<![CDATA[EMBODIED PSYCHOLOGY

<![CDATA[EMBODIED PSYCHOLOGY - Blog]]>Wed, 22 Apr 2026 11:29:40 -0600Weebly<![CDATA[Riding the wave: When regulation meets reality in trauma-informed parenting]]>Thu, 16 Apr 2026 20:00:00 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/riding-the-wave-when-regulation-meets-reality-in-trauma-informed-parenting

Riding the wave: When regulation meets reality in trauma-informed parenting

The wave metaphor is ubiquitous in dialectical behavior therapy (DBT) and emotion regulation work. We tell clients to "ride the wave" of emotion, to notice it building, cresting, and eventually subsiding. Recently, I've been sitting with how this metaphor takes on profound complexity when we're working with parents who are navigating their own trauma responses while trying to co-regulate dysregulated children.

What happens when the waves keep coming? What does it mean to "ride the wave" when you're not just managing your own emotional experience, but simultaneously trying to keep your child from drowning?

The drowning person's dilemma

There's a reason lifeguards throw flotation devices rather than diving in to save drowning swimmers. A drowning person will pull you under. Not out of malice, but out of pure survival instinct.

This creates a profound paradox for parents: a dysregulated child naturally reaches for their primary caregiver, which is developmentally appropriate and actually a sign of secure attachment. But if the parent allows themselves to be pulled into that same dysregulated state, neither person can find their way back to regulation.

Maintaining your own regulation isn't abandonment: it's the prerequisite for effective support. But this kind of distance requires practice, often in the moment when everything in a parent's body is screaming at them to do something, fix this, make it stop.

The complexity: When waves keep coming

The standard wave metaphor assumes a certain rhythm: a wave builds, crests, crashes, and then there's a lull. But what I'm seeing in my work with parents, particularly those parenting neurodivergent children or parenting through their own trauma, is that the waves aren't isolated events—they're compounding.

Consider the parent who faces:

A toddler's bedtime meltdown that lasts 45 minutes, followed immediately by a partner conflict about parenting approaches.
A morning where one child refuses to get dressed while another has a sensory meltdown about breakfast textures, and you're already late for work.
An afternoon of sibling conflicts that escalate every 20 minutes, each one retriggering the parent's own childhood experiences of chaos.
The ongoing stress of advocating for educational supports, managing therapy appointments, navigating family judgment, and working a demanding job.

Each stressor is its own wave. But they're coming in sets, sometimes overlapping, sometimes one triggering another in rapid succession. "Riding the wave" becomes about building the stamina to handle wave after wave after wave, often while already exhausted, already depleted, already underwater.

When the body can't tell the difference

Here's what makes this particularly challenging: our bodies often struggle to distinguish real threat from perceived threat. When a parent's nervous system is already primed by their own trauma history, everyday parenting moments can trigger the same physiological response as actual danger.

A child's whining might activate the same fight-or-flight response as a genuine emergency. The chaos of morning or evening routines might feel, in the body, like a life-or-death situation. The parent's rational mind knows no one is actually in danger, but their nervous system is screaming otherwise.

This is where one of the most powerful interventions comes in: giving your body the message that there's no danger. When you can pause and ask yourself: "Is anyone actually drowning? Is this actually an emergency?", you're creating space between the perceived threat and your response. Often, the answer is no.

And then: "I can breathe. Air is coming." Not necessarily deep breaths or breathing exercises; just the simple reminder that you can breathe, that you're not actually suffocating, even when it feels like you are.

Learning to swim in shallow water first

We can't practice riding big waves when we're already drowning. We have to start with the "mild" ones—the everyday moments of dysregulation that feel manageable (or, at least, survivable).

You don't learn to swim in the deep end during a storm. You start in shallow water on a calm day. You practice when the stakes are lower. You build muscle memory.

For parents, this means practicing regulation strategies during minor frustrations, noticing what helps during smaller waves, building awareness of early warning signs, and celebrating small wins in our ability to tolerate the distress and reach for our own regulation tools.

Here's something genuinely hopeful: The nervous system is plastic. It learns through repeated experiences of going up and coming back down, building trust that waves pass, and developing somatic awareness of what helps.

Expanding the metaphor: The clinical challenge

In therapeutic work, riding the wave really means:

Recognizing when a wave is building: Noticing the early signs.
Positioning yourself to ride it: Moving with the wave rather than fighting it.
Trusting that waves pass: This intensity is temporary.
Building stamina over time: Gradually increasing capacity.
Knowing when to rest: Recovery isn't optional; it's essential.
Understanding you can't control the ocean: Waves will come, and that's not a failure.

As therapists, we hold multiple truths: Parents need to regulate themselves to co-regulate their children. Parents are often triggered by the very behaviors they need to stay calm through. The demands are often genuinely overwhelming. And yet, small changes in regulation capacity can make meaningful differences.

We can't fix the fact that waves keep coming. We can't eliminate the stressors in our clients' lives. But we can help them build capacity. We can witness their struggle. We can celebrate their resilience. And we can practice riding waves together in the safety of the therapeutic relationship.

Conclusion: The wave continues

The wave metaphor endures because it captures something essential: intensity builds, crests, and passes. Always. For parents navigating trauma, neurodivergence, and compounding stressors, it’s important to recognize it’s not just about one wave. It's about learning to swim in an ocean that sometimes feels relentless.

Maybe the goal isn't to reach some mythical calm shore where waves stop coming. Maybe the goal is to become someone who knows how to swim—who can stay on their own life raft, so they can throw one to their child.

That's the work. And it's profound work, even when it starts with something as simple as a breath, a pause, or a moment of distance that allows both parent and child to find their way back to regulation.

I'd love to hear from other clinicians: How do you work with the wave metaphor in your practice? What adaptations have you found helpful for parents navigating complex trauma and co-regulation challenges?

]]><![CDATA[The invisible inheritance: Why you can't heal your parents]]>Fri, 03 Apr 2026 20:59:38 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/the-invisible-inheritance-why-you-cant-heal-your-parents

Have you ever felt that it was your job to heal your parents? Often, children of emotionally immature parents grow up to believe that they alone can fix generational pain. This is an impossible—and unfair—burden that can keep us stuck in the same pattern.

So, how can we move forward with this invisible inheritance and create space for something different?

The weight you didn't know you were carrying

Imagine living underwater, where everything moves slowly and requires extra effort. You've been holding your breath for so long you've forgotten what it feels like to breathe normally. You're swimming constantly to keep your parents' heads above water, not realizing you're drowning yourself. The surface is right there, but you've been told (or believe) that if you come up for air, they'll sink.

You've learned to move in this underwater world. You've gotten strong from it, even. You can read emotional atmospheres instantly. You know how to manage other people's feelings. You're the one everyone comes to when things fall apart.

However, somewhere along the way, you absorbed a belief that was never true: "If I just swim hard enough, if I'm strong enough, if I try hard enough, I can keep everyone afloat. I can heal what's broken. I can finally bring us all to the surface."

The impossible math of generational healing

In many Indigenous traditions, there's a teaching about seven generations: the idea that the actions and healing (or harm) of one generation ripple forward and backward through time, affecting seven generations in each direction. The teaching reminds us that our decisions should consider their impact seven generations into the future, and that we are also shaped by seven generations of the past.

When applied to trauma and healing, this teaching reveals a profound truth: what we carry didn't start with us, and it won't end with us either. When adult children take on the role of emotional caretaker for their own parents—what psychologists call parentification—they're essentially trying to heal seven generations of pain by themselves, in one lifetime. They're attempting to be therapist, healer, and light-bringer for people who carry decades of unprocessed trauma, inherited from their parents, who inherited it from theirs.
The math simply doesn't work.

And yet, we try. We try because we love them. We try because we can see their pain so clearly. We try because somewhere along the way, their healing became our responsibility—and if we just work hard enough, give enough, sacrifice enough of ourselves, we can finally make them whole.

When empathy becomes a trap

Adult children of emotionally immature parents often become experts at understanding their parents' pain. We can recite the traumas: the alcoholic grandfather, the abusive household, the losses that were never grieved. We've spent years developing empathy for why they are the way they are.

This empathy can become a trap. Every time we start to feel our own anger or disappointment, we rush to explain it away: "But they've been through so much. How can I blame them? They're doing their best."

This is where we get stuck. We are so practiced at understanding our parents' pain that we forget we're allowed to have our own feelings about how that pain has affected us. We can acknowledge their trauma and be angry about how they've handled it. We can have compassion for their limitations and have boundaries about how much of their emotional chaos we'll absorb. Both things can be true.

Capability vs. choice: A crucial distinction

One of the most painful realizations for adult children of emotionally immature parents is this: our parents might not be capable of the healing we wish for them. Notice that's different from saying they're choosing not to heal.

When we frame our parents' avoidance as a choice, we stay stuck in a particular kind of hope: "If I just explain it the right way, if I just show them the right resource, if I just love them enough, they'll choose differently." We keep trying to convince them, inspire them, be the catalyst for their transformation.

What if it's not about choice? What if, given their history, their resources, their own unhealed trauma, their defense mechanisms that have kept them alive this long—what if this is actually their best? As sad and unfair as that is, and as much as we wish it were different.

This reframe isn't about giving up on our parents or writing them off. It's about releasing ourselves from an impossible task. It's about recognizing that they are their own people, on their own journey, with their own capabilities and limitations.

The guilt that keeps us stuck

Many adult children of emotionally immature parents describe feeling unable to fully live their own lives. They can't move to a different city, take a job opportunity or set boundaries without crushing guilt. The guilt is the enforcement mechanism. It's what keeps us underwater, believing that our parents' emotional survival depends on our constant attention and sacrifice.

Here's what we're not told: they were okay before we were born. They'll be okay if we step back. Not perfect; not healed, but okay. They've survived this long with their particular coping mechanisms—denial, avoidance, whatever it is. Those mechanisms aren't healthy, but they've worked well enough to get them to this point.

Our stepping back doesn't doom them. In fact, it might be the only thing that creates space for something different to happen. As long as we're there, managing their emotions, trying to heal them, they don't have to do it themselves.

