The Breath Between Shock and Holding Steady
As Shift Change expands into corporate spaces, we are seeing the profound impact of attending to shock immediately. Anonymous groups after critical incidents have shown us how quickly relief, release, and gratitude arrive when people feel safe.
This summer, I experienced the same truth at home. One morning, while my kids were at their dad’s house, my son found that one of his bunnies had been taken by another animal. I wasn’t there. When I learned what happened later in the day, my whole body reacted. I knew he would be holding it inside—trying not to show what he was feeling.
By the time he was dropped off to me, after camp, he collapsed in my arms. He’s eight. In that moment I felt both the ache of not being there and the urgency to help his system release what it had been carrying all day.
I gathered all four of my kids and together with their dad we sat on their trampoline. I ran a kid-friendly Shift Now session—we tapped, and they cried, screamed, and sobbed together. The rawness of their release was the same I’ve witnessed in adult clients carrying pain for decades. Two hours later, their bodies were steady again.
That moment reminded me: when we don’t tend to shock right away, grief turns into confusion—“I should have,” “It’s my fault.” And confusion is what creates the trauma. Children especially need adults to help them regulate, because their brains are still developing until around age 27. Yet too often, adults are coping themselves, and kids become the afterthought.
This is why our work at Shift Change exists: to help the breath return, to let the nervous system settle, to move from shock to steadiness.
Now, we’re expanding this into a new offering: The Breath Between—in-person gatherings where we will pause to honour endings. Whether it’s a breakup, divorce, death, or even the quiet closure of a chapter, these moments deserve tending.
I’d love your input:
Would you be interested in attending The Breath Between gatherings in person?
Or would you prefer to join virtually and anonymously, like our Shift Now sessions?
Your feedback will shape how this next layer of Shift Change takes form.
SHIFT Now Session Times
We’re thrilled to offer weekly recurring SHIFT Now sessions!
SHIFT Now Session Times:
Mondays - 12pm PST
Tuesdays - 9am PST
Wednesdays - 11am PST
Thursdays - 12pm PST
Book of the Month
“The Wild Edge of Sorrow” by Francis Weller
This book speaks directly to the need for ritual and community in grief — exactly the essence of The Breath Between. Weller writes about how unprocessed grief lives in the body and culture, and how creating space to tend it allows us to reweave meaning.
Podcast Suggestion
‘On Being’ with Krista Tippett — Episodes with Francis Weller or Pauline Boss
These episodes explore ambiguous loss, the role of grief rituals, and what it means to make space for endings in a culture that rushes past them.
What I want to leave you with is this:
Life will continue to happen to us all. None of us are immune, and regardless of how skilled we are, we cannot bypass shock. The brain imprints it, and our systems need support.
This summer, I got to offer my kids something I never received. Not because I wasn’t loved, but because my parents didn’t know how.
In order to change systems—internally and externally—we must first learn that there is a better way. And as Maya Angelou says: “When we know better, we do better.”
May we consider this: when we say yes to us, we say yes to them—our children, and their children.
That is where the impact is.
Thank you for reading.
From my heart to yours,
Kara Kalin
Leaving Home, Carrying Weight: Honouring the Endings
Because every beginning deserves space for what came before.
Honouring the Endings
Transitions mark us. They can be thrilling, terrifying, and often, quietly heavy. Over the years, I’ve watched so many people—young and old—step into new chapters without anyone to witness what they were leaving behind. The endings go unhonoured, and the weight of that absence lingers.
For teens leaving home for the first time—heading to university, training programs, or other independent paths—the excitement of a “fresh start” often comes with an unexpected burden. Challenges from home, pressures to perform, and the responsibility of managing life on their own can follow them into this new chapter. Many carry anxiety, self-doubt, and a sense of “something is wrong with me” when what should feel like freedom feels heavy instead.
When I coached with Team Canada, I often saw athletes judged for not eating “well enough” or struggling with routines most adults take for granted—cooking, balancing time, caring for themselves. Many had never lived alone. For student-athletes—and really, for all students—this adds layers: maintaining grades, performing under pressure, and navigating independence simultaneously can feel isolating, overwhelming, and silent.
Sitting with young people navigating these moments reminds me of the adults I’ve worked with who never had this support—who had to carry the weight of transitions alone. These experiences shape us, often in ways we don’t fully recognize until years later.
