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Relational Trauma Treatment: Why Evidence-Based Therapy Was Built for PTSD, Not the Trauma Most People Actually Have

Writer: Stephanie Underwood, RSW
Stephanie Underwood, RSW
Aug 14
16 min read

Updated: Sep 30

Written by Stephanie Underwood, MSW, RSW


Most trauma treatments like EMDR, CPT, and PE were studied for single-event PTSD, not relational trauma. In this blog post, we’re taking a look at the research gap, and what healing from relational trauma actually requires.


Concerned woman in a rust sweater sits on a couch with clasped hands, listening to a blurred therapist in a quiet counseling room.

Relational Trauma Treatment: Why Evidence-Based Therapy Was Built for PTSD, Not the Trauma Most People Actually Have





What Is Relational Trauma (and Why Is It Different From PTSD?)


The distinction between single-event trauma and relational trauma is the most clinically important distinction in the trauma field, and it is the one that is most consistently collapsed in both popular and professional conversations about treatment.


Single-event trauma, the category for which PTSD was originally defined and for which all of our evidence-based treatments were developed, involves exposure to a discrete, identifiable traumatic event or series of events. A car accident. A combat deployment. A single physical or sexual assault. A natural disaster. The trauma has a beginning and an end. The threat is external, identifiable, and in most cases, no longer present after the event. The experience overwhelmed the person's capacity to respond, and the symptoms that follow, flashbacks, hypervigilance, avoidance, arousal, reflect learned threat responses and predictions that continue after the threat has passed.


Relational trauma is categorically different. It refers to the chronic, repeated exposure to harm, neglect, or instability within a relational context that are supposed to provide safety. The source of the threat is not external. It is the attachment figure. The trauma does not have a discrete beginning and end. It is the relational environment itself, and the threat does not resolve when the event passes because the events do not pass. They become predictions - or reinforce existing predictions - for the brain to use in the future.


Judith Herman, who first proposed the concept of Complex PTSD in her 1992 work Trauma and Recovery, recognized that the clinical presentation of relational trauma differs fundamentally from single-event PTSD. She wrote that prolonged, repeated trauma produces changes in personality structure, emotional regulation, and relational capacity that are not captured by the PTSD diagnosis (Herman, 1992). The World Health Organization agreed, and in the 11th Revision of the International Classification of Diseases (ICD-11), Complex PTSD was recognized as a distinct diagnosis, separate from PTSD, characterized not only by the three core PTSD symptom clusters but by three additional clusters reflecting disturbances in self-organization: affective dysregulation, negative self-concept, and disturbed relationships (WHO, 2022).



DSM-5 book on a wooden desk with eyeglasses and a notebook, in a quiet office with bookshelves and soft window light.
The DSM-5 Manual, a comprehensive guide on mental disorders, sits on a wooden desk, reflecting its role in defining diagnoses like Complex PTSD, which remains unlisted as a distinct condition.

The DSM-5, notably, does not include Complex PTSD as a diagnosis. Bessel van der Kolk and colleagues proposed Developmental Trauma Disorder for inclusion in the DSM-5, backed by a field trial involving over 400 children, and the proposal was rejected (van der Kolk, 2014; Spinazzola et al., 2013). The absence of a relational trauma diagnosis in the DSM is not a clinical conclusion that relational trauma does not exist. It is a decision that has significant consequences for how relational trauma is researched, funded, treated, and understood, because the absence of a formal diagnosis means the absence of a research framework for developing treatments specifically designed for it.


This is the foundational problem. We have a diagnosis for single-event trauma, PTSD, and we have treatments for it. We have a diagnosis for relational trauma, Complex PTSD, in the ICD-11 but not in the DSM-5, and we do not have treatments that were developed, studied, or validated specifically for it. We are treating a condition that our diagnostic system has not fully recognized with treatments that were designed for a different condition, and the gap between what we are treating and what we are treating it with is the subject of this post.


The Evidence Base: What We Actually Have (and What We Don't)


The treatments that are most commonly recommended for trauma, EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing), Cognitive Processing Therapy, Prolonged Exposure, and Trauma-Focused CBT, share one critical feature that is rarely discussed in the popular conversation about trauma therapy: their evidence base was built almost entirely on single-event PTSD populations.