Why understanding that you've been parentified isn't enough

Here's what often gets missed: You can understand the dynamic perfectly and still be completely stuck in it. You can know intellectually that you've been parentified. You can understand the generational trauma. You can articulate all of it clearly. However, understanding doesn't change the fact that, when your parent calls, your body immediately goes into caretaking mode. Understanding doesn't stop the guilt from flooding your system when you think about taking space.

These patterns aren't just cognitive—they're survival patterns encoded in our bodies from childhood. When we were young, our parents' emotional states actually were a matter of safety. An angry parent was dangerous. A depressed parent might not be able to care for us. A dysregulated parent created an unstable world. So, we learned to regulate them, to read their moods, to manage their emotions, to be what they needed us to be. Our nervous systems learned: "This is how I stay safe."

Changing that pattern requires more than insight. It requires giving our bodies new experiences—experiences of expressing anger safely, of setting boundaries and surviving, of letting our parents have their feelings without rushing in to fix them.

This is why somatic practices—movement, breathwork, body-based therapies—can be so powerful. They help us release patterns the mind has already recognized, but the body still holds.

What letting go actually looks like

Letting go of this impossible task doesn't mean abandoning your parents or stopping caring. It means:

Feeling your own feelings first. Before rushing towards empathy for your parents, allow yourself to be angry, sad, or disappointed.
Distinguishing between their energy and yours. Practice the awareness of "that's their feeling, this is mine".
Releasing responsibility for their healing. Accept that you cannot heal generations of trauma by yourself.
Setting boundaries without abandoning love. Learn that taking space doesn't mean you don't care.
Recognizing they're their own people, with their own journey, capabilities, and limitations.

This is what differentiation actually looks like—not cold separation, but clear distinction. Your parents are their own people. You're your own person. You can be in relationship without being enmeshed. You can care, without caretaking.

Here's the paradox many people discover: when they stop trying so hard to fix or heal their parents, when they allow themselves to step back and feel their own feelings first, they actually feel more loving toward them, not less. The resentment that had been building—hidden under layers of empathy and obligation—starts to dissipate. They can see their parents more clearly: not as projects to fix or burdens to carry, but as people with their own complex histories and limitations. They can love them and be angry at how they handled things. They can wish they would heal and accept that they might not be capable of it. They can maintain connection and have boundaries.

Coming up for air

If you're reading this and recognizing yourself—if you feel the pressure at this depth, that sense of being responsible for your parents' emotional well-being, that guilt when you think about living your own life—I want you to know: you're not alone, and you're not wrong for wanting something different.

The underwater world is real. The way these patterns feel like survival is real. Surfacing is possible. You don't have to heal seven generations of trauma by yourself. That was never your job. You're allowed to come up for air. You're allowed to be your own person, living your own life, with your own feelings and needs and boundaries. That's not abandonment, cruelty or selfishness. That's learning to breathe again.

To learn more about this dynamic, I recommend Lindsay C. Gibson's book Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents.

]]><![CDATA[Understanding hypervigilance: When your alarm system won't turn off]]>Fri, 06 Mar 2026 14:07:21 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/understanding-hypervigilance-when-your-alarm-system-wont-turn-off

Hypervigilance is a heightened state of alertness to potential threats. It is a common symptom of PTSD, anxiety disorders, and chronic pain. In this post, we’ll use the metaphor of an alarm system that won’t shut off to understand how hypervigilance works and how we can work with the adaptations we developed in order to feel safe.

Hypervigilance: The smoke detector that is too sensitive

Imagine a smoke detector in your home that goes off every time you make toast. It's doing its job—detecting particles in the air—but it can't tell the difference between breakfast and a five-alarm fire. You might find yourself disconnecting it out of frustration, or living in a constant state of jumping at false alarms. Hypervigilance is what happens when our internal alarm systems become overly sensitive to stimuli.

Whether you're living with chronic pain or the aftermath of trauma, your nervous system may have learned to sound the alarm at a volume and frequency that made sense once—but now interferes with the life you're trying to live.

The alarm that saved you: Your adaptations were answers

Here's something crucial to understanding hypervigilance: the strategies you developed weren't random, and they weren't character flaws. They were intelligent answers to real questions your environment was asking.

When someone grows up—or lives for an extended period—in circumstances where:

Safety is unpredictable
Pain is constant or recurring
Caregivers are unreliable or absent
Threats are real and present
Resources are scarce

... the brain does what brains do best: it adapts. Consider some of these common adaptations:

Hypervigilance is an answer to: "How do I see danger coming before it arrives?" When you couldn't rely on others to keep watch, you became the watchman. Scanning rooms when you enter them, checking locks multiple times, monitoring others' moods, tracking every sensation in your body—these aren't signs of weakness. They're signs that you learned to be your own early warning system.

Need for control is an answer to: "How do I create predictability in chaos?" When your world felt random and dangerous, creating order became a way to feel safe. Rigid routines, detailed planning, needing things "just so"—these provided a sense that if you could just control enough variables, you could prevent bad things from happening.

Self-reliance to the point of isolation is an answer to: "What do I do when help doesn't come?" When asking for support led to disappointment, rejection, or even danger, you learned to be a one-person army. You became someone who "handles it," who doesn't burden others, who powers through no matter what.

Constant movement or busyness is an answer to: "How do I outrun the feelings?" When slowing down meant confronting overwhelming emotions or physical sensations, staying in motion became a survival strategy. If you're always doing, planning, or achieving, there's no space for the pain to catch up.

People-pleasing or fawning is an answer to: "How do I stay safe around people who have power over me?" When conflict or disappointing others led to danger, you learned to read the room, anticipate needs, and shape-shift to keep the peace.

Numbing behaviors (whether through food, substances, screens, or other means) are an answer to: “How do I make unbearable feelings bearable?" When emotions or sensations became too intense and no one taught you how to process them, you found ways to turn down the volume.

These adaptations likely saved you. They helped you navigate impossible situations. They allowed you to survive when survival wasn't guaranteed. They may have helped you build a life that once seemed impossible—relationships, career, stability, moments of genuine joy. This deserves recognition. You developed these strategies because you were intelligent, resourceful, and determined to survive. They are evidence of your resilience, not your brokenness.

When survival strategies outlive their usefulness

Even though there is wisdom in the hypervigilant adaptations you developed to feel safe, the challenge emerges when the context changes but the alarm system doesn't. Your nervous system, having learned that the world is dangerous, continues to operate as if every moment requires that same level of vigilance. It can't easily distinguish between:

A genuine threat and a stressful but manageable situation.
Pain that signals injury and pain that's part of a chronic condition.
A person who might hurt you and a person who's simply having a bad day.
A change in routine and a genuine crisis.

The alarm that once protected you from disaster now goes off when you're “making toast”. This might look like:

Panic responses to minor schedule changes.
Physical pain that intensifies with stress, even when there's no new injury.
Exhaustion from constantly being "on".
Difficulty sleeping because your body won't believe it's safe to rest.
Relationships suffering because vulnerability feels dangerous.
Missing out on opportunities because the risk feels too great.

Moving forward: Recalibrating the sensitivity to danger

With hypersensitivity, the goal isn't to disconnect the alarm entirely—you need your ability to detect actual danger. The goal is to recalibrate the sensitivity so that your system can distinguish between different levels of threat. This process involves:

Recognizing the alarm for what it is. When your heart races because you're running late, or your pain flares when you're stressed, you can begin to notice: "My alarm is going off. Is this a fire, or is this toast?"
Acknowledging the wisdom of your adaptations. Rather than shaming yourself for being "too anxious" or "too controlling," you can recognize: "This made sense. This helped me survive. I developed this for good reasons."
Gently questioning whether the old answer still fits the current question. The environment that required constant vigilance may have changed. You might now have resources, safety, or support that didn't exist before. The question becomes: "Is this strategy still serving me, or is it costing me more than it's protecting me?"
Teaching your nervous system that it's safe to stand down. This happens through repeated experiences of safety, through practices that signal to your body that the danger has passed, and through gradually expanding your window of tolerance for uncertainty and discomfort.
Developing new answers to old questions. This doesn't mean abandoning your adaptations entirely—it means expanding your repertoire. Adding new strategies while honoring the ones that got you here.

You can hold both truths simultaneously:

These adaptations were brilliant AND they're now causing problems.
You needed hypervigilance then AND you deserve rest now.
Your pain was real AND your alarm system may be amplifying it.
You survived because of these strategies AND you can learn new ones.
You are incredibly strong AND you don't have to do everything alone.

Recalibrating an overly sensitive alarm system is gradual work. It requires patience, self-compassion, and often the support of someone who understands trauma and the nervous system. It means honoring the part of you that learned to survive while also making space for the part of you that wants to thrive. Your adaptations were never the problem. They were the solution to a problem that once existed. Now, you have the opportunity to update your system—not because you were wrong before, but because your circumstances have changed. The alarm that saved you doesn't have to run your life forever.

How this metaphor shows up in therapy

I use this metaphor regularly with clients because it accomplishes several important things:

It's non-pathologizing. We're not talking about what's "wrong" with you—we're talking about a system that's doing exactly what it was trained to do.

It honors adaptation. Your responses made sense. They were intelligent solutions to real problems.

It externalizes the problem. You're not an anxious person or a controlling person—you have an alarm system that's overly sensitive. This creates space between you and the problem.

It suggests possibility. Alarms can be recalibrated. Sensitivity can be adjusted. Change is possible without abandoning the protection you needed.

This metaphor works across contexts—whether someone is healing from trauma, managing chronic pain, recovering from addiction, or navigating anxiety—because it speaks to the universal experience of a nervous system that learned to protect us, sometimes too well.

If you're working with an overly sensitive alarm system—whether due to trauma, chronic pain, or other experiences that taught your nervous system to stay on high alert—please know that support is available. Working with a therapist who understands nervous system regulation, trauma-informed care, and chronic pain can help you begin the process of recalibration.

What adaptations did you develop that once served you but now feel like they're running the show? How might you begin to recognize them as answers rather than problems?

]]><![CDATA[Understanding how shame takes root and grows: A metaphor for therapists and clients]]>Mon, 23 Feb 2026 20:03:07 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/understanding-how-shame-takes-root-and-grows-a-metaphor-for-therapists-and-clients

Shame is one of those experiences that can be difficult to grasp—both for therapists and clients. It often hides beneath the surface; what we see are the various ways people have learned to protect themselves from its painful grip. I've been sitting with a metaphor lately that might offer a helpful way to understand shame's origins and its many manifestations. I'd love to share it with you and hear how it lands.

