Making Trauma Healing More Accessible: Understanding EMDR and the Butterfly Hug
In a world where traumatic experiences are sadly all too common—whether due to violence, illness, disaster, or loss—finding accessible and effective mental health support is more important than ever. One approach that continues to stand out for both its effectiveness and adaptability is EMDR therapy, short for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing.
In a world where traumatic experiences are sadly all too common—whether due to violence, illness, disaster, or loss—finding accessible and effective mental health support is more important than ever. One approach that continues to stand out for both its effectiveness and adaptability is EMDR therapy, short for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing.
Recently, researchers Dr. Ignacio Jarero and Dr. Lucina Artigas compiled a bibliography of over 90 scientific studies that document the impact of EMDR protocols in a variety of global contexts. This blog post is designed to make that body of work more accessible for people both familiar and unfamiliar with EMDR. Whether you are a mental health professional, a trauma survivor, or simply someone curious about new therapeutic methods, this is for you.
What is EMDR Therapy?
EMDR is a structured therapeutic approach that helps people heal from the symptoms and emotional distress that result from disturbing life experiences. At its core, EMDR uses bilateral stimulation—typically in the form of eye movements, tapping, or auditory cues—to help the brain process and reframe traumatic memories.
Unlike traditional talk therapy, EMDR focuses less on verbalizing the trauma and more on how the brain can process it in a safe and contained way. This has made it particularly effective for treating post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), anxiety, depression, and other trauma-related issues.
The Power of Protocols: Breaking Down the Research
The bibliography compiled by Dr. Jarero and Dr. Artigas includes clinical trials, field studies, and international applications of various EMDR protocols. Here’s a breakdown of the main approaches and how they are being used:
1. ASSYST: Acute Stress Syndrome Stabilization
The ASSYST protocol is designed for early intervention, meaning it can be used soon after someone experiences trauma. It has been applied in diverse contexts, including:
Mental health support during COVID-19 lockdowns
Treatment for healthcare workers and first responders
Psychological care for refugees and victims of violence
Interventions for children and adults with non-recent trauma
One of the major strengths of ASSYST is that it can be provided remotely and in group settings, making it accessible even in emergencies or low-resource settings.
2. The Butterfly Hug: A Simple, Self-Administered Tool
The Butterfly Hug is a self-soothing technique that involves crossing the arms over the chest and gently tapping the shoulders—like giving oneself a hug. Developed as part of EMDR protocols, it’s easy to learn and can be used by children, adults, and even healthcare professionals.
Research shows that the Butterfly Hug helps reduce anxiety, increase self-acceptance, and provide emotional grounding. It has been used in:
Schools to help students manage academic stress
Hospitals to support nurses and doctors
Families coping with separation, illness, or grief
The simplicity of the Butterfly Hug makes it particularly powerful. People can use it anytime, anywhere, without needing a therapist present.
3. EMDR-PRECI: Protocol for Recent Critical Incidents
This protocol is specifically designed for those who have recently experienced traumatic events such as natural disasters, violence, or mass casualties. It provides a structured way to process the event quickly, potentially reducing the risk of developing long-term PTSD.
Studies have shown EMDR-PRECI to be effective with:
Survivors of massacres
First responders in crisis zones
Families of individuals with severe mental health needs
4. EMDR-IGTP: Integrative Group Treatment Protocol
When trauma affects large communities—such as war survivors, refugees, or those recovering from natural disasters—group-based treatment can be both efficient and therapeutic. EMDR-IGTP has been applied around the world, including:
Earthquake survivors in Italy and Turkey
Refugee children in Ethiopia and Spain
Adolescents and women recovering from abuse and exploitation
Healthcare workers during the COVID-19 pandemic
In many cases, this group protocol has been led by trained paraprofessionals, which expands its reach and scalability, especially in under-resourced settings.
Why This Matters
These EMDR-based methods are backed by science, tested globally, and adaptable to different populations and situations. They can be used in-person or online, in individual or group formats, and by trained professionals or paraprofessionals. This flexibility is key to making trauma treatment available to more people—especially those who might not have access to traditional therapy.
A Path to Healing
The message behind all this research is clear: trauma recovery doesn’t have to be complicated or out of reach. With tools like the Butterfly Hug and protocols such as ASSYST and EMDR-IGTP, individuals and communities around the world are finding effective ways to process their pain and regain control of their emotional lives.
If you or someone you know has experienced trauma—recent or past—these EMDR methods may offer a practical and evidence-based path toward healing.
For those interested in exploring the full list of studies and clinical trials, the complete bibliography is available on ResearchGate.