EMDR was developed by Francine Shapiro in the late 1980s and has accumulated a substantial evidence base for the treatment of PTSD. The studies that established that evidence base, however, were conducted primarily with populations who had experienced discrete traumatic events, combat, accidents, single assaults. The randomized controlled trials that demonstrated EMDR's efficacy for PTSD measured outcomes against the DSM criteria for PTSD, which are designed to capture the response to a specific, identifiable traumatic event (Shapiro, 2018).


Cognitive Processing Therapy was developed by Patricia Resick and colleagues specifically for the treatment of PTSD in sexual assault survivors, and its evidence base was subsequently expanded to include combat veterans (Resick & Schnicke, 1992). Prolonged Exposure was developed by Edna Foa and colleagues, again with a primary focus on PTSD as defined by the DSM (Foa et al., 1999). Trauma-Focused CBT was developed for children and adolescents with PTSD, again, within the PTSD diagnostic framework (Cohen et al., 2006).


None of these treatments were developed specifically for relational trauma. None were studied primarily with populations carrying the chronic, developmental, relational trauma that most therapists actually see in clinical practice. And while some research has begun to examine these treatments with complex PTSD populations, the evidence remains limited, preliminary, and far from the standard required to call these treatments evidence-based for relational trauma specifically.


This is not a criticism of these treatments. They have demonstrated genuine efficacy for the populations they were studied with. The criticism is of the assumption that efficacy for single-event PTSD translates to efficacy for relational trauma, an assumption that is not well-supported by the existing evidence and that is driving clinical practice in a direction the research has not validated.


Cloitre & Colleagues (2012) have conducted some of the most significant research on treatment for complex trauma, demonstrating that phase-based approaches, which begin with skills training in affective and interpersonal regulation before moving to trauma processing, may be more effective for complex PTSD than immediate trauma-focused treatment (Cloitre et al., 2012). This finding is clinically intuitive and consistent with what most experienced trauma therapists observe in practice: relational trauma clients often need significant preparatory work in stabilization and regulation before they can safely engage with trauma processing. But this research is still emerging, and phase-based treatment for complex PTSD has not been adopted as a standard of care in the way that single-event PTSD treatments have been.


Why EMDR Was Reclassified by the APA


In 2017, the American Psychological Association published its Clinical Practice Guideline for the Treatment of Post-traumatic Stress Disorder in Adults. The guideline strongly recommended four treatments: Cognitive Processing Therapy, Prolonged Exposure, Trauma-Focused CBT, and one specific medication (the SSRI fluoxetine). EMDR was given a conditional recommendation, which many in the field interpreted as a reclassification to second-line status (APA, 2017).


Orange and white capsules spilling from a pill bottle on an orange background, with 30 mg printed on some pills.
Fluoxetine was the one medication strongly recommended by the APA in 2017

The APA's stated rationale for the conditional recommendation was based on a systematic review of the available evidence. The guideline's methodology evaluated the strength of the evidence supporting each treatment and assigned recommendations accordingly. The strong recommendations were based on a larger and more consistent body of randomized controlled trial data. The conditional recommendation for EMDR reflected, in the APA's assessment, a somewhat less robust evidence base relative to the strongly recommended treatments.


The reclassification was controversial. EMDR proponents, including EMDR International Association (EMDRIA), noted that EMDR has received the highest level of recommendation in other clinical practice guidelines worldwide, including those from the World Health Organization, the UK's National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE), and the Department of Veterans Affairs (EMDRIA, 2017). A formal critique published in the Journal of EMDR Practice and Research argued that the APA's methodology may have undervalued the existing EMDR evidence and that EMDR's reclassification to second-line status was not justified by the data (Journal of EMDR Practice and Research, 2026).


When the APA updated its guidelines in 2025, EMDR's conditional, second-line recommendation was maintained, while CPT, PE, and TF-CBT retained their strong, first-line status. The continued placement of EMDR behind the cognitive-behavioural treatments was notable, particularly given that other international guidelines continued to classify EMDR as first-line. My clinical observation is that the APA's reclassification, whether intentional or not, may also reflect an implicit recognition that the evidence base for EMDR, like that of the other strongly recommended treatments, was built primarily on single-event PTSD. The question the field has not adequately addressed is not whether EMDR works for PTSD. The evidence for that is substantial. The question is whether it works for the kind of trauma that most therapists are actually treating, and the evidence for that is far less established.


I also need to be clear that this is my clinical perspective, not a definitive statement about the APA's reasoning. The APA's published rationale focuses on the strength and consistency of the evidence base, not on the type of trauma being treated. But the gap between the evidence base and the clinical reality is real, and it deserves more attention than the conversation about EMDR's reclassification has given it.