John O’Donohue writes: “Every ending brings a new beginning. Yet we cannot move into the new without reverence for the old.”
This is why honoring thresholds matters to me. Not to cling to the past, but to give ourselves the chance to witness, process, and carry forward with awareness. For many of us, we never had it—so why on earth would we have the foresight to do this for our children?
A Tool for Teens in Transition: Shift Now
Over the summer, I have been sitting with this more. While Shift Change is anonymous, I am being called to bring an in-person gathering to the city—a place where transitions can be honoured. As I have sat with some of my teens who are transitioning and created a ceremony for them, I feel that many of us need this. The vision is not fully formed, but when it is, you will be the first to know.
Shift Now is a tool that my teen clients get to take with them. A space to log in when it all begins to feel too much. A few months back we started to integrate this into their transition plan. Many share how it has been a key piece of support they know they need. If you know a teen in transition, we would love for you to share this with them. May they be gifted with a resource to support them.
It gives us the grounding, the awareness, and the courage to step forward even when it's hard. To be reminded that if we can learn to find our feet, the power in that becomes unshakable.
SHIFT Now Session Times Are Live!
Whether you are a teen, a parent, or an adult navigating your own transition, our updated session calendar has space for you. From Shift Now resets to Shift Quick recalibrations and Shift Often rhythms, there is room to pause, reflect, and move forward.
SHIFT Now Session Times:
Mondays - 12pm PST
Tuesdays - 9am & 12pm PST
Wednesdays - 11am PST
Thursdays - 11am & 12pm PST
August Giveaway: Share Your Experience
We want to hear from you. If you’ve attended a Shift Change session, your voice matters — and sharing your story could help someone else find the courage to take their first step.
As a thank you, we’re offering a giveaway for the month of August!
By completing this survey and sharing your testimonial, you’ll be entered to win a free Shift Now session. Please note, while this survey is anonymous, please note your name in the testimonial box to be entered into the giveaway.
Journal Prompt
Think about a transition you’re in right now — or one you’ve lived through in the past. What did you have to leave behind in order to step into the new chapter? What part of that ending deserves to be honoured, even if no one else witnessed it?
Words of the Week to Carry With You
“Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is simply to pause at the threshold, acknowledge what we are leaving, and trust that we are strong enough to step into what comes next.”
From my heart to yours,
Kara Kalin & The Shift Change Team
How Music is Changing EMDR Therapy: A New Approach to Healing Trauma
How Music is Changing EMDR Therapy: A New Approach to Healing Trauma
We already know that Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) is a powerful, evidence-based therapy for trauma and PTSD. But what happens when we personalize it even more—using music as part of the healing process?
A new study has explored exactly that. It introduces a version of EMDR enriched with sound and music—known as EMDR+. And the early results are promising.
Why EMDR+?
Trauma affects how we think, feel, move, and even how we process sound and touch. EMDR helps reprocess traumatic memories using bilateral stimulation (usually guided eye movements). But this study asked: what if we also included carefully chosen music to support that reprocessing?
Turns out, music does more than just set the mood—it can enhance engagement, emotional regulation, and memory integration.
What Is EMDR+?
EMDR+ combines the standard eight phases of EMDR therapy with:
Personalized musical selections (a “Reward Song” for calm, and a “Key Song” linked to the trauma memory),
Bilateral auditory stimulation (ping sounds alternating between left and right ears),
And audio-visual integration, using light and sound together to support sensory regulation.
Every sound was chosen intentionally. Patients completed a musical preference test (MAAS) to help identify the music that would feel calming and supportive, as well as music that could safely evoke the traumatic memory.
What Did the Study Find?
Twelve participants with trauma-related symptoms—many of whom were caregivers or healthcare workers affected by the COVID-19 pandemic—took part in the study. Here’s what stood out:
Feasibility: 100% completed the full treatment, with no dropouts.
Safety: No side effects like nausea, dizziness, or headaches were reported.
Acceptance: Patients reported significant improvements in well-being, positive change, and reductions in anxiety and depression.
Effectiveness: On average, patients completed therapy in just 8.5 sessions—shorter than the typical 12-session EMDR protocol.
The effect sizes on standard trauma measures (SUD and VOC scales) were dramatic. In plain terms, people felt better—faster.