Why EMDR Feels Too Good to Be True—Until It Happens to You
We’ve been conditioned to believe that growth has to be long, hard, and painful to be real. That suffering earns us transformation. That struggle proves we’re worthy of relief. So when something actually works—and works fast—we don’t trust it. We call it suspicious. We label it “woo woo.”
But maybe the problem isn’t that EMDR doesn’t work. Maybe the problem is that we’ve built an entire culture around earning our right to feel better.
What if everything you’ve been taught about how to handle pressure, move through blocks, and overcome adversity… is a lie?
A respected voice in the personal development space sat across from me at a private dinner and said,
“EMDR sounds too good to be true.”
As I heard him say it, I was surprised—especially given the praise he often gives to the work of Joe Dispenza. But in that moment, I saw something else: a mirror. A gift, really.
He was showing me what so many people still believe. The old me would’ve gotten defensive. Would’ve tried to prove my case.
But I’ve done this work long enough to recognize what that was: unconscious resistance.
I see it every day in my therapy rooms. I see it in the most elite performers.
The Olympians. The pro athletes. The CEOs who’ve achieved the 1%.
And I’ve come to know that resistance intimately—because I’ve lived it.
I was the most resistant client… until EMDR showed me how to be with everything I was running from.
So instead of convincing him, I planted a seed.
I know, deep in my bones, that when people reach a plateau—when they’re tired of feeling how they feel—something shifts.
The “stuck” eventually pushes them to seek a different way forward.
When they’re ready, they’ll come.
We Don’t Trust What Comes Easy
We’ve been conditioned to believe that growth has to be long, hard, and painful to be real.
That suffering earns us transformation.
That struggle proves we’re worthy of relief.
So when something actually works—and works fast—we don’t trust it.
We call it suspicious. We label it “woo woo.”
But maybe the problem isn’t that EMDR doesn’t work.
Maybe the problem is that we’ve built an entire culture around earning our right to feel better.
EMDR doesn’t ask you to suffer longer.
It asks you to feel what you’ve avoided—and then let it go.
That’s not easy.
And the truth is, freedom is on the other side.
I’ve Been There Myself—More Than Once
I first tried EMDR in my late teens, after the death of my father. I had been in the room when he passed, and while that moment was sacred, the image of his body afterward became stuck in my mind. I couldn’t remember him smiling—only that final moment. EMDR helped shift that. Not by erasing the memory, but by releasing its emotional grip.
Years later, I came back to EMDR—this time to process the impact of my career. Two decades in elite sport took a toll I hadn’t fully seen until I stepped away. Somewhere in that mission, I had started to sacrifice parts of myself. Eventually, it all caught up.
Then came the birth of my twins. Four kids under five.
2020 lockdown. Postpartum fog.
This time, I said yes to EMDR training—not because I felt clear, but because I was trying to outrun the fog. What I didn’t expect was how that training would turn inward.
The reason I know so much about protection and resistance is because I’ve felt them in my own body. I know what it’s like to sit across from someone holding it all in—because I remember what happened when I finally stopped holding it together and let myself feel what I had repressed.
It’s Not Woo Woo—We’re Just a Culture That Fears Feeling
Let’s be honest: EMDR looks strange.
You’re tapping, tracking your eyes back and forth, or hugging yourself while recalling painful memories. It doesn’t look clinical. It doesn’t sound scientific. It definitely doesn’t feel like the traditional sit-on-the-couch-and-talk therapy most people expect.
So when people call it “woo woo,” it’s not always about facts.
Often, it’s about fear.
We live in a culture that’s deeply uncomfortable with emotion.
We’ve been taught that to move forward, we should move on—power through, don’t dwell, keep going.
Most people who dismiss EMDR aren’t just skeptical of the method.
They’re skeptical of feeling itself.
They’ll say things like:
“It’s not that bad.”
“Why go back? That was years ago.”
“I’m fine.”
But being “fine” isn’t the same as being well.
And moving on isn’t the same as moving through.
In a suppression culture, we’re taught to function over feel. We push down grief, stress, fear, and trauma—and call it resilience. But unprocessed pain doesn’t disappear. It just gets buried deeper, where it leaks into our relationships, our leadership, our bodies, and our work.
EMDR is confronting—not because it’s mystical, but because it asks us to feel what we’ve learned to avoid.
When People Say “It Didn’t Work”—Let’s Talk About Dissociation
One of the most common things we hear is:
“I tried EMDR, and it didn’t work for me.”
And sometimes, that’s valid.
But often—especially when someone says this quickly, dismissively, or without curiosity—there’s something deeper going on.
It’s not always that EMDR didn’t work.
It’s that the system wasn’t ready to let it work.