The Problem With Using Single-Event Treatments for Relational Trauma


The clinical problem is not simply that we are using treatments validated for one type of trauma to treat another. The problem is that single-event trauma and relational trauma produce fundamentally different patterns of memory, prediction, emotion, and relational adaptation, and the treatments designed for one may not address the adaptations produced by the other.


Single-event PTSD is, at its core, a disorder of memory processing. The traumatic memory has not been adequately contextualized as past, so cues associated with it continue to be interpreted as evidence of present danger, producing the flashbacks, hypervigilance, and arousal that characterize the diagnosis. Treatments like EMDR, PE, and CPT are designed to facilitate the processing of these specific traumatic memories so that they can be integrated into the person's autobiographical memory as past events rather than present threats. For single-event PTSD, this approach is clinically appropriate and empirically supported.


Relational trauma produces a different set of adaptations. A person who grew up inside an unsafe relational environment did not simply fail to process a specific memory. Through predictive processing, repeated relational experiences shaped an entire architecture of expectation about relationships, safety, and self-worth. These expectations are organized not around one discrete memory but across the person's relational life. The adaptations include attachment strategies, maladaptive schemas, chronic patterns of arousal or shutdown, difficulties with emotional regulation, and a disrupted sense of self that are not the products of a single unprocessed memory. They are the products of a developmental environment that repeatedly supplied evidence for predictions about whether relationships are safe, whether the self is worthy, and whether other people can be trusted.


Treating relational trauma as if it were single-event PTSD, which is what happens when we apply single-event treatments to relational trauma clients without significant adaptation, is like treating a chronic illness with a medication designed for acute symptoms. The medication may provide some relief. It may address some symptoms. But it does not address the underlying condition, and the relief it provides is often partial and temporary.


This is what I observe in clinical practice, and it is what many of my colleagues describe as well. Clients who have done EMDR for a specific traumatic memory and found that the specific memory lost its charge, but their overall relational pattern, their attachment strategy, and their baseline predictive model of relationships remained unchanged. The treatment worked for what it was designed to work on. It was not designed for what the client actually needed.


When Treatment Fails, Who Gets Blamed?


This is the part of the conversation that matters most, and it is the part that is almost never discussed in the literature on trauma treatment.


Healing from relational trauma is difficult enough on its own. The same relational predictions may have been reinforced for decades, and revising them requires sustained, consistent, lived experiences of relational safety over a long period of time. It is slow work, it is demanding work, and it requires a kind of patience and tolerance for uncertainty that is genuinely hard to sustain.


Now imagine that the person doing this work is also trying treatment after treatment, each one promoted as evidence-based, each one recommended by a therapist they trust, and each one producing partial or temporary results that do not address the core of what they are carrying. EMDR for the specific memories. CPT for the cognitions. PE for the avoidance. CBT for the symptoms. Each treatment addresses a piece of the picture, and none of them address the whole.


What do you think happens?


The person starts to blame themselves. Not the treatment. Not the evidence base. Not the gap between what the research studied and what they are carrying. They blame themselves, because they are the one variable in the equation that they can see, and because the narrative that they are not healing because they are too broken, too damaged, or too resistant fits predictive models of self and relationships that formed long before they entered therapy.


I'm not good enough. I'm not smart enough. I'm too broken. I'm treatment-resistant. No one can help me.


These are not just thoughts. They are schemas. They are the precise maladaptive predictions that the relational trauma produced in the first place. The defectiveness schema. The failure schema. The abandonment schema. The emotional deprivation schema. The very structures that the therapy was meant to heal are being reinforced by the experience of the therapy not working, and the person leaves treatment more convinced of their own fundamental inadequacy than when they entered.


This is the clinical consequence of the research gap. It is not a theoretical problem. It is not an academic concern. It is a problem that is being experienced right now, by real people, in therapy rooms everywhere, and it is a problem that the field has not adequately acknowledged.


When a treatment does not work, the question should not be what is wrong with the client. The question should be whether the treatment was designed for the kind of trauma the client is carrying. But because we do not have a research framework that distinguishes between single-event and relational trauma at the treatment level, the question defaults to the client, and the client defaults to the schemas, and the schemas get stronger.


Why We Need Research Specifically for Relational Trauma


The need for research specifically addressing relational trauma treatment is not optional. It is urgent, and it is urgent for three reasons.