Why It Works
Music activates brain regions tied to reward, emotion, memory, and body awareness. By combining this with EMDR’s bilateral stimulation, EMDR+ helps:
Reinforce a sense of safety,
Improve the regulation of emotional and bodily responses,
Make the therapy feel more engaging and less intimidating,
And deepen the connection between therapist and client through a multisensory experience.
A Personalized Path to Recovery
Perhaps most importantly, EMDR+ makes the healing process more personal. Instead of using a one-size-fits-all sound or protocol, it meets each client where they are—emotionally, neurologically, and even musically.
This aligns with a growing movement in mental health care: personalized therapy, tailored to the nervous system, personality, and preferences of each individual.
EMDR+ isn’t just about adding music to therapy. It’s about using music strategically—to regulate the nervous system, enhance emotional safety, and support the deep, adaptive processing of trauma.
As we continue to explore the intersection of neuroscience, somatic therapy, and creativity, approaches like EMDR+ are leading the way in trauma recovery—quietly, powerfully, and personally.
For those interested in reading more about this topic, the complete article is available on ResearchGate.
EMDR Therapy for Children: A Promising Approach to Healing Trauma
When children experience trauma, it can affect everything from their emotions to their behavior and how they relate to others.
As mental health professionals look for effective ways to help young people recover, one therapy stands out: EMDR, or Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing.
You may have heard about EMDR in the context of adult PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), but research is increasingly showing that this therapy can also work wonders for children.
What Is EMDR?
EMDR is a structured form of psychotherapy developed in the late 1980s by psychologist Francine Shapiro. It's designed to help people process and heal from traumatic experiences. Unlike traditional talk therapy, EMDR involves guiding the client through mental images of distressing events while using rhythmic, back-and-forth stimulation—like following a therapist’s fingers with their eyes.
This technique helps the brain “unstick” traumatic memories and reprocess them in a more adaptive, less distressing way.
How Does EMDR Help Children?
Trauma in children can come in many forms—abuse, neglect, loss of a parent, natural disasters, or even medical trauma. Left untreated, these experiences can show up as anxiety, depression, behavioral problems, and difficulties at school or with peers.
According to the review, EMDR therapy has shown notable success in treating children with a range of mental health conditions, including:
PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder)
Depression
Anxiety disorders
Behavioral issues
Intellectual disabilities
What makes EMDR especially promising for children is that it’s a brief and structured therapy. Many kids experience meaningful improvements in a relatively short amount of time—and those results often last well into follow-up.
What Does the Research Say?
The review found that most studies report positive outcomes from EMDR in pediatric settings. Children often show reduced symptoms and improved emotional regulation. It's also adaptable—therapists can tailor it to suit different ages and developmental levels.
However, the review also highlighted a few limitations:
Many studies had small sample sizes
Some were exploratory and not large-scale trials
More robust, high-quality research is needed to fully confirm EMDR’s effectiveness in children
Despite these gaps, the evidence so far has been encouraging enough that EMDR is being labeled as a “promising” treatment in several clinical guidelines.
Why Use EMDR with Children?
Traditional talk therapy can be difficult for young children, especially those who struggle to express their feelings or explain what happened. EMDR gives therapists a way to work with the child’s brain and body, not just their words.
Because of its gentle, non-invasive approach, EMDR can often reach the emotional core of trauma without requiring a child to relive every detail of the event.
As EMDR becomes more common in adult therapy, the field is now pushing to expand access and research into pediatric populations. Researchers and clinicians are calling for:
Larger studies with better methodology
More research across different cultures and settings
Greater awareness among therapists and parents about EMDR’s potential for kids
Helping children recover from trauma isn’t just about managing symptoms—it’s about giving them the tools to grow into emotionally resilient, healthy adults. EMDR therapy offers a hopeful path forward. While more research is needed, the early results are strong: EMDR may help children not only heal from past pain but also build a brighter, more stable future.
If you're a parent, caregiver, or professional working with children, EMDR is definitely a therapy worth exploring.
For those interested in reading more about this topic, the complete article is available on ResearchGate.
Dismantling the Fairytale: A New Love Story
I grew up watching stories that taught me to wait for someone else to recognize it —the fairytales, the Disney movies, the myths that said love arrives when someone finally sees you, wants you, chooses you.
Can you remember the first time
you waited to be chosen?
I can.
I remember the silence.
The ache.
The hope.
