outcomes to chase — but as ways of being that grow when we relate to ourselves with integrity.

This shift matters — especially for those navigating trauma, neurodivergence, burnout, or systemic harm. Because so often, what looks calm is actually collapse. What looks neutral is actually suppression. What looks “regulated” is someone performing safety so they won’t be punished for being too much.

The world doesn’t need more people who can regulate themselves into silence. It needs people who can stay present through complexity. People who can listen. People who can show up without needing everything to be tidy.

This is what HETA is here to support — not control, but connection. Not compliance, but care. Not a return to baseline, but a return to being in right relationship with ourselves, each other, and the world around us.

And that starts with the words we choose. Not because language is everything — but because it shapes the way we show up. This isn’t about cleaning language up to make it neat. It’s about slowing down enough to notice where our words come from, what they carry, and whether they still serve the depth of what we’re trying to name.

Language isn’t tidy. It’s layered. It's historical. It's relational. And that’s exactly why it matters.

If we’re serious about doing things differently — in our bodies, our relationships, our communities — then the way we speak about healing needs to reflect that too. Not with perfection. But with presence.