First, many therapists, psychologists, and social workers are working with relational trauma, not single-event PTSD.


Bearded man in green shirt listens intently and gestures in a calm indoor conversation with a blurred woman in foreground

The Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) Study (Felitti et al., 1998) found that 67% of the general population reported at least one adverse childhood experience, and 12.6% reported four or more. ACEs were associated with significantly increased risk for depression, anxiety, substance use, and a wide range of physical and mental health outcomes. The CDC estimates that ACEs are attributable for approximately 30% of anxiety cases and 40% of depression cases in North America (CDC, 2024).


In clinical practice, the proportion of clients presenting with relational or developmental trauma is substantially higher than the proportion presenting with single-event PTSD. Most therapists I speak with, across disciplines and settings, report that the majority of their caseload involves clients with histories of childhood emotional neglect, chronic family dysfunction, parental mental illness or addiction, emotional or physical abuse, or attachment disruption. Single-event PTSD, while real and significant, is a smaller portion of what most clinicians actually see.


We are, as a field, treating a condition we have not adequately studied, and we are using treatments that were validated for a different condition. This is not a sustainable clinical framework.


Second, we are treating clients without a research-backed treatment for their specific type of trauma.


Technically, we do not have a single trauma treatment that has been developed, studied, and validated specifically for relational trauma through the kind of rigorous, large-scale randomized controlled trials that established the evidence base for single-event PTSD treatments. We have treatments that show promise. Schema therapy has demonstrated effectiveness for personality disorders and has been studied in the context of complex trauma (Bamelis et al., 2014;PMC, 2025). Phase-based approaches have shown encouraging results for complex PTSD (Cloitre et al., 2012). Emotion-Focused Therapy and attachment-based approaches have theoretical and emerging empirical support. But none of these have the kind of research base that would allow them to be called evidence-based for relational trauma in the way that CPT, PE, and TF-CBT are evidence-based for single-event PTSD.


This does not mean these treatments do not work. It means we do not have the research to prove that they do, and the absence of that research is not a neutral fact. It shapes what gets funded, what gets taught in graduate programs, what gets recommended in clinical practice guidelines, and what clients have access to through insurance and public health systems.


Third, the cost of the research gap is being paid by the clients.


Every client who tries an evidence-based trauma treatment designed for single-event PTSD, experiences partial or no improvement, and concludes that they are the problem is paying the cost of the research gap. Every client who has been through multiple therapists, multiple modalities, and multiple courses of treatment without sustained improvement is paying the cost. Every client whose schemas have been reinforced by the experience of treatment failure is paying the cost.


The research gap is not an abstract academic concern. It has a human cost, and that cost is being borne by the people who are most vulnerable, most in need of effective treatment, and least equipped to question whether the treatment they are receiving was designed for the kind of trauma they are carrying.


What Healing From Relational Trauma Actually Requires


Healing from relational trauma requires something fundamentally different from the processing of discrete traumatic memories. It requires the revision of baseline predictions about relationships, safety, and self-worth, and that revision does not happen through a single therapeutic intervention or a single course of treatment. It happens through sustained, repeated, lived experiences of relational safety that provide enough new evidence for predictive models to update over time.


This is the core principle of the Relational Safety Framework. Healing from relational trauma is not primarily a matter of consciously changing thoughts. It is a process of regulation and prediction updating through lived relational experience. Models of danger learned in relationships are most likely to be revised through new relational evidence, repeated consistently over enough time to change the underlying prediction.


This is why the therapeutic relationship itself is so central to the treatment of relational trauma, and why treatments that focus primarily on processing memories or challenging cognitions, while valuable for single-event PTSD, are often insufficient for relational trauma. The client did not come to expect that relationships are unsafe through a single event. That expectation formed through thousands of interactions over years of development. Revising it requires repeated interactions in the opposite direction, within a relational context that is safe enough, consistent enough, and sustained enough for new evidence to carry weight and predictions to change.


Phase-based approaches, which begin with stabilization and skills training before moving to trauma processing, are more consistent with this understanding (Cloitre et al., 2012). Schema therapy, which directly targets the maladaptive predictions formed in childhood and uses the therapeutic relationship as a corrective relational experience, is more consistent with this understanding (Young et al., 2003). Attachment-based therapy, which focuses on the relational patterns that organize the person's relational life, is more consistent with this understanding. But all of these approaches need more research, more funding, and more attention from the institutions that shape clinical practice.