That’s the fairytale I watched on repeat —
The princess who needs saving.
The prince who is the saviour.
The myth that love arrives
when someone finally says,
“You. I choose you.”
But what no one talks about
is the harm this story has caused us all.
The prince —
taught to be strong,
but never soft.
Taught to carry,
but never collapse.
Taught to save —
but never be saved.
He becomes the hero…
but loses the right to ask for help.
To be held.
To be vulnerable.
And the princess?
She’s taught to wait.
To be chosen.
To be rescued.
But never taught how to rescue herself.
Never taught how to stand,
or soften without disappearing.
And maybe—
maybe I speak for more than myself here—
I witnessed the women before me doing it all.
Raising children.
Working full time.
Carving space for themselves in systems
that were never built for them.
Their strength was breathtaking —
but it came at a cost.
There was no space left
for softness,
for stillness,
for emotional tending.
So I never knew what it was like
to be fully held.
Not in the way my heart needed.
And I learned strength,
but not how to soften.
I learned how to do,
but not always how to be.
I never knew what it was like
to be met by a presence
that stays by the fire —
quiet, steady,
unafraid of the dark.
But somehow,
through going back —
through tending to the younger parts of me
that were never held,
through having their heartbreak witnessed
and processed,
through the healing that EMDR made possible —
I’ve learned.
And because of that,
I can now show up differently
for my children.
They have been my greatest teachers —
not because they taught me how to stay,
but because healing has allowed me
to stay with them.
To soften.
To listen without fixing.
To hold without rushing the return.
What I never received,
I am learning to give.
And in giving it,
something in me is finally being held too.
We all experience heartbreak —
real, deep heartbreak.
The kind that takes our breath away
at stoplights.
In the quiet hours no one sees.
And the world?
It rushes us.
“Get over it.”
“You’re better off without them.”
“Time heals all wounds.”
So we numb.
With food.
With substances.
With scrolling.
With work.
With anything but stillness.
But no one tells us the truth:
That we can honour it instead.
Tend to it.
Hold it.
Witness it.
And what I now know to be true is this:
No one can meet us
in the depth of our hearts
unless they’ve journeyed
to the depths of their own.
That’s not love.
That’s longing — wrapped in abandonment.
So one day…
I stopped.
I stopped waiting.
Stopped hoping.
Stopped wishing.
Stopped praying for my life to be different.
I chose me.
And without even knowing it,
I started writing a new story.
One not built on waiting,
or rescue —
but on surrender.
A love story where:
Knowing my own heart
became the first vow.
Sitting with it daily.
Drawing a line in the sand.
And no one enters my life
without a willingness to do the same.
This is the new fairytale.
Not one where we are saved —
but one where we finally
save ourselves.
Where we walk forward —
not frantic,
but faithful —
heart in hand.
The greatest love story
is the one where we have met our hearts deeply.
Witnessed it.
Healed it.
And learned to hold it —
no matter who stays or goes.
May that be the story
I teach my children.
And their children.
From the quietest place in me…
to the tenderest place in you…
This is my offering.
The Silent Epidemic of Emotional Abandonment
The Many Faces of Abandonment
The seed of abandonment has many faces.
Sometimes, it’s as loud as a slammed door.
Sometimes, it’s as quiet as no reply.
And sometimes, it happens inside —
in the moment we silence our own truth
just to stay connected.
It took me years to see that abandonment wasn’t always something that happened to me — sometimes, it was something I unknowingly did to myself.
Not all at once, but in small, subtle ways:
choosing the comfort of others, trying to manage their pain in order to preserve connection — even if it meant that my heart and my needs were ignored.
The First Time Grief Entered the Room
I was five years old when I was told that Ryan had died.
We were standing at a crosswalk.
It was shared with me matter-of-factly —
as if a boy being hit by a car was something simple.
As if death was something a child could understand
without breaking open.
I remember the shock.
My breath caught in my chest.
My body froze.
Sadness. Numbness.
And a fear that instantly rooted itself in my stomach.
There was no space to process it.
No invitation to name what I was feeling.
I had no words for the fear —
no language for the weight I suddenly held.
So it lived in my body.
It stayed there, quietly shaping me,
until three years ago,
when I finally processed it with EMDR.
That night — and so many after —
I lay in bed wondering:
Will I die too?
Will others leave me?
Where do we go when we’re gone?
What happens then?