The seed: Shame's origins

Let's start by imagining shame as a seed planted from the outside—through experiences of being shamed, whether directly or indirectly. Perhaps it was:

A parent's look of disappointment
A teacher's public correction
A peer's rejection
A cultural message about who we “should” be
A moment of vulnerability met with judgment

This seed doesn't originate within the person; it comes from relational experiences and social contexts.

The plants: Shame's protective reactions

Because shame is so powerful—so threatening to our sense of self and belonging—the psyche develops protective responses. These are the “plants” that grow from that buried seed, each taking a different form:

The thorny rose bush (self-criticism): A dense bush where the thorns point inward, constantly pricking the person trapped within it. The person becomes their own harshest critic, attacking themselves before others can. “If I criticize myself first, maybe it will hurt less when others do.”

The thick hedge wall (withdrawal): A towering, impenetrable barrier of foliage that keeps others at a distance. The person retreats from connection, from vulnerability, from being seen. “If no one can see me, I can't be shamed again.”

The chameleon vine (people-pleasing): A climbing plant that wraps around whatever is nearby, changing color and shape to blend in perfectly. The person contorts themselves to meet others' needs and expectations. “If I can be what everyone needs, maybe I'll be acceptable.”

The carnivorous plant (attacking others): A plant that snaps at anything that comes near, projecting shame outward before it can land inward. The person criticizes, blames, or attacks others. “If I can make you feel small, I won't have to feel my own smallness.”

The smoke bush (dissociation): A shrub that produces wispy, cloud-like plumes that obscure its structure and create a hazy, dreamlike appearance. The person disconnects from their experience, creating distance and blur. “If I can't feel it, it isn't happening.”

What we see in the therapy room

Here's what's crucial for our work: we typically encounter the plants, not the seed. A client comes in struggling with:

Harsh self-judgment that seems “irrational”.
Difficulty maintaining relationships due to withdrawal.
Exhaustion from constantly accommodating others.
Conflict in relationships from defensive reactions.
A sense of being “not fully present” in their own life.

We can do meaningful work with these plants: helping clients understand their protective functions, developing compassion for these adaptations, perhaps even pruning them back or learning to work with them differently.

Getting to the root: The incomplete part of the metaphor

But here's where our metaphor becomes interesting in its incompleteness: how do we work with the seed itself? In gardening, you might dig up a plant to remove its roots. But in therapy, we're not trying to excavate and remove. Instead, perhaps we might consider:

Composting: What if therapy helps transform that shame-seed? Not removing it, but allowing it to break down in the rich soil of a therapeutic relationship, becoming something that can nourish rather than harm?

Companion planting: What if we help clients plant new seeds nearby—seeds of self-compassion, belonging, worthiness—that can grow alongside and eventually overshadow the shame-based plants?

Tending the garden: What if healing isn't about removing the seed but about changing the conditions of the garden? Creating a relational environment where shame-based plants can't thrive, while other ways of being can flourish?

Witnessing the seed's story: What if part of our work is simply helping clients excavate and examine that seed—not to remove it, but to understand its origins, to externalize it (“This was planted in you; it isn't you”), and to grieve what was lost when it took root?

Final words and questions

Our work with shame is complex and deeply individual. I'd like to invite you to take what's useful from this metaphor and leave the rest.

How does shame show up in your life or in your therapy room, and what helps you work with it? Here are some questions that I hope you can use for self-reflection. You're invited to share your thoughts in the comment section.

Reflection questions for clinicians

As you work with clients whose presentations might be understood through this metaphor:

What “plants” do you most commonly encounter in your practice?
How might naming these as protective responses to shame (rather than pathology) shift your stance and the therapeutic conversation?
What does it mean to work with the seed of shame in a way that honors externalization and re-authoring?
How do you create the relational conditions where shame loses its power?
When you notice a shame-based plant in session, how might you invite curiosity about the seed it grew from?

Reflection questions for clients

If this metaphor resonates with you, you might consider:

What “plant” feels most familiar to you? Do you recognize yourself in the thorny rose bush, the hedge wall, the chameleon vine, or another form?
When did you first notice this plant growing? What was happening in your life?
How has this plant protected you? What has it helped you avoid or survive?
What would it mean to tend to the seed beneath—to acknowledge where shame was planted in you from the outside?
What might you want to plant in your garden instead? What qualities or ways of being would you like to cultivate?

]]><![CDATA[Bridging intellectual understanding and somatic healing in trauma therapy]]>Tue, 17 Feb 2026 14:21:54 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/bridging-intellectual-understanding-and-somatic-healing-in-trauma-therapy

Bridging intellectual understanding and somatic healing to trauma therapy

Often, we know the truth of things that we can't make our body believe. Why does this happen? How can we bridge intellectual understanding with somatic healing in trauma therapy? I wrote this blog post thinking of people who are already familiar with social justice, collectivist, and anti-oppressive frameworks, but if that's not you yet, I hope this can be a starting point in your healing journey.

From knowing to embodying: The gap between head and heart

If you're reading this, you probably already know:

That boundaries are the distance at which you can love yourself and others simultaneously (Prentis Hemphill).
That what you pay attention to grows (adrienne maree brown).
That individual healing is collective healing.
That interdependence, not independence, is the goal.

And yet, knowing these things isn't enough, and it hasn't made the hurt stop. You can see the patterns clearly in others. You can hold space beautifully for your friends. You can articulate sophisticated analyses of power, trauma, and healing. But when it comes to your own body, your own relationships, your own boundaries, something blocks you from living what you know. This isn't a failure. This is trauma.

Your mind knows: "I deserve care and protection just like anyone else." Your body learned: "Others' needs are emergencies. Mine can wait. My safety depends on being small/helpful/perfect/invisible."

These body-level learnings happened before you had language, before you could think critically, before you knew about collectivism or boundaries or nervous system regulation. They live in your survival brain, not your thinking brain. No amount of intellectual understanding can override a survival response. You can't think your way out of what you didn't think your way into.

Why this matters for trauma work

When your therapist suggests EMDR or other trauma processing work, you might think: "But I already understand why I do this. I know it comes from my childhood/family/past relationships. I've read all the books. What's the point of going back into the past when the problem is still happening in my present relationships?"

Here's the thing: Understanding the "why" is important, but it doesn't change the "how":

You understand cognitively that you deserve boundaries → Your body still responds as if saying "no" is dangerous.
You know intellectually that not everyone will hurt you → Your nervous system still treats every relational moment like the original trauma.

Trauma processing work isn't about gaining new insights. It's about giving your body new experiences.

The collectivist paradox

You might resist individual healing work because it feels like:

Abandoning your values of collective care.
Accepting that you have to "fix yourself" while the systems that harm people remain unchanged.
Giving up on the possibility that relationships could be different.
Individualistic, Western, privileged thinking.

But here's what's actually true: individual healing IS collective work. When you heal your trauma response, you:

Break generational patterns: you're not passing this down to the next generation.
Model something different: your family, friends, community members witness new possibilities.
Create ripples: every interaction you have is different when you're not operating from survival mode.
Interrupt the cycle: you stop reproducing the dynamics that hurt you.

Tending to your trauma isn't selfish. It's necessary for the health of the whole system.

True collectivism includes YOU. There's something colonized about the idea that you have to keep sacrificing yourself for the collective. Absorbing everyone’s pain without tending to your own isn’t collective care or interdependence—it’s martyrdom. In truly collectivist cultures, everyone's needs matter, including yours. The elder is cared for. The child is protected. The person who is struggling is held. You don't have to earn your place in the web of care by being the one who gives endlessly. You’re just as much a part of the community as everyone else.

The both/and of healing

You can hold both truths: the wounding happened in relationship (with family, partners, community, systems of oppression) AND healing requires tending to what lives in your body (the trauma response, the nervous system patterns).

Others will continue to hurt and disappoint you sometimes (because humans are imperfect and many are also traumatized) AND you can change how much that destabilizes you (by healing the past wounds that make present hurts feel catastrophic).

You need community and collective care (we're not meant to do this alone) AND you need to strengthen your own root system (so you can stay standing when others are struggling).

When you're in session and thinking, "But what's the point of processing my past when the problems are still happening now?", remember:

You're not doing this to change other people.
You're doing this so others' behavior doesn't control your nervous system.
You're doing this so you can choose your response instead of being hijacked by your trauma.
You're doing this so the next generation doesn't inherit this pattern.

You're doing this because you deserve to feel safe in your own body.

Final words: Invitation and reflection

I'd like to end this post with an invitation for you.

What if healing your trauma isn't about:

Becoming invulnerable to hurt.
Never needing others.
Being "fixed" enough to handle difficult relationships.
Accepting that you just have to deal with it alone.

What if it's about:

Feeling the hurt without it destroying you.
Needing others from a place of strength, not desperation.
Having choices about how you engage in relationships.
Building the capacity to receive and offer care in sustainable ways.

Here are some additional questions you can use for reflection:

What would it mean for your relationships if you healed and others stayed the same?
What are you afraid you might have to do or choose if you had clearer boundaries?
Is there a part of you that is afraid that if you stop managing/fixing/absorbing, you'll be alone?
What role have you played in your family/community that might shift if you're no longer operating from trauma response?
What becomes possible when you're not in survival mode?

]]><![CDATA[Is "Parts Work" the right therapeutic fit for you?]]>Tue, 09 Sep 2025 21:19:07 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/is-parts-work-the-right-therapeutic-fit-for-you

Have you heard people talk about "Parts Work Therapy" and wondered what it meant? Parts Work is a symbolic model that gives us a language and framework to process our inner awareness, and it can help us reach our goals in therapy. Keep reading to learn more about it, get some resources, and find out if Parts Work may be the right therapeutic fit for you.

Meeting the parts that make us

I’ve always found myself naturally using “Parts Work” language in therapy to help give voice to the seemingly conflicting emotional experiences or desires that exist within us (e.g., “a part of you is really angry” or “a part of you wants to stay in this relationship and a part of you wants to leave”). I didn’t fully realize how others were approaching it until I listened to an episode of the Notice That EMDR podcast on ego state work.