This is where dissociation comes in.
Dissociation is a psychological defense mechanism—a way the brain protects us from overwhelming experiences. It allows us to disconnect from thoughts, emotions, memories, or even our sense of identity, especially in response to trauma or intense stress. On the surface, it might look like zoning out or “spacing,” but it can also show up as memory gaps, emotional numbness, or feeling like you're observing your life from the outside.
In the moment, dissociation helps us survive.
But in healing work, it can block access to the very emotions and memories EMDR is designed to process.
That’s why advanced EMDR training matters—because what looks like resistance is often deep nervous system protection. And protection doesn’t yield to logic—it softens when the system feels safe.
When someone says, “It didn’t work,” it’s worth asking:
Was the system actually ready to feel? Or was it still protecting itself from what it couldn’t yet face?
What the Research Really Says
EMDR is not new—and it’s not fringe.
It’s been clinically studied for over 35 years and is supported by hundreds of peer-reviewed studies across trauma, anxiety, grief, and more.
In just the past few years, 91 peer-reviewed publications have specifically examined early EMDR interventions like ASSYST and the Butterfly Hug method (Dr. Ignacio Jarero, 2021)—approaches now used in disaster zones, refugee camps, and mass trauma response efforts worldwide.
And increasingly, EMDR is being integrated into workplace mental health programs, leadership coaching, and executive wellness. From frontline staff to C-suite executives, it’s helping organizations reduce burnout, clear chronic stress responses, and support employee performance at scale.
EMDR has been recognized by every major global authority in trauma care, including:
The World Health Organization (WHO)
The U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs (VA)
The Department of Defense (DoD)
And by clinical leaders like Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, who found that 90% of single-trauma clients no longer met PTSD criteria after just a few sessions.
EMDR doesn’t erase your memories.
It helps your brain process them in a way that finally allows for integration.
And when that happens—freedom becomes possible.
Final Thoughts
One of the most beautiful things I witness in my work is this:
What happens when EMDR meets the stuck places.
Because trauma doesn’t fade on its own.
It freezes.
It tucks itself into your nervous system and waits.
And when it’s triggered? It takes over.
Have you ever been in a fight and thought,
“Why am I acting like a child?”
“Why are they acting like a child?”
It’s because those wounded parts of us never got to grow up.
They’ve been waiting—for safety. For permission. For someone to help them feel and release what they never could before.
No matter how destructive a situation becomes, the fear that keeps us stuck is often the same:
The fear of being alone.
And that fear? Runs deep.
Shock is Survival. Shifting the Brain Demands Early Intervention.
When something traumatic happens—like the crash this weekend in Vancouver—the body and brain react instantly. Shock floods the system.
Your breathing changes. Your heart races. Your muscles lock up or go limp. Your brain imprints the event automatically, without permission or warning.
This isn’t weakness. This isn’t something you can simply "power through." This is survival.
A Note Before You Read:
What I’m about to share may be uncomfortable for some. It might brush up against old bruises or even trigger fresh ones.
I invite you to read my words carefully—and stay with me.
I’m not writing this to provoke, criticize, or sensationalize.
I’m writing because it’s time we shift the way we attend to, talk about—and understand—situations just like this.
The Truth About Shock and How to Shift
This weekend in Vancouver, BC, during Lapu-Lapu Day a Filipino cultural festival, a car speed into a group of pedestrians.
It was sudden. Violent. Shocking.
By morning, the headlines had already appeared:
"Our hearts are with the victims."
"We send our thoughts and prayers."
We mean well when we say these things. But if you've ever been in shock—real, bone-deep shock—you know: Words like these don't reach the places that hurt most.
Shock is not just emotional. It’s biological.
It imprints instantly, deep into the brain and body, whether we want it to or not.
This is survival at work—and survival is not weakness. But what we call "resilience" in our culture is often just endurance. We praise people for pushing through while their nervous systems silently shatter inside.
Today, more than ever, I urge you to stop offering hollow words—instead, I invite you to dig a little deeper and understand the real impact of unprocessed shock in our communities. Because surviving is not thriving. And thriving doesn't happen by accident. It happens by choice—a choice we all can make when we open up to a different way of attending to traumatic events.
Shock Is Biological, Not Weakness
When something traumatic happens—like the crash this weekend in Vancouver—the body and brain react instantly. Shock floods the system.
Your breathing changes. Your heart races. Your muscles lock up or go limp. Your brain imprints the event automatically, without permission or warning.
This isn’t weakness. This isn’t something you can simply "power through." This is survival.
Our emergency responders know this. It’s why ambulances often carry blankets for victims—and stuffed animals for children—to provide comfort and stabilization in those critical first moments.