That fear didn’t fade.
It just got organized.
I became a school patroller.
Awarded “top patroller,” in fact.
The kid who made sure everyone crossed the street safely.
It wasn’t just a job — it was a vow.
To never let anyone else die on my watch.
To make sense of the senseless.
To create safety where there had been none.
I see now that I didn’t just join a group.
I became a protector.
A sacred keeper of the crosswalk — literal and emotional —
making sure no one else crossed over without being seen.
The Weight of Feeling Too Much
Somewhere along the way, I began to believe that something was wrong with me.
Why did I feel so much?
Why did I see what others couldn’t — or wouldn’t — name?
Why did the pain of the world sit so heavy on my chest?
I felt alone in it.
Like I was walking through life with open wounds no one else could see.
And because I didn’t know what to do with my own suffering,
I began to pour myself into the pain of others.
I became the holder.
The one who could carry the unbearable.
The advocate. The champion.
The one who would speak for what was silent in others,
because no one had done that for me.
My inner child — the part of me that had never been met emotionally —
found kinship in the wounds of others.
That was where I felt purpose. That was where I felt safe.
But when I tried to express my own pain?
I was met with:
“Maybe you need medication.”
“Maybe you should go on antidepressants.”
What I heard underneath that was:
You’re too much.
You’re not okay.
There’s something broken in you.
The shame of that landed deep.
So I buried it.
And what happens when pain is buried, but never processed?
It loops. It turns inward.
It metastasizes into self-hate.
I hated myself for feeling so deeply.
For not being able to “just be okay.”
For being the only one in the room who seemed to notice the grief under the surface.
When the Wound Reopens
Even now, when silence enters the room —
the kind of silence that follows a rupture, a withdrawal, a disappearance —
my inner child shows up.
She doesn’t walk in.
She bursts through the door, heart pounding.
She’s scared.
She remembers.
She knows it’s not safe to be here.
The anxiety starts to build.
The reaching, the hyper-awareness, the inner narrative of “What did I do wrong?”
It begins again.
It doesn’t matter how strong I’ve become.
In those moments, I’m five again.
Or fifteen. Or twenty-eight.
Trying to make sense of the ache that silence leaves behind.
But now, I don’t push her away.
I don’t silence her like the world once did.
I listen.
I breathe.
I hold her hand.
Grief, the Mountain, and the Unseen Threshold
This weekend, I hiked a mountain to mark the 24th anniversary of my dad’s death.
As I climbed, I could feel the weight of every time I had been left —
not just in death, but in disconnection.
In those quiet moments when you realize
the conversation won’t continue,
the relationship can’t return,
the old way is gone.
Halfway up the mountain, something ruptured.
A scream came — not directed at anyone.
Not even fully understood.
It rose from the body, not the mind.
It was ancient. It was holy.
That scream was the sound of all the times I stayed quiet.
All the times I made myself small.
All the times I left myself in search of belonging.
It wasn’t a breakdown. It was a breaking open.
It was the moment where the armour met the flame.
And when I reached the summit, I didn’t feel broken.
I felt forged.
If This Lives in You Too
If any of this lives in your body too —
if the silence has ever felt louder than the pain —
here’s what I did. And maybe it will serve you:
I let the emotion rise. No censorship. No judgment.
I screamed into a pillow. Gave it a place to go.
I tapped. Breathed. Let my body guide what my mind couldn't.
I named the wound: this is an old story — the story of abandonment.
I offered myself clarity — not from another, but within.
And when the desire for closure came,
I gave myself permission to ask for it — not to get an answer,
but to honour the part of me that no longer wanted to be left in limbo.
Sometimes healing is not about tying it up neatly.
Sometimes it’s about meeting the ache
without expecting anyone else to fix it.
And sometimes, it’s about finally seeing the pattern
— and realizing that what once felt like fate
is actually a choice.
Journal prompt:
Where does the seed of abandonment still live in me?
How do I respond when I feel the threat of being left — emotionally or otherwise?
What might it look like to stop waiting for someone else to come back… and instead return to myself?
This is the invitation.
To stop blaming the world for the wound.
And to start being the one who rescues your own heart.
Returning to the Fire
This piece was written beside the fire —
not the kind that destroys,
but the one that purifies.
This is the forge.
This is the flame.
This is what it means to attend to your beautiful, beating heart.
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.