The field needs to invest in the study of treatments designed specifically for relational trauma. Not adaptations of single-event treatments, but approaches developed from the ground up to address the specific adaptations that relational trauma produces: the attachment strategies, the schema structures, chronic patterns of arousal and emotional dysregulation, and the disrupted sense of self that are the hallmark of complex PTSD. The ICD-11's recognition of Complex PTSD as a distinct diagnosis was an important step. The research infrastructure to develop and validate treatments for it needs to follow.


A Final Note


If you have tried trauma therapy and felt like it did not work, I need you to hear something.


The problem may not be you. The problem may be that the treatment you received was designed for a different kind of trauma than the one you are carrying, and the field has not yet developed and validated the treatments that relational trauma specifically requires.


This is not your fault. You are not treatment-resistant. You are not too broken. You are not beyond help. You are carrying a kind of trauma that the mental health system has not adequately studied, and you are being offered treatments that were designed for a different kind of trauma, and the gap between what you need and what is available is real.


The healing is possible. Predictive models shaped by unsafe relationships can change when they are consistently met with new relational evidence. But healing requires the right kind of relational experience, sustained over enough time, in a context that understands the difference between processing a single traumatic memory and revising a predictive architecture formed inside unsafe relationships.


That work is happening. It is happening in therapy rooms where clinicians understand relational trauma, where the therapeutic relationship is recognized as the primary intervention, and where the goal is not the processing of a memory but the gradual revision of a prediction. It is happening in the research that is beginning to emerge on phase-based treatment, schema therapy, and attachment-based approaches for complex PTSD. It is happening, but it is happening slowly, and it is happening without the institutional support and funding that single-event PTSD research has received.


Until the research catches up with the clinical reality, the most important thing you can do is find a therapist who understands the difference between single-event trauma and relational trauma, and who is not going to blame you when the single-event treatments do not produce the results you need. You are not the problem. The evidence base is the problem. And that is a problem the field, not you, needs to solve.






References


American Psychological Association. (2017). Clinical Practice Guideline for the Treatment of Posttraumatic Stress Disorder in Adults. Washington, DC: APA.


Bamelis, L. L., Evers, S. M., Spinhoven, P., & Arntz, A. (2014). Results of a multicenter randomized controlled trial of the clinical effectiveness of schema therapy for personality disorders. American Journal of Psychiatry, 171(3), 305-312.


Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2024). Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs): About. Retrieved from cdc.gov/aces.


Cloitre, M., Courtois, C. A., Ford, J. D., Green, B. L., Alexander, P., Liebman, R., & van der Kolk, B. A. (2012). Treatment of complex PTSD: Results of an ISTSS expert consensus survey. Journal of Traumatic Stress, 25(6), 615-620.


Cohen, J. A., Mannarino, A. P., & Deblinger, E. (2006). Treating Trauma and Traumatic Grief in Children and Adolescents.Guilford Press.


EMDRIA. (2017). Clinical Practice Guideline for the Treatment of PTSD in Adults: APA. Retrieved from emdria.org.


Felitti, V. J., Anda, R. F., Nordenberg, D., Williamson, D. F., Spitz, A. M., Edwards, V., ... & Marks, J. S. (1998). Relationship of childhood abuse and household dysfunction to many of the leading causes of death in adults: The Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) Study. American Journal of Preventive Medicine, 14(4), 245-258.


Foa, E. B., Dancu, C. V., Hembree, E. A., Jaycox, L. H., Meadows, E. A., & Street, G. P. (1999). A comparison of exposure therapy, stress inoculation training, and their combination for reducing posttraumatic stress disorder in female assault victims. Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology, 67(2), 194-200.


Herman, J. L. (1992). Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence from Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. Basic Books.


Resick, P. A., & Schnicke, M. K. (1992). Cognitive processing therapy for sexual assault victims. Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology, 60(5), 748-756.


Shapiro, F. (2018). Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) Therapy: Basic Principles, Protocols, and Procedures (3rd ed.). Guilford Press.


Spinazzola, J., van der Kolk, B. A., & Ford, J. D. (2013). Developmental trauma disorder: A missed opportunity in DSM-5. Psychiatry, 76(2), 149-154.


van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking.


World Health Organization. (2022). International Classification of Diseases, 11th Revision (ICD-11). Geneva: WHO.


Young, J. E., Klosko, J. S., & Weishaar, M. E. (2003). Schema Therapy: A Practitioner's Guide. Guilford Press.













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