At its core, Parts Work Therapy is based on the idea that we all have many parts inside of us, each trying in its own adaptive way to help us—even the “inner critic” or the parts that seem to cause harm. Every part developed to serve a need, and by understanding its origins and intentions, we can meet it with compassion and recognize when one part has taken over the “driver’s seat” or, in contrast, when one part has been relegated to the "back seat".

In Internal Family Systems (IFS), these parts have specific names (like managers, protectors, and exiles), while in other approaches—like Ego State Therapy (EST) or Emotionally Focused Individual Therapy (EFIT)—we may use our own intuition to describe and work with them.

What I love about Parts Work is its non-pathologizing foundation. It invites us to meet ourselves with compassion—not to battle or overcome our parts, but to truly see and understand them. If this resonates with you, you may want to look for a counsellor who specializes in this therapeutic tool to see if it might be a good fit for your needs.

Resources for Parts Work

Whether you are someone interested in seeking Parts Work Therapy for yourself, or a practitioner who might want to start using this tool with clients, here are some resources that might be a helpful starting point:

“Listening When Parts Speak: A Practical Guide to Healing with Internal Family Systems Therapy and Ancestor Wisdom” by Tamala Floyd: I love the guided imagery meditations she includes and have really been enjoying using them with clients.
Parts Work meditation: Dr. Cole at The Connection Clinic offers a guided grounding mediation rooted in the IFS framework that you can do in under 20 minutes.
For people who'd like to do a deep dive in Parts Work, consider connecting with Natalie Amber, a colleague who specializes in this area. Natalie is a CCC, so she can work with clients throughout Canada.
"Easy Ego State Interventions. Strategies for Working with Parts" by Robin Shapiro: I haven’t read this book yet, but I know a lot of therapists like it, so it might be worth checking out if you're a practitioner.

Questions for both clients and therapists: Have you tried the parts work approach? How did you feel? Did you find it useful to understand your experiences?

]]><![CDATA[What do “bottom-up” and “top-down” mean in therapy?]]>Tue, 09 Sep 2025 13:17:28 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/what-do-bottom-up-and-top-down-mean-in-therapy

In my previous blog post, I shared my thoughts on Accelerated Experiential Dynamic Psychotherapy, or AEDP, and explained that it's considered a "bottom-up" therapeutic approach. But what do "bottom-up" and "top-down mean" in therapy? In this post, I hope to help you understand the differences between these two approaches and see which one might be best suited for you.

Top-down processing: learning through information

Top-down and bottom-up are just two ways in which humans learn and process information. To understand how they work, it can be helpful to use the "triune brain" model, proposed by Paul D. MacLean in the 1960s. It's important to note, though, that this is a comparative model between species that is considered outdated as subsequent findings on evolution and neuroanatomy have been made. However, it can still help us visualize the human brain in a simplified way.

According to the triune brain model, we have three areas within the brain:

The "reptilian" complex: it's the basal ganglia, derived from the floor of the forebrain. It operates on instinct, so it's responsible for the functions of our body that help us survive.
The "mammalian" or paleomammalian complex: includes the septum, amygdalae, hypothalamus, hippocampal complex, and cingulate cortex, and it's also known as a whole as the limbic system. This area is responsible for processing our emotional and relational experience.
The "neomammalian" complex: or simply called the neocortex, this is the topmost and greater area of the brain. This is where thinking happens; it's responsible for our ability for reasoning, language, abstraction, planning, self-awareness, and perception.

If we think of this model, top-down means that processing happens in the neocortex, to exercise change in the lower areas of the brain. In top-down processing, we rely on forming new insights and cognitive understandings in order to shift how we feel. Here, it's the change in thinking that begins the process and leads to a change in emotions and body responses.

Top-down processing is cognitive—we learn through information. One way to easily remember how it works is this: top-down processing is reading about how to ride a bike.

Examples of top-down therapy:

Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy (CBT)
Trauma-Focused CBT (TF-CBT)
Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT)
Cognitive Processing Therapy (CPT)
Prolonged Exposure Therapy (PE)
Psychoanalysis
Solution-Focused Brief Therapy (SFBT)
Psychodynamic Therapy

Bottom-up processing: learning by doing

In bottom-up processing, we rely on having new felt experiences in the body, which in turn impacts how we feel and think. It uses felt experiences of safety, connection, and regulation and a change in our body state to alter how we see ourselves and the world.

Bottom-up processing is experiential—information moves from the lower brain to the neocortex. To continue the previous example, bottom-up processing occurs when we learn to ride a bike by taking our bike out and trying to do it.

Examples of bottom-up therapy:

Yoga
Somatic Experiencing
Eye Movement Desensitization Reprocessing (EMDR)
Accelerated Experiential Dynamic Psychotherapy (AEDP)
Sensorimotor Psychotherapy
Brainspotting
Focusing
Hakomi Method
Art Therapy
Drama Therapy
Dance/Movement Therapy
Play Therapy
Sand Tray Therapy
Equine-Assisted Psychotherapy

Which one is more effective at treating trauma?

I have many clients who come into the therapy room knowing, from a cognitive perspective, that rest is a good thing, that people should have rest, that overworking is related to capitalism, etc. And yet, on a body level they still feel uncomfortable resting. In those cases, the cognitive insight is there, but their felt sense of resting is still "it's not safe". This is when we would work with the body and use a bottom-up approach to help them actually feel safe with rest.

On the other hand, I've also had clients who've found a new way of thinking about things. For example, the idea that rest can help us to do the things we want to do actually makes them feel safer, because they'd never considered that perspective. In this case, the new way of thinking leads to actually feeling different—this would be top-down processing.

When we discuss trauma, we need to understand that it is stored in the body: it triggers physical responses and shuts down the rational parts of our brain. For this reason, top-down processing may result in changes of behavior and emotional reactivity over time. However, people with trauma have impaired capacity to integrate new information, because their bodies (or: the lower parts of their brains) react before the neocortex can process what's happening when they're triggered.

Bottom-up processing is emotional and sensorimotor: it starts with the body. A bottom-up therapeutic approach engages the body in the healing process so that it can become a safe place, and it results in new, adaptive cognitions and meaning for people with trauma. This doesn't mean that top-down processing isn't good for treating trauma: it means that it's most effective when it's combined with a bottom-up approach.

If you’ve tried a top-down therapy and it didn’t work for you as much as you hoped or you feel like you’d like to try something different, it might be a good idea to try bottom-up, or an integrated approach!

]]><![CDATA[Why AEDP feels like coming home]]>Wed, 13 Aug 2025 12:42:12 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/why-aedp-feels-like-coming-home

Why AEDP feels like coming home. Embodied Psychology.

Lately I’ve been reflecting on what makes therapy actually healing—not just helpful, but transformative. Therapy is like home to me. The longer I do this work, the more I believe in the power of being with someone, with intention. The more I slow down and attune, the more I see how transformative it can be for people to be deeply witnessed.

Last month I read Undoing aloneness and the transformation of suffering into flourishing, a book by Diana Fosha, PhD about AEDP, which I highly recommend to therapists. AEDP is a model of psychotherapy founded and developed by Fosha in 2000, and it's an acronym for "Accelerated Experiential Dynamic Psychotherapy", although today it is believed that the essence of the model has outgrown its original description. The AEDP Institute website describes it as "an experiential model that seeks to alleviate patients’ psychological suffering by helping them process the overwhelming emotions associated with trauma in a way that facilitates corrective emotional and relational experiences that mobilize positive changes in our neuroplastic brains."

Learning more about AEDP felt as if someone sat in my office and put words to the nuances of what I try to do every day. It reminded me that being present is the work. When sessions feel alive, when there’s real connection in the room, I leave changed, too. But how does AEDP work? What does “undoing aloneness” mean? And how can relational work help with emotional suffering? Here are a few reasons why AEDP feels so aligned for me.

1. It’s a bottom-up approach

In AEDP, like in Somatic Experiencing (SE) and EMDR, healing doesn’t come just from thinking about our problems or talking them through (though that can be useful). It comes from what happens in the body and in the present moment.

While insight can be powerful, I’ve often found that people already know a lot—they’ve read the books, made the connections, journaled for years. But insight doesn’t always shift the pain.

Bottom-up approaches work from the body’s internal experience—emotions, sensations, nervous system cues—and help the system find safety, integration, and healing from the inside out.

2. Healing is innate

A foundational belief in AEDP (and one that shows up in SE and Hakomi, too) is that the capacity to heal already lives in all of us. Our bodies are always moving toward healing—toward integration, connection, and wholeness—especially when we’re given the right kind of support: a safe enough space, and someone attuned to us.

This idea feels both hopeful and empowering. It’s not about fixing someone: it’s about helping them access what's already there.

3. Healing starts immediately

One thing I love about AEDP is that we’re not waiting months or years for the “aha” moment. The model is built around new, positive experiences happening right away—often in the first session. These are moments of being seen, felt, understood, cared for.

And those moments? They change the brain. Literally. Not just by giving insight, but by replacing aloneness with connection, fear with safety, and shame with resonance. It’s powerful to witness—and to feel.

4. It’s experiential and present-moment based

Rather than simply talking about past events and hoping for new insight, AEDP invites us to notice what happens in our bodies right now, as we talk about those events. What do you feel as you say that? What’s happening in your body? What’s it like to have me here with you in this?

This isn’t to stay in pain—it’s to open the door to something new: a shift, a release, a wave of emotion that finally moves through. The present becomes a place of possibility.

5. Neutrality is contraindicated

This might be one of my favourite AEDP principles. Rather than staying distant or blank-faced, AEDP invites therapists to be deeply attuned: emotionally present, responsive, real. We attune to pain, yes, but also to delight, to tenderness, to the moments of lightness.

And even more than that, we name the relationship as part of the healing. We ask: what’s it like to share this with me? What do you notice as I respond? Therapy becomes not just a solo processing space, but a space of connection. A place where we undo aloneness.

6. It’s all about co-regulation

Our nervous systems don’t heal in isolation. Through regulated, attuned presence, therapists help clients find grounding, not by teaching it from a distance, but by offering it in real-time.