But what many people don’t realize is that the body isn’t the only system that needs immediate care. The brain needs it too.
Blankets warm the body. They do not release the shock trapped in the nervous system.
Without intentional intervention, the brain holds onto what it witnessed—sometimes for a lifetime. The research shows we have about 90 days after a traumatic event to help the brain reprocess and release the imprint before it locks in permanently.
Ninety days. That’s the window. That’s the opportunity.
And yet... how often do we encourage people to seek real support after shock?
More often, we offer talk-based therapies—inviting people to tell and retell their story—believing that speaking about it will heal it.
But the science tells a harder truth:
Talking without targeted brain processing can actually re-traumatize.
Every time a person reactivates the memory without completing the healing loop, the distress pattern strengthens.
What you may not know is this: Your brain holds not just the memory of the current shock, but the echoes of every past moment you were overwhelmed, hurt, or helpless.
Trauma is cumulative.
And it doesn’t have to happen directly to you. Simply witnessing someone else’s pain—like reading the morning’s headlines about Vancouver—is enough for your brain to imprint the experience.
No matter how strong you believe you are, the truth remains: Your brain imprints whether you like it or not.
No one is immune.
Today, we must especially honour the truth that Vancouver’s Filipino community is carrying more than just the memory of a tragic incident.
They are carrying the rupture of what was meant to be a day of pride, joy, and togetherness.
Cultural spaces are supposed to be sacred. When violence pierces those spaces, it doesn't just injure bodies—it injures trust, belonging, and collective safety.
Healing this kind of wound requires more than words. It requires real care—for the body, the brain, and the community itself.
The Shift Change 3-Step Protocol: How to Attend to This Moment and Many More to Come
We have created a clear, actionable protocol based on evidence from the World Health Organization (WHO) and leading trauma research. Here’s how to begin attending to the immediate and lasting impacts of shock:
Step 1: Shift Quick
Attend a Shift Change ASSYST Session within two weeks of the event.
Immediate intervention helps interrupt the brain’s trauma loop, reducing the chance of long-term impacts.
Step 2: Shift Often
Continue attending weekly Shift Change ASSYST sessions until your symptoms resolve.
Regular, ongoing EMDR reprocessing helps your nervous system fully reprocess the trauma and build resilience. Think of it like building a new muscle—we can't just do one workout and expect muscles to grow.
Step 3: Shift Systems
Recognize when deeper or ongoing support is needed.
If your symptoms, such as flashbacks, nightmares, sleep disturbances, anxiety, or panic attacks persist, additional intervention is required. Ideally, your distress level should drop to between 0-3 on a scale of 10. If it doesn't, your brain needs more targeted support.
Research shows that with early intervention (like Shift Quick), only 10-20% of individuals need further intervention. However, if shock remains untreated, trauma imprints deeply, significantly increasing the likelihood of chronic anxiety and PTSD.
To everyone who has noticed the imprint of this event today, I am speaking to you.
To the ones who have chosen to "not think about it," or turn away, I am whispering to you.
We can't hide.
When we understand that early intervention is critical, we choose freedom over suffering.
I ask that you share this message today.
Share something you learned.
Let’s not ask victims to relive their stories. Let’s not rely on the media to fill the gaps of stories that were never theirs to tell. Let’s process the event first, then and only then when the person is ready to share can we honour and listen.
Let’s shift — together on tap at a time.
At Shift Change, we exist to awaken a world where healing begins before the breakdown—where no one has to suffer in silence or wait until they fall apart to receive care. By replacing stigma, isolation, and inaccessibility with anonymous, neuroscience-backed EMDR support, we help transform pain into possibility—and build a future where every generation can thrive.
Sitting at My Fire
Have you ever heard people say, “This happened for you, not to you”, or “everything happens for a reason”?
I remember hearing that long before I began any of my healing work. And to be honest—it used to make me mad. Enraged in fact.
Have you ever heard people say, “This happened for you, not to you”, or “everything happens for a reason”?
I remember hearing that long before I began any of my healing work. And to be honest—it used to make me mad. Enraged in fact.
When my dad died at 18, people would say, “One day, this thing—your dad dying—is going to help so many people.”
And I wanted to scream.
Because in the midst of my grief and sorrow and the overwhelming unfairness of it all—I couldn't see it. I couldn’t even reach for that idea. I felt so unseen.
People would say things like, “This will pass” or “It won’t always hurt this much.”
I think they meant well. I think they were trying to offer hope… trying to help me see that it wouldn’t last forever. But in those moments when my heart was breaking open and I was drowning in sorrow—it wasn’t helpful.