This kind of co-regulation is powerful for people who’ve had to do so much alone. And it’s deeply relational—another reason AEDP feels like such a natural fit for how I already work.

Final words

Many of these principles aren’t new to me. They're rooted in other approaches I've trained in, and I see echoes of AEDP in them, like Somatic Experiencing, EMDR, Hakomi, healing shame work and Focusing. In AEDP, I see them woven together in a way that is beautifully integrated and deeply human, with intention and heart. That's why it feels like a kind of homecoming.

If you resonate with these ideas, I hope this gives you a bit more language for the kind of work we might do together.

]]><![CDATA[Setting boundaries that we can control]]>Thu, 19 Jun 2025 13:14:01 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/setting-boundaries-that-we-can-control

I set a boundary with someone and they didn't respect it. Now what? I think most of us imagine our ideal scenarios when we go to set boundaries for the first time. “The person will totally understand! They will accept my boundary and we’ll move forward! It will be a one-time conversation and I won't have to do anything else!”

Unfortunately, the ideal scenario is often not how it plays out, even with people who love us and want what’s best for us. It can take time to adjust to new situations, even for people who want to and are willing to work with us. However, a big part of what I work on with clients and supervisees has to do with setting boundaries that are actually under our control.

Let's review what boundaries are, why they're not the same as ultimatums, and what we can do to get clear on what we need.

My definition of boundaries

Boundaries are rooted in your needs, your values, and your own unique sense of what’s okay for you and what isn’t. We all have that understanding inside of us. And while our boundaries may change over time, we can understand them like this: Boundaries are the external expression of our internal limits.

What commonly happens is that, over the years, we internalize certain beliefs about setting boundaries that are actually rooted in capitalism, colonialism, and patriarchy: that we should always put others first, that setting boundaries is selfish, that it's not polite, that we should keep things smooth at all costs. We’re not taught how to listen to our needs, let alone speak them, and so we lose touch with what our boundaries are.

Working on your boundaries is learning to listen to and respect your own limits. This starts with believing that, just as all human beings are, you are worthy, and that you deserve to have your needs met.

Because we’ve all spent a lifetime learning to take care of everyone else before ourselves (especially those of us who’ve been socialized as female), when we start to turn toward ourselves, it's likely going to feel weird, selfish, and uncomfortable. This is no wonder: it’s so contrary to much of what we’ve been taught. But it doesn’t mean that you’re doing the wrong thing. Listening to your limits and acting in line with them isn’t selfish; it’s self-sufficient. Being able to choose where we put our time and energy while letting go of guilt and shame is a very healthy, adult thing to do.

The good news is that, the more you practice turning toward yourself, the better and more normal it feels. I hear this from my clients all the time—the first time can feel really uncomfortable, but you survive it. The next time is a little bit easier, and the next time after that is even easier, and so on. You realize that the world doesn’t fall apart just because you have needs, too.

What boundaries can we actually set?

We may feel even more discomfort after setting a boundary if we receive pushback for it, or we feel like our limits are still not being respected. However, we often try to enact what’s good for us and what we need by focusing on other people’s behaviour.

If you go to bed at 11pm and you don’t want to be woken up by texts pinging at you, you might be tempted to ask your friends, “Hey, can you keep in mind not to text me after 11pm?”. But this gives up a lot of power in the situation, because it banks on all of your friends remembering your sleep schedule and never making a mistake with it. You can take responsibility for your own sleep and health by turning your phone on silent.

Another example that often comes up in therapy has to do with being around difficult family members. It’s common for people who are working on their boundaries to say, “I’m not going to put up with insults, you can’t talk down to me, that’s not okay”. Unfortunately, while this should be enough, with certain people it isn’t—they're going to continue their behaviour regardless. So now we’re waiting for the other person to respect our boundaries, and we’ve made them responsible for our wellbeing. The way to put that back into something that is actually under your control is to be clear that, for example, if yelling occurs, you're going to leave the situation, and then the key is to actually leave.

This doesn’t always feel fair. We've already set the boundary! At the same time, though, it’s one of the most self-protective things you can do, rather than stay in a situation that is not good for you. This also means that you need to be ready to take that action on your own behalf, and if you’re not ready, that’s okay. In the meantime, focus on other, maybe smaller boundaries you can control: how long you stay at family events, how often you go, if at all, or giving yourself permission to leave the room for a few minutes.

Boundaries are all about being in touch with what our head, heart, and body are telling us, so in this way, it’s not about controlling what someone else does. Boundaries are not ultimatums. We can't demand, shame, manipulate or coerce people into giving us what we want or need.

Identifying what we need

As we work on boundaries, we may find that we've been acting out of sync with our internal sense of what's best for us. But because we're often so disconnected from our needs, it can be difficult to know what we really want in order to prioritize it.

Figuring out what we want is a good first step in setting boundaries. When we’re clear on what’s important to us, the path ahead becomes clearer. Here's an exercise to help you discover your values:

First, list your three most important values (e.g., stability, family, friendships, pleasure,creativity, health, adventure). If you're having trouble figuring out your values, you can use a values card exercise. I like this downloadable resource from Kerr Creative.
Now, list three things you want to say yes to, in line with each of those values (e.g., for the value of health, you might want to say yes to regular appointments with your health professionals, or for a value of adventure, the thing you’re saying yes to could include travel, or trying one new thing a month).
Finally, what do you need to say no to in order to say yes to everything you listed above? Write down 10 things you’re spending time, resources, or energy on that don’t fit with your values.

If this is helpful, you can download this exercise as a free printable worksheet. And if you'd like extra support on setting boundaries, I have a mini course called How to say no, where we learn more about listening to ourselves, making difficult decisions, and dealing with the guilt that comes up.

]]><![CDATA[The importance of boundaries for therapists]]>Mon, 12 May 2025 19:41:28 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/the-importance-of-boundaries-for-therapists

As a supervisor for Provisional Psychologists, I want to offer a vision of empathy that helps us stay connected with ourselves while also connecting with our counselling clients. One of the best ways to foster both kinds of connection over the long term is to develop and maintain boundaries that feel like a good personal fit. In this post, I offer some questions to help us develop a reflective practice so we can begin rethinking our boundaries in the counselling profession.

Developing a reflective practice

Reflective practice is a key component of professional growth and development. It’s also an ongoing journey that contributes significantly to our development as a therapist.

This practice involves examining some of the major societal messages we’ve grown up with regarding boundaries; specifically:

Valuing productivity over health.
Doing over being.
Putting others over ourselves.

Most therapists I know have encountered these messages in one way or another. Of course, they're also mitigated or aggravated by our histories and identities. The good news is that we can question whether the things we choose to do in our lives reflect values that we hold, or values that someone or something else has held over us. From there, we can begin to get choosy about which messages we want to hang on to and which ones we’re ready to let go of. And then, with time, we can work on believing something different as we rethink our boundaries.

Boundary practice that is rooted in our current values begins by asking ourselves these
important questions:

What am I willing and able to give?
What do I need?
What supports and nourishes me?

Importantly, the answers to these questions can and will change over time.

Protecting your emotional boundaries

In your work as a therapist, you may also want to ask yourself some questions about how you protect your emotional boundaries and well-being. Here are some prompts to get you started:

What helps you decompress between clients so you can be present and connected with the person in front of you?
What helps you decompress at the end of the day so that you can be present in the rest of your life?
How do you regulate your nervous system during sessions and help your body stay in the window of tolerance?
Do you have a containing practice of your own? What is it? If you don’t, or if you’d like to try a new practice, what could that look like for you?

Financial boundaries to bring clarity

In addition, if you work in private practice, you may also want to add to your self-reflection work questions about your financial boundaries.

I see supervisees and new therapists struggle when they don’t have clear policies about their practice. Without them, it’s easy to start making decisions based on how we feel that day. That can lead to guilt, resentment, and even favoritism or confusion—if policies apply on some days but not others, or to some clients but not others.

Here are some questions that may help you:

What is my cancellation/no-show policy?
How will I handle non-payment?
What are my typical fees, and will I offer sliding scale or reduced-fee spots?

Do yourself and your clients a favor by increasing clarity on these important questions. There’s no one right answer to any of these questions, and remember, it’s okay if the answers change over time.

Self-reflection as a tool for a sustainable counselling practice

In my work as a supervisor, I also encourage supervisees to focus on their experiences, challenges, and emotions that have arisen in their work with clients since our last meeting. I have a free downloadable worksheet with questions to guide you on this reflection, including prompts to reflect on ethical and boundary considerations, and to explore shifts on your nervous system.

I designed this worksheet as a tool to help new clinicians deepen their self-awareness, enhance their skills, and foster a continuous commitment to professional growth. In my years of experience, after dealing with burnout that aggravated my chronic pain early on in my career, I've noticed that therapists' needs are rarely addressed. What happens when we only address our professional responsibilities is that we're left vulnerable to potential career- and life-altering outcomes like burnout and vicarious trauma.

This is why I've developed another resource: The Boundaried Therapist: Sustaining yourself in the counselling profession. This book is intended for both new and seasoned therapists, with the hope to broaden the conversation about therapists' limits, needs, and values. Offering a deeper dive into boundaries, including practical strategies for developing a sustainable practice and life, this is an excellent resource for practice owners, supervisors and leaders to share with their teams or supervisees.

]]><![CDATA[Understanding burnout, vicarious trauma, and the power of curiosity]]>Wed, 23 Apr 2025 15:12:27 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/understanding-burnout-vicarious-trauma-and-the-power-of-curiosity

Is burnout just a synonym for exhaustion? Does everyone experience trauma? In this post we'll talk about what burnout, trauma, and vicarious trauma actually mean, the power of curiosity as a self-protective tool, plus other resources you can access if you resonate with these definitions.

Burnout: More than just exhaustion

Burnout is a mental, emotional, and physical condition characterized by emotional exhaustion, cynicism, and a sense of inefficacy. While many associate burnout with personal failure or weakness, it is crucial to understand that burnout is directly tied to a person’s work environment.

In 2019, the World Health Organization officially recognized burnout as an occupational phenomenon, distinguishing it from other mental health conditions. This means that burnout can happen to anyone, and the biggest contributing factors are often external. Research has identified six key workplace factors that underlie most cases of burnout:

Work overload
Lack of control
Insufficient rewards
Breakdown in community
Lack of fairness
Values conflict

If you are currently experiencing burnout, consider reflecting on which of these factors are contributing most to your situation. Recognizing these patterns can help you take steps toward change. If this resonates with you, discussing it with a therapist or doctor can be a helpful step in finding personalized strategies to manage burnout.

What is trauma?

Trauma refers to an emotional response to a distressing or disturbing event that overwhelms the nervous system’s ability to cope. This can lead to feelings of helplessness, fear, or horror. Trauma can be experienced firsthand or indirectly through witnessing the suffering of others—known as vicarious trauma.

When trauma responses persist, they can manifest in various ways, including:

Intrusive symptoms: nightmares, flashbacks, and distressing thoughts or memories.
Avoidance symptoms: actively avoiding thoughts, feelings, memories, places, or people associated with the traumatic event.
Hyperarousal symptoms: hypervigilance, exaggerated startle response, irritability, or feeling constantly on edge, often disrupting sleep and relaxation.

Vicarious trauma is just as real as direct trauma. If you recognize these symptoms in yourself, know that help is available, and seeking support is a vital step toward healing.

Curiosity: A tool for protecting against burnout and vicarious trauma

In my workshops on burnout and vicarious trauma, one of the most important strategies I emphasize is the power of curiosity.

There are two common approaches to empathy that helpers use:

Imagine-Self Perspective-Taking (ISPT): This is the classic "walk a mile in their shoes" approach, where we try to put ourselves in another person’s situation and imagine how we would feel. While well-intentioned, this method can contribute to burnout, as constantly envisioning distressing scenarios happening to oneself takes a toll on the nervous system.
Imagine-Other Perspective-Taking (IOPT): This approach is rooted in curiosity. Rather than assuming we know how someone feels, we observe, infer, and ask questions. This approach not only reduces emotional exhaustion but also leads to a more accurate understanding of others' experiences.

Research suggests that people using the first approach—imagining themselves in someone else’s shoes—are more likely to misinterpret emotions due to the limits of their own experiences. By contrast, engaging in curiosity allows us to better support others while maintaining our own well-being.

So, if you find yourself deeply absorbing your client’s experiences as if they were your own, take a breath, lean back, and engage your curiosity. This simple shift can make a profound difference in preventing burnout and fostering resilience in your work.

Resources to support you

In addition to reaching out to a mental health professional, over the years I have made available different tools to help support your mental health.

On burnout:

Prevent burnout is a free worksheet with questions to help you recognize burnout in yourself, tune into your self-care needs, and take actionable steps.
How to prevent burnout is a short, self-paced online course for workers and social change makers that offers you 4 steps to recognize the signs, understand the causes, listen to yourself and set boundaries.

On trauma and vicarious trauma:

Healing trauma toolkit is a free guide with a few strategies to help you support your resilience on your journey to healing trauma.
How to prevent vicarious trauma is a short, self-paced online course that offers 5 foundational tools to protect yourself.

For caregivers and helping professionals:

Recognize your limits is a free worksheet to help you take stock of your own capacity by helping you map out what you’re willing and able to do.
Vicarious trauma & burnout is a free manual I wrote for United Cultures of Canada Association to support settlement workers and volunteers who assist newcomers.
Big-hearted boundaries is an 8-week, self-paced program to help bring joy and life energy into your work by making embodied decisions that are in line with your values.

For therapists:

Reflective practice for new clinicians is a free worksheet you can use to guide you in self-reflection, focusing on your experiences, challenges, and emotions since your last meeting with your supervisor.
The boundaried therapist: Sustaining yourself in the counselling profession is the book I wrote to support you in setting boundaries from a somatic and feminist approach, so you can build and sustain a long and vibrant career in counselling.

Please remember that none of these tools are designed to replace the therapeutic process.

]]><![CDATA[Finding hope through despair]]>Fri, 28 Feb 2025 15:04:46 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/finding-hope-through-despair

When we hear of so many awful things happening in our communities and around the world, if not directly experience, it can be hard to find moments of joy and hope. Coping with the news without letting existential despair drown us is something that keeps showing up in session with my clients. That's why I wanted to offer you some resources that might help you find hope through despair.

Naming our experience

In the past months, some of my clients have wondered aloud what it’s like to be a therapist after major world events. Like many people the day after the US election, I found myself in a state of shock/not shock. As I said more than once that day, “How can this be happening? Of course, this is happening.”

Yet rather than feeling overwhelmed, I found something comforting in naming it. The more I acknowledged that this was happening, the more I could process it. Holding space for the disappointment and disheartenment of others softened my own. Seeing other faces reflect my emotions reminded me that we’re not alone.

Throughout the day, I tried to convey that sense of shared experience, assuring everyone I spoke to: yes, this is the theme of the week, and we can hold space for your experience of it here together.

The rise of fascism isn’t confined to our neighbors to the south; it reverberates here in Canada in tangible, harmful ways. It has emboldened people to openly express hatred and paved a path toward eroding rights over our bodies and medical decisions, beginning with attacks on the trans community. These shifts are not abstract—they affect the safety and well-being of people in our communities, and it’s something we must continue to name and resist.

Resources to find hope

When I was trying to think of resources to offer if finding hope during this time is something you're struggling with, I decided to ask my community via my newsletter and Instagram: what resources are you turning to during this time?

I'm so grateful for the response, as it's given me so many books to discover!

Please note that I haven't actually read these yet, so exercise your better judgement when deciding to give them a chance.

Man's search for meaning (1946) by Viktor Frankl
When things fall apart: Heart advice for difficult times (1996) by Pema Chödrön
Hope in the dark: Untold histories, wild possibilities (2004) by Rebecca Solnit
The wild edge of sorrow: Rituals of renewal and the sacred work of grief (2015) by Francis Weller and Michael Lerner
Joyful militancy: Thriving resistance in toxic times (2017) by carla bergman and Nick Montgomery
You belong: A call for connection (2020) by Sebene Selassie
Love and rage: The path of liberation through anger (2020) by Lama Rod Owens
What it takes to heal: How transforming ourselves can change the world (2023) by Prentis Hemphill
Let this radicalize you: Organizing and the revolution of reciprocal care (2023) by Kelly Hayes and Mariame Kaba
Loving corrections (2024) by adrienne maree brown + her podcast How to survive the end of the world
Unlearning shame: How we can reject self-blame culture and reclaim our power (2024) by Devon Price

Have you read any of these? Are there any that might be resonating more strongly with you right now? Do you have other resources to add?

]]><![CDATA[Addressing vicarious trauma in psychologists]]>Mon, 02 Dec 2024 07:00:00 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/addressing-vicarious-trauma-in-psychologists

As is true for many of my colleagues, my experience with burnout and vicarious trauma (VT) was one of learning through hardship rather than preparation. While I was still earning my degree, I got my feet into the human services through work at crisis lines, shelters, group homes, and other non-profit work. Looking back with what I know now, I see indicators that were clear signs the work was affecting me.

I didn’t realize it at the time – I didn’t have that kind of insight. Instead, I remember it slowly revealing itself like a buried giant.

What I wish had happened was any sort of real conversation about the signs that were showing up in my body and behavior, creeping into my subconscious like a strange dream but not yet in my active awareness. Fittingly, much of my work as a young human services worker was during the night shift. I never would have identified as depressed, burnt out, or vicariously traumatized, but I kept a journal at the time. Reading it now, I wonder what might have changed if someone had asked me:

“Does your body ever feel ill at these hours?"
"Do you find yourself staring at the computer, flipping from tab to tab without actually looking at any of it?"
"Is your resolve to stretch more/write more/read more/write back to your friends feeling half-hearted? Do you keep thinking 'maybe tomorrow'?"
"Do you dream about work?"

It’s clear now that, during my initial crisis line volunteer training, these issues were not adequately addressed, leaving me vulnerable to their impact. And they also weren’t touched on in grad school, any of my other human services work, or during my training to become fully registered as a psychologist. It wasn’t until I experienced them firsthand that I truly understood the toll they can take, leading me down a challenging path to recovery. I have spoken to many other helping professionals who experienced the same thing – diving headfirst into crisis work and only years later, after resurfacing, realizing just how ill-prepared they were.

Strategies to prevent vicarious trauma

This experience has underscored the need for more robust and ongoing training on trauma, along with broader conversations and organizational support that extend beyond the often-emphasized personal self-care strategies.

So, what exactly does this mean? First, we need to address one of the biggest risk factors for vicarious trauma by reducing the work load for supervisees, employees, and students, especially when it comes to trauma cases. We can provide and encourage a more diverse case load, explaining the reasons behind this approach to support sustainability.

Simultaneously, we need to increase protective factors. Research shows us the importance of initial and ongoing vicarious trauma training. This should be woven in throughout graduate school courses and practicum and it should cover not just the signs of vicarious trauma but also methods for prevention and recovery. Additionally, students and new clinicians should be encouraged to regularly assess themselves using screening tools.

There’s also a lot that we, as leaders in psychology—whether teachers, supervisors, or organizational leaders—can do to set the stage for sustainable careers. For example, we can, and should, purposefully carve out time for self-reflective practice in supervision. As my colleague Sophia C. Parks encourages, all supervision sessions should touch on boundaries, sustainability, and care for the clinician in some way.

During group supervision, we can invite supervisees to share the practices that are helping them most and how they’re adapting to shifting seasonal demands. Group supervision is also a great opportunity for supervisees to openly discuss the challenges they face in their work. If we can create an environment of trust and connection, we can go beyond mere case consultation, allowing participants to feel safe enough to share personal difficulties. This opens up space for empathy and a sense of “me too” support. Peer discussions can also help them identify burnout-prone situations by asking questions like:

“How many hours a week is it normal to work?"
"What’s normal for my employer to expect of me?"
"How is everyone else managing everything there is to do?”

In line with this, research identifies regular supervision and peer support as protective factors. Additionally, a culture which validates vicarious trauma is key.

Ultimately, there is a pressing need for comprehensive training and organizational support to address burnout and vicarious trauma in the field of psychology. We need structural solutions within graduate schools and workplaces, emphasizing the importance of proactive measures and systemic support to protect psychologists from burnout and VT.