Why?
Because it felt like they were trying to get me to skip the feeling.
To skip the sitting.
To skip the fire.
They wanted to fast-forward to healing, without sitting in the grief.
There was no one helping me process.
Just people trying to get me to the other side without actually walking me through the middle.
And so… I buried it.
Because I thought that’s what I was supposed to do.
Every time something painful happened, I buried that too.
No one had modelled how to sit with the ache.
So I just... kept burying.
Back then, I didn’t know there were ways to heal that didn’t require talking about the pain.
I didn’t know support could look so different—quiet, tapping, and deeply effective.
I recently returned from Sanibel, Florida.
If you’ve never been, let me tell you—there’s magic in the sand there.
The beach is scattered with the most extraordinary seashells.
Every time you walk along the water’s edge, there’s this little flutter of wonder:
What will I find today? What’s waiting for me beneath the surface?
If you bring a little shovel and start digging, you’ll find thousands of hidden shells beneath the sand.
And it hit me.
That’s what healing work is like.
When we finally decide to go beneath the surface—when we dig—we discover all these buried parts. The shells. The wounds. The live wires.
They’ve just been sitting there.
Quiet. Hidden.
Until something touches them. And then—zap.
A trigger.
A reaction.
A flood of emotion.
A behaviour we don’t quite understand.
And most of the time, it’s happening unconsciously.
Because like me, many of us were never taught how to sit with the pain.
We were never given the gift of witnessing.
So we buried it.
What I’ve come to know—deep in my bones—is this:
In order for something that’s happened to us to transform into a teaching or a gift,
we first have to heal it. Sit with it. Really SEE it.
Only then—only then—can we begin to see the wisdom inside it.
The pattern. The meaning. The deeper purpose.
And here’s the beautiful part: when we do that work, when we sit with our wounds instead of burying them, we gain something priceless—the ability to hold space for others.
I’ve noticed this in my work, especially when someone comes into session who’s lost a parent at a young age.
I can feel that pain.
Not as a live wire anymore. But as something integrated. Something softened.
And that’s not just because time has passed.
It’s because I’ve done my own healing work—specifically through EMDR.
It’s been transformative for me—because I had no idea what was under the surface.
I didn’t realize I was holding so much.
Through EMDR, I was able to see and make sense of why I felt the way I did.
I was able to let go of so much I didn’t even know I was carrying.
And because of that, I can now offer presence—not reactivity.
I don’t hijack someone’s story with my own. I don’t bleed into their pain.
Instead, I witness it.
I hold it.
I stay.
And in that space, they get to discover their own knowing.
That human connection—the one that whispers you’re not alone—that’s everything.
What I see in the world, over and over, is this:
When we don’t heal our own buried pain, we struggle to meet others in theirs.
We lose our capacity to connect with suffering.
Not because we’re bad or broken, but because somewhere inside, there’s a voice saying,
“Well, no one helped me through my pain. Why should I help them through theirs?”
And so, we harden.
We look at homelessness and feel disgust.
We see addiction and feel anger.
We witness mental illness and feel judgment.
But underneath all of that?
It’s just the echo of our own unmet pain.
It’s the body remembering how it wasn’t held.
It’s the nervous system still on guard.
These buried wounds—they don’t just disappear.
They show up in the body.
They show up in relationships.
Sometimes they show up as tumours. As illness. As anxiety that won’t quit.
People ask me all the time:
“Is it possible to change the imprint? To heal what happened?”
And my answer is always:
Yes.
But only if we’re willing to attend to the pain first.
Only if we’re willing to stop burying, and start sitting.
So if you’re in it right now… if you’re considering beginning… if you’ve already started walking this road—I just want you to know:
You're not alone.
And healing doesn’t require you to talk about everything.
It doesn’t require you to rip the wound open again.
But it does ask you to sit.
To notice.
To feel.
And maybe—just maybe—to let someone sit beside you while you do.
From my heart to yours,
Kara
P.S. If you're feeling overwhelmed or unsure where to begin, our free group EMDR session might be the softest place to start. You don’t need to talk or share your story. Visit www.shiftchange.life to learn more.
The Fear of Being Alone: The Hidden Pattern That Keeps Us Stuck
When I wake in the mornings, in that soft, dreamy theta state, I often receive downloads. Insights that speak to the deep work I do—with myself, and with the brave humans who sit across from me.
Recently, I’ve started recording them as voice notes. Because sometimes what comes through isn’t just for me.
When I wake in the mornings, in that soft, dreamy theta state, I often receive downloads.
Insights that speak to the deep work I do—with myself, and with the brave humans who sit across from me.
Recently, I’ve started recording them as voice notes. Because sometimes what comes through isn’t just for me.
The other morning, I received this:
The Fear That Keeps Us Stuck
Why do we stay in relationships that no longer serve us?
Why do we cling to patterns that quietly hurt us?
Why do we struggle to leave situations that make us feel small, unseen, or disconnected?
Because the fear of being alone can be paralyzing.
It can feel overwhelming. Consuming.
It doesn’t whisper—it screams.
At some point in our lives, we’ve all suffered alone. And in those moments, we made a decision:
“I never want to feel this way again.”
So we stay.
We settle.
We shrink.
Because even the pain of staying feels safer than the fear of leaving.
The Early Wounds We Carry
Many of us were raised in homes where behaviour was punished, not understood—
Timeouts. Spankings. Cold silence. Emotional withdrawal.
We weren’t taught that we were having a hard time. We were told we were the problem.
When our caregivers pulled away, we didn’t question them. We questioned ourselves.
“I must be bad.”
“I must not be lovable.”
“Something’s wrong with me.”
Those early fractures—those tiny heartbreaks—created deep grooves in our nervous systems.
And our child brains, still under construction, did their best.
Some of us became fixers.
Some became rebels.
Some learned to numb.
Some stopped speaking.
But all of it? Was survival.
Why We Stay Stuck
This is how we develop patterns of staying in relationships, jobs, and roles that harm us.
Because leaving can feel like
another wound,
another rejection,
another abandonment.
Even when it’s the right thing. Even when we know we’re ready.
But What If We Don’t Want to Go Back?
For many, revisiting childhood wounds feels like opening Pandora’s box.
“It’s in the past—I’m fine.”
“What good will it do now?”
But those attachment fractures?
They’re still there.
Running silently in the background.
Shaping our fears. Our choices. Our relationships.
That’s how trauma gets passed down. Not just in our blood—but in our behavior.
The Cycle of Unconscious Living
Generational trauma lives in the patterns we don’t see.
It lives in the things we normalize:
Silence. Shutting down. “Toughing it out.” Overachieving. Avoidance.
Sometimes we don’t want to blame our parents.
Other times, we keep blaming them.
Maybe we don’t want to do the work.
But unprocessed pain doesn’t disappear.
It gets passed on.
To our children.
To our partners.
To ourselves.
Processing is not just for you.
So if not for you—
Be curious for them.
Stuck and Frozen Parts
One of the most beautiful things I witness in my work is this:
What happens when EMDR meets the stuck places.
Because trauma doesn’t fade on its own.
It freezes.
It tucks itself into your nervous system and waits.
And when it’s triggered? It takes over.
Have you ever been in a fight and thought,
“Why am I acting like a child?”
“Why are they acting like a child?”
It’s because those wounded parts of us never got to grow up.
They’ve been waiting—for safety. For permission. For someone to help them feel and release what they never could before.
No matter how destructive a situation becomes, the fear that keeps us stuck is often the same:
The fear of being alone.
And that fear? Runs deep.
Processing Begins with Curiosity
In my therapy rooms, I always invite curiosity.
Not shame.
Not blame.
Not embarrassment.
Just:
When did this pattern begin?
How far back does it go?
Is there a memory connected to it?
Generational trauma may not start with us.
But healing can.
Resource Recommendation:
Want to dive deeper into attachment?
I highly recommend Attached: The New Science of Adult Attachment by Dr. Amir Levine & Rachel Heller.
It’s available in print and on Audible.
My Own Journey to Being Alone
When my marriage ended, I was terrified of being alone.
Not just uncomfortable—terrified.
Like, jump-out-of-my-skin kind of fear.
One day, I had the thought:
“I want to go for a hike in the forest.”
I mentioned it to a friend.
They replied simply:
“Then go.”
But my brain screamed:
“Alone? Are you insane? I can’t do that!”
I had spent years avoiding silence. Avoiding stillness. Avoiding… me.
But something inside whispered: Try.
So I did.
I committed to one small thing:
Every Friday, I’d go to the forest.
At first, it was awkward.
Lonely.
Uncomfortable.
But I kept going.
I walked.
And as I walked, I spoke—voice-noting my thoughts, my grief, my growth.
I created rituals. I printed those words. Released them into water. Let go.
And then… I fell in love.
With my own company.
With the stillness.
With me.
A Mountain Worth Climbing
Last April, I challenged myself again.
I hiked Machu Picchu.
That mountain became a symbol—of every step I’d taken to learn how to walk through life on my own.
Reaching the top wasn’t just about the view.
It was about arriving back to myself.
To my heart.
To my desires.