]]><![CDATA[Enhancing therapy with AI: A guide for clinicians and clients]]>Wed, 28 Aug 2024 13:21:35 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/enhancing-therapy-with-ai-a-guide-for-clinicians-and-clients

As technology continues to evolve, finding ways to integrate it into our therapeutic practices can be both exciting and beneficial. With the launch of ChatGPT-4 earlier this year, we have even more opportunities to enhance therapy with AI. At the same time, it's crucial to be mindful of how we're integrating this technology, just as we would with any other new tool or practice. I hope this article can be a useful guide for clinicians and clients who might be considering, or already using, AI tools in their work together.

With any free or new technology, I have learned to ask the question “what’s the cost?”. Often with tech, it’s our data. In the case of ChatGPT and other AI, I was dismayed to learn that the answer to “what’s the cost” is also the environment. For those who haven’t heard, training and utilizing AI uses a shocking amount of energy, leading to increased electricity usage and carbon emissions: it's estimated that "the carbon footprint of training a single big language model is equal to around 300,000 kg of carbon dioxide emissions. This is of the order of 125 round-trip flights between New York and Beijing". It also uses an excessive amount of water: while "a single Google search requires half a millilitre of water in energy, ChatGPT consumes 500 millilitres of water for every five to 50 prompts". There are even more environmental and human costs, and companies are not being fully transparent about them.

I don’t know what the answer is here, but I think it’s important to start with awareness of the costs and benefits of using certain technologies, especially for the population groups that are likely to suffer most from climate change. I want to be clear that I’m not here to say whether an individual person should use AI or not - especially because I have seen some incredibly positive and helpful uses despite being wary about the costs. Instead, I thought it would be helpful to add to what I hope will be an ongoing conversation about the shifts we’re making as a society, and if they are truly in line with the future we’re trying to co-create.

What is the most ethical answer?

The thing is, personally, I’m still torn. But in my work as a therapist, I’m familiar with having two important values that come into conflict and having to navigate this. What’s good for the environment may come into conflict with what’s helpful for someone’s mental health in many ways. For example, I have often encouraged clients to get their groceries delivered, order take out, or do whatever is necessary to make sure that food actually goes into their bodies, even when it’s not the most financially or environmentally sustainable option. I have also encouraged people to take a cab or separate car instead of carpool, when doing so would mean they can actually attend a social function and not worry about their safety or ability to leave when their nervous system said it was time. I have also supported people to use AI to maintain their ability to keep working in the job they’re in, or to help them attain new work that doesn't burn them out.

These are small examples of how everyday we make choices where we have to compromise on our values, and decide out of all the things that are important to us, what’s most important. This has to be an evolving and conscientious process. I have seen often that people get stuck when we create rigid rules around what is considered “ethical” and what is not, and then place those rules onto other individual people who are struggling.

What I’ve also come to recognize is that putting the burden of the environment onto the shoulders of individuals is unfair when it is primarily large corporations that are causing the current climate crisis, and it also confounds the real problem of our capitalist system. This burden of ethical consumerism also disproportionately impacts the people who need those easier, cheaper options (e.g., disabled folks, people living below the poverty line, people with limited time and energy).

Important considerations of using AI in therapy

All that preamble aside, incorporating AI into our therapeutic practices requires thoughtful consideration. Here are some key questions and points to keep in mind:

Data privacy and security: Where and how is the information being stored and used? Ensuring that client data remains confidential and secure is paramount.
Accuracy and reliability: Am I double-checking the accuracy of the information provided? It's important that AI supplements, rather than replaces, our professional judgment and expertise.
Continuous education: Engage in ongoing education about the use of technology in therapy. Understand the capabilities, limitations, and ethical implications of using AI tools like ChatGPT in your practice.

Additional ethical considerations

Informed consent: Ensure that clients are fully informed about how AI is being used in their therapy. Explain the potential benefits and limitations, and obtain their explicit consent.
Transparency: Be open with clients about the use of AI tools. Explain how AI generates responses and the nature of its algorithms to ensure clients understand it’s an aid, not a substitute for human expertise.
Bias and fairness: AI models can reflect and perpetuate biases present in the data they were trained on. Be mindful of potential biases in AI’s responses and critically evaluate the information it provides.
Scope of use: Clearly define the scope of AI’s use in therapy. Again, it should enhance, not replace, professional judgment. Ensure all critical therapeutic decisions are made by the therapist, not the AI.

Possible positive uses of AI in therapy

Here are some positive ways in which both clinicians and clients can potentially take advantage of AI:

Positive uses for clinicians

Personalized guided visualizations or meditations: Create customized visualizations or meditations tailored to your clients' needs. For example, prompt AI with “create a guided visualization to help with [THEME: anxiety, compassion], using imagery of [SETTING: forest, pathway].”
Worksheet and journal prompt creation: Generate worksheets or journal prompts to help clients explore their thoughts and feelings in a structured way.
Resource recommendations: Ask AI to suggest relevant articles, books, or therapeutic resources that might benefit your clients.

Positive Uses for Clients

Project breakdown: If you're feeling overwhelmed by a project (e.g., cleaning your house), ask AI to break it down into manageable, bite-sized tasks.
Assertive communication scripts: Get help formulating scripts for assertive communication, making it easier to express your needs and boundaries.
Grounding strategies: Request a reminder of grounding techniques, such as deep breathing, mindfulness exercises, or sensory activities, to help manage stress and anxiety.

Final thoughts

As we've seen, AI isn't an evil but it's also not an ultimate solution. It's a human-made tool with potential benefits as well as concrete negative impacts we're only now beginning to uncover. I would highly recommend this briefing paper of CPA on AI and psychology as further reading for psychologists, as well as this article on the negative impacts of using AI in science research, to keep you thinking about this topic. In addition, this video by theoretical physicist Angela Collier is a good, entertaining, and easily digestible primer into what AI is and what it can't do.

How about you? I would love to hear if you're using AI tools in your practice, what you're using them for, and how you're talking with clients about it. .

]]><![CDATA[In support of gender affirming care]]>Fri, 23 Feb 2024 22:05:29 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/in-support-of-gender-affirming-care

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It has been a few weeks since the Alberta government announced plans to restrict access to gender affirming care for transgender children, including the use of puberty blockers (even with parental consent). This follows a growing and disturbing trend that runs completely counter to medical and psychological science. As a psychologist who works with trans teens and their families, as well as trans adults, I want to provide some information for those navigating their way through understanding this issue, and resources for those who want to advocate for change.

In light of these concerning developments, I believe it is imperative for psychologists and their associations to take a clear and unequivocal stance in support of transgender and gender-diverse youth and their families. As a psychologist grounded in science, my position aligns with the position statement set forth by the American Psychological Association, which emphasizes the following key points:

Supports access to affirming and supportive treatment for trans and gender-diverse youth and their families, including appropriate mental health services, and when indicated, puberty suppression, and medical transition support.
Opposes all legislative and other governmental attempts to limit access to these services for trans and gender-diverse youth, or to sanction or criminalize the actions of physicians and other clinicians who provide them.

The Canadian Psychological Association (CPA) has also published a position statement on the promotion of gender
diversity and expression and prevention of gender-related hate and harm. You can download and read this document here.

Resources to support the right to gender affirming care

Below are a few resources that provide information on the impacts that anti trans legislation has on 2SLGBTQ+ people, particularly children and teens, and how to counter misinformation and myths with facts.

‘The young people feel it’: A look at the mental health impact of antitrans legislation - The American Psychological Association: Psychological science points to an increased risk of suicide and poor mental health amid a record number of bills aimed at restricting the rights of the 2SLGBTQ+ population.
Addressing the recent attack on 2SLGBTQ+ rights in Alberta: How to speak to concerns by those misinformed: This is a living document created to provide some possible responses when having discussions with people about the recent policies announced by the Alberta government.
The New York Times's War On Trans Kids [TEASER] - If Books Could Kill Podcast: This episode includes some good myth-busting, particularly about the “risks” of puberty blockers. Note that you have to be a Patreon subscriber to hear the rest of the show; proceeds will be donated.

In addition, here are some petitions you can sign if you're based in Alberta:

And if you live somewhere else in Canada, you can sign Petition e-4666.

I hope you'll join me in advocating for the safety and support of all 2SLGBTQ+ youth, which must necessarily include gender affirming care.

]]><![CDATA[Workshop: Supporting newcomers to Canada]]>Thu, 02 Feb 2023 18:00:07 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/workshop-supporting-newcomers-to-canada

Last year, in partnership with the United Cultures of Canada Association (UCCA), I developed a workshop as part of a project called "Promoting Newcomer Mental Health through Education and Community Service." The project was graciously endorsed by the Family and Community Support Services of Alberta. The first workshop is intended to community leaders who support newcomers to Canada, and it consists of two videos that are already available online.

In the first video, I walk you through what mental health is, the benefits of taking care of it, and the types of resources available so you can better support mental health for newcomers to Canada as a community leader. I also talk about the ADDRESSING framework developed by Pamela Hays, which is helpful to identify and understand the different biases we might have.

In the second video, I talk about what is (and isn't) our role as community leaders, and propose that leadership is based on listening. Here, you can learn about what goes into good listening and how you can avoid some of the barriers you might encounter.

Resources for Psychology Month

February is National Psychology Month here in Canada! This month can prompt us to spread awareness to the general public about the scope and benefits of psychology across all areas of society, from the individual to the community levels. So I wanted to end this post with some extra resources I like and are specific to psychology.

Choosing a psychologist

The Canadian Mental Health Association (CMHA) has a downloadable handout that goes over some common kinds of psychotherapy, how you can access it, and questions to ask your therapist. Click here to download.

Similarly, in the article How to choose a psychologist by the American Psychological Association (APA), they go over when to seek psychological support, how to find it, and questions to consider when seeking therapy.

Understanding mental health

I really like the Made of Millions website to help people get more information about common mental health conditions. Check out especially their Explore the Spectrum page.

The Psychologists’ Association of Alberta (PAA) has a free resource library that includes fact sheets, tip sheets, infographics, and more on a broad variety of topics. Check it out here!