To my worth.
And somewhere along the way, in the silence of that sacred place,
I began to hear the whispers.
The ones that only come when we’re quiet enough to listen.
Coming home to myself wasn’t easy.
But it was everything.
So incredibly worth it.
When Grit Isn’t Enough: Understanding Trauma and True Resilience
From streamlining our schedules to summarizing complex ideas in a few words, we’re always looking for ways to make life easier to understand. And while simplicity can be helpful, it also has its limits—especially when it comes to tricky topics like trauma.
We live in a world that loves simplicity. From streamlining our schedules to summarizing complex ideas in a few words, we’re always looking for ways to make life easier to understand. And while simplicity can be helpful, it also has its limits—especially when it comes to tricky topics like trauma.
Trauma isn’t something we can neatly categorize or reduce to a single definition. Yet, our brains naturally try to make sense of it, often assigning labels or creating shortcuts to explain what it means.
Here’s the catch: as soon as we hear the word “trauma,” many of us have an immediate reaction. Maybe it brings up thoughts of extreme events like war or natural disasters. Perhaps you picture a particular moment from your own life. Or maybe you think, “my life isn’t that bad compared too…”
But what if we got curious? What if we took a deeper look, beneath the surface?
Defining Trauma
Trauma is often defined as a deeply distressing or disturbing experience. But that definition doesn’t quite capture the full picture.
At its core, trauma is less about what happened (the event) and more about what happened inside of us. Trauma is the brain and body’s way of protecting you during a time of overwhelm. It creates an imprint on the brain, leaving behind patterns that shape how we think, feel, and react.
Importantly, trauma isn’t just caused by dramatic, life-threatening events like natural disasters or abuse. It can also stem from quieter, everyday moments where we felt unseen, unsupported, or unsafe. Where there wasn’t an empathetic witness to our suffering.
Now pause and think about this for a second. If trauma is determined by how the brain and body respond—by the impact rather than the event itself—then does the idea of "push through," "grit," or "bear it" really do anything? Nope.
In fact, those approaches often reinforce the stress and prevent healing because they ignore the imprint left behind on the brain and body. Trauma isn’t something you “power through”—it’s something you process, release, and heal.
Small “t” Trauma and Big “T” Trauma
To understand trauma more fully, it helps to think of it in two broad categories:
Big “T” Trauma
These are significant, life-altering events that often threaten your physical safety or sense of security. Examples include:
Surviving a car accident.
Experiencing physical or sexual abuse.
Being in a war zone or natural disaster.
Experiencing a birth trauma or anything related to the fertility journey
Big “T” trauma is what many people think of when they hear the word “trauma,” and it’s often linked to conditions like Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
Small “t” Trauma
These are less obvious but just as impactful—if not more so—when they happen repeatedly over time. Examples include:
Being repeatedly criticized or dismissed as a child.
Experiencing social rejection, like being excluded or bullied at school.
Struggling with chronic stress at work or in a toxic relationship.
The Research: Studies have shown that repeated small “t” traumas can actually have a greater long-term impact on the brain than a single big “T” trauma. When the brain is exposed to ongoing stress without an opportunity to recover or process, it becomes wired for survival, constantly on high alert. Over time, this can lead to issues like chronic anxiety, depression, and difficulty trusting others.
PTSD, Complex Trauma, and Vicarious Trauma
Trauma affects everyone differently, but there are three specific types of trauma that are worth understanding:
PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder)
PTSD occurs when the brain and body remain stuck in survival mode long after the traumatic event is over. It can feel like the trauma is happening in the present moment, even if it occurred years ago.
Common symptoms of PTSD include:
Flashbacks or intrusive memories.
Avoiding reminders of the trauma.
Hyper vigilance (always feeling on edge).
Emotional numbness or disconnection.
PTSD often stems from big “T” traumas, but small “t” traumas—especially when repeated—can also lead to similar symptoms.
Complex Trauma
Complex trauma occurs when someone experiences repeated or prolonged exposure to trauma, often in relationships or environments that were supposed to feel safe.
Examples of complex trauma include:
Growing up in an abusive or neglectful household.
Being in a controlling or abusive relationship.
Living in unsafe environments for an extended period of time.
Unlike PTSD, which is often linked to a single event, complex trauma is the result of patterns of traumatic experiences that shape how we see ourselves and the world. It can lead to struggles with trust, self-worth, and emotional regulation.
Vicarious Trauma (Secondary Trauma)
Trauma doesn’t always have to happen directly to us to leave a mark. Vicarious trauma occurs when we absorb the stress, pain, or suffering of others—especially when we are repeatedly exposed to it.
This type of trauma is common for people who work in caregiving, helping, or frontline professions. Examples include:
First responders and police officers who witness distressing scenes or hear traumatic accounts while on duty.
Healthcare providers who see patients in pain, repeatedly experiencing life-threatening conditions or loss. Being threatened by clients during a shift.
Therapists and social workers who listen to stories of abuse, loss, or extreme hardship.
Parents or partners who emotionally support a loved one experiencing trauma, especially when they feel helpless to "fix" the situation.
Vicarious trauma doesn’t mean you’ve done something wrong—it’s a reflection of your empathy and human connection. But if left unaddressed, it can create symptoms similar to direct trauma, such as emotional exhaustion, feelings of helplessness, or even avoidance of situations that remind you of the pain you’ve absorbed.
A Personal Discovery of Trauma
When I was in grad school, we had a course on trauma. Our instructor was incredible in her teachings, having spent many years working in the field, but she was also very rigid in her belief that only people who specialize in trauma should work in this area.
I remember leaving that class terrified to ever work with trauma. Instead of feeling curious about what courses I could take next to deepen my learning, I thought, I am never going to work with trauma. Ever.
I laugh at that now because, as I began my career in private practice, I realized that every single person who walked through my door was holding trauma. It wasn’t always the big, dramatic events I had imagined—so often, it was the smaller, quieter experiences that created suffering.
I knew that if I wanted to truly help people, I needed to equip myself to work with trauma. At this point, I understood that I had experienced a big “T” trauma with the passing of my dad to cancer when I was 18. But I had no idea what was waiting for me on the other side of “equipping myself.”
As I dove into the work, I began learning about big “T” and small “t” traumas and how trauma often happens when there’s no witness—when no one is there to help us process or hold space for our pain. Slowly, many small “t” traumas from my own life revealed themselves. And none of them looked like what I had been taught to think of as trauma.
The good news is, that uncovering and working through my traumas didn’t take me out. I survived. It’s the work I’ve done in the trenches, both personally and professionally, that shaped my life’s purpose. The business I’ve built, and the support I now provide—all grew from this journey of facing and healing my pain.
Trauma Is Part of the Human Experience
Trauma isn’t a sign of weakness, nor is it something to be ashamed of. It’s a reflection of how deeply our brains are wired for survival.
But just as trauma is part of being human, so is healing. By understanding trauma—what it is, how it works, and how it impacts us—we can bring the unconscious to the surface. Knowledge is power. Therefore the more we know and understand, the more power we have to take action to change our lives. As Maya Angelou said “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better. Do better!
What If Talking Is a Privilege?
What if talking—the ability to express, label, and name your feelings—is actually a privilege? What if you grew up in a home where emotions weren’t discussed or modelled, where no one gave you the words to connect what you were feeling to what it was called?
What if talking—the ability to express, label, and name your feelings—is actually a privilege?
What if you grew up in a home where emotions weren’t discussed or modelled, where no one gave you the words to connect what you were feeling to what it was called?
What if, instead of learning how to understand and process your emotions, you grew up in systems that medicalized your experiences, diagnosed your struggles, and labeled your pain—but never taught you how to move forward, how to heal, or how to thrive?
What if you were taught to ignore the pain, to push it down, to act as if it didn’t hurt? What if you were told to “be tough,” “suck it up,” or “be a man”?
What if the people you turned to for help—parents, teachers, even therapists—didn’t have the capacity to hold your pain because no one had held theirs?
What if the systems we’ve historically relied on for care are broken, unable to provide the help we truly need?
And what if talking—so often framed as the foundation of mental health conversations—feels too overwhelming, too unsafe, or simply out of reach?
A Way That Doesn’t Require Words
What if healing didn’t require you to talk?
What if, instead of words, you could access your own intuitive wisdom—guided by gentle tapping, rhythmic movements, or a process that helps your body release what it’s been holding?
What if these simple, non-verbal techniques could open a doorway to a deeper understanding—a connection to what you need, what you feel, and how to move forward?
What if healing didn’t flood your nervous system with overwhelm, but instead calmed it enough that, one day, you could tell your story, if you wanted to?
What if there’s another way?
There is another way.
Dear Bell, Let’s Talk About the People Who Can’t Talk
Your initiative is incredible—it has opened doors for so many to speak openly about their struggles. But there are countless others who can’t talk yet, who don’t have the words or the safety to share their pain.
What if, instead of talking, we tapped instead?
What if we could help people heal without needing them to say a word?
It’s time to expand the conversation and recognize that healing doesn’t always start with words. Sometimes, it starts with a quiet shift—with a gentle process that helps the body let go, one tap at a time.