]]><![CDATA[4 reasons why I'm taking an entire month off]]>Thu, 24 Nov 2022 12:44:28 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/4-reasons-why-im-taking-an-entire-month-off

Note: this post was adapted from a newsletter I wrote in November 2019. I usually call this time period “No Work December”, but since this year I won’t be travelling until February, I'll be working until December 18 before taking a break, as a trade off. While I will still be around Edmonton during that time, my plan is not to check email and instead to focus on rejuvenation. Okay, here it is!

As we go into December, I'm winding down with clients for the year. Some of you may be familiar with my inclination to take the month off client work and engage in a mix of travel, other projects, and rest. I started doing this a number of years ago, mostly at the prompting of my parents, who kept telling me "you work too much!". I wanted to share what this means to me. So, why take an entire month off?

1. Sustainability

I say this often, and it remains true: I want to be doing healing work for another 50 years or so. Each year that passes, I take more seriously what's going to make it possible in the long run. To aim for sustainability, I need to carve out time away where I can remind myself of the other parts of who I am. My work is incredibly important to me, but I can't forget that there are other parts of me that also need attention. This is essential in helping me remain connected to joy and aliveness when I do show up to work, therefore making it sustainable.

I've also found that it's not enough to have a day or two away from the office, because I end up staying in work mode. Having a long break where I'm physically away from the computer and the office for a sustained period allows my brain the mental reset it needs.

2. Living alongside chronic pain

I need to be as healthy as possible in order to show up, be present with clients, and do good work. As someone living alongside chronic pain, this means that my life revolves around my health, not around my work.

This mindset was inspired by business coach Jen Carrington, who, in her weekly letters, speaks about having purposeful space to rest and recharge. I have to remind myself that there are certain compromises that are okay to make — but my health isn't one of them.

3. Aiming for "good enough"

When I first attempted “No Work December” a few years ago, it was because it was getting close to December and I was more tired than I wanted to be. My parents kept telling me that I worked too much, so I had a good conversation with them because I was trying to figure out when “enough” was enough.

I was still new to being self-employed and was having a hard time knowing where the limit was. When have you put in “enough” hours? Made “enough” money? I knew I technically could keep working, but should I? Everyone seemed to do it differently, with some people working a lot over the holidays, and some people not at all. Likewise, some clinicians seemed good with eight clients a day, whereas others drew the line at four. I could continue to do more work, but if I was honest with myself, I was ready to be done for the year. So, I gave myself permission to aim for “good enough” and stop there.

4. Being brave enough to follow my own advice

Most of the encouragement I give clients centers around listening more closely to our bodies and finding some way to give it what it needs. I encourage people all the time to take a pause from doing and let themselves be. Often, this ends up involving gently reminding people that it's okay to take a break from work.

So if I'm reminding everyone in my life to do this, then I absolutely need to be willing to do the same thing. I don't believe boundaries are just for “other” people. And I absolutely know it'd send a pretty weird message if I were to say to my clients “yes, listen to your bodies, take a break from work, but me? No, I'm not going to do that.” If I'm asking everyone else to be brave and deal with the guilt, then I'm going to do it too. I’m going to be brave enough to follow my own advice.

I wanted to share a little bit more about what it means to me to take an entire month off in the hopes that it will encourage you to know that you can also take the time you need. This is especially important for people who are helping professionals, activists, caregivers, educators, and in any other caring role that is particularly vulnerable to vicarious trauma.

If you're in crisis during this time, please contact Drop-in Single Session Counselling or the Edmonton Distress Line (780-482-HELP). If you are a client and your query is related to changing or booking a session, please do so via the Owl Portal.

]]><![CDATA[7 tools to heal the trauma of Intimate Partner Violence]]>Thu, 03 Nov 2022 17:00:00 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/7-tools-to-heal-the-trauma-of-intimate-partner-violence

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As a psychologist, one of my practice tenets is that healing trauma is possible. I'm a big believer in our natural resilience, and my goal is to support that resilience—especially because trauma healing is best done with support. November is Family Violence Prevention Month in Alberta, which has the third highest rate of self-reported spousal violence among Canadian provinces, and it’s also National Domestic Violence Awareness Month. This is why in this post I wanted to offer 7 tools to heal the trauma of Intimate Partner Violence (IPV).

1. Somatic Experiencing

Somatic Experiencing (SE) is a gentle, body-based therapy for healing trauma, an approach created by Dr. Peter Levine. The SE worldview is based on the idea that, since trauma is stored in the body, the way to heal it is also through the body, slowly releasing it by working through body sensations.

Professionals with training in SE can use the approach to work with clients whether they are hoping to heal from an acute traumatic incident (such as a sexual assault) or a chronic stressor (such as intimate partner violence). During an SE session, clients are invited to begin with the part of the experience that is least activating for them, known as titration. Then, they slow down and notice what is happening in their body, in order to give it space to process the event, and together with their therapist they name and explore these sensations without judgment. With time and the container of the room, people usually notice that the sensations change and the activation that has been held inside begins to release. All of this happens at the pace of the client and after some grounding practices to help them feel safe have been established.

In my role as a Registered Psychologist trained in SE, I aim to be a guide and a constant reminder that our survival responses are all incredibly adaptive. I recognize that people can be blamed for their experiences and their survival responses, so I help clients work through any leftover shame they may be experiencing for the ways in which their bodies helped them survive. This is also a feminist counselling approach.

2. S.A.F.E. EMDR

EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) is an evidence-based trauma therapy that allows clients to access and process traumatic experiences. We attend to emotionally disturbing material while doing bilateral stimulation (typically eye movements, though I tend to use tapping or hand buzzers) in order to help move through the event. The goal is for distress to reduce, while new insights around the event can come forward.

In particular, the Somatic And Attachment Focused approach, or S.A.F.E. EMDR, relies on a compassionate relationship and body-based resources to help clients understand and appreciate the adaptations their systems have already made before rather than simply trying to fix them.

3. Reclaiming Pleasure by Holly Richmond

Dr. Holly Richmond is a licensed marriage and family therapist as well as one of North America’s leading sex therapists, with a PhD in Somatic Psychology. Grounded in cutting-edge research, Reclaiming Pleasure. A Sex Positive Guide for Moving Past Sexual Trauma and Living a Passionate Life examines the lasting impacts of sexual trauma, and the somatic and psychological factors at play in recovery. It also offers tools to help you move beyond feelings of shame and cultivate the sense of safety, security and trust needed to rediscover and reclaim pleasure and desire.

4. Sounds Like a Cult - The Cult of Toxic Relationships

Sounds Like a Cult is a comedy podcast about the modern-day “cults” we all follow, with hosts Isa Medina and Amanda Montell. In their episode The Cult of Toxic Relationships, with relationship advice columnist Dan Savage as a guest, they discuss questions like: How are toxic lovers (and friends and bosses) similar to cult leaders? What cult-like tactics do these “charismatic” abusers use to lure people in and make them stay?

5. Changing Contexts Approach

Shift: The Project to End Domestic Violence in partnership with the Engaging Men Learning Collaborative designed the approach Changing Contexts: A Framework for Engaging Male-Oriented Settings in Gender Equality and Violence Prevention – Practitioners’ Guide. Of course, men are victims of domestic violence, too, often silent due to social stigma, and all genders have a role to play in ending gender-based violence and inequality. However, as the authors of this project argue, the gender justice movement cannot be achieved by women or gender-diverse persons alone, and men are critical to shifting environmental cues in male-oriented settings.

This guide outlines ways in which human service professionals can collaborate with people in those specific settings to shift their contextual dynamics towards more prosocial, gender-equitable behaviours. The Changing Contexts approach complements current ‘changing minds’ approaches (e.g., psychoeducational) to engage men in gender equality and violence prevention by highlighting ways that contextual changes can be used to influence behaviour, including changes to social norms, organizational design, sociocultural and physical design.

6. PEACE Resource Protocol

Sensorimotor Psychotherapy (SP) is a therapeutic modality for trauma and attachment issues founded by Dr. Pat Ogden. In this holistic approach (that includes somatic, emotional, and cognitive processing and integration), the body is an integral source of information, which can guide resourcing and the accessing and processing of challenging, traumatic, and developmental experience.

One of the free resources offered by the Sensorimotor Psychotherapy Institute that I found particularly helpful is their PEACE Resource Protocol: 5 Steps to Activate Modulation & Build Resilience, which is offered in their free webinar Building Resilience in Times of War, Violence, and Other Traumatic Events. I’m sharing it below with their permission, and you can also download a PDF for easy printing here.

7. Healing Trauma Toolkit

This is one of my own free resources, so if you’re a regular reader, you might already have it! I've learned a number of tools over the years that I believe are essential in healing trauma, and I share them with my clients often. I draw mostly on the work of Peter Levine and Diane Poole Heller, though they are not the only therapists that have influenced the content of this toolkit.

These tools can help you focus on one of the following:

Safety
Containment
Grounding in the here and now
Self-regulation

You can download the PDF here.

I hope these resources will be valuable to you if you need them, or that you can share them with anyone who might. Remember that the Family Violence Info Line in Alberta is 310-1818 for call (toll-free) or text in over 170 languages, and you can also chat online 24/7 for support, information or referrals (in English). Finally, if you or someone you know is in immediate danger, always call 911.

]]><![CDATA[4 things I’ve been doing to navigate migraines in the last year]]>Tue, 07 Jun 2022 15:37:46 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/4-things-ive-been-doing-to-navigate-migraines-in-the-last-year

June is Migraine and Headache Awareness Month here in Canada, an opportunity to raise awareness through education and research on the nature and impact of headache and migraine disorders, as well as support and advocate for people living with this type of chronic pain. For those of you who might not know, I have a personal history in dealing with migraines. I’ve always had them but, a few years ago, chronic stress and burnout led to daily, high intensity migraines that wouldn’t go away. Since then, things have improved for me, but as a chronic pain condition, this is something I have to live with. Here are 4 things I’ve been doing to navigate migraines in the last year:

1. Neurologist care

I’ve been getting by pretty well with the support of my GP, but back in September we decided that if I’m going to try one of the injectable migraine treatments, I really needed to talk to someone who was an expert in the area. In Edmonton, this is Dr. Michael Knash, a neurologist who specializes in migraine and headache. He was able to assist immediately with finding the right dose and sharing with me some options for getting medication coverage.

One thing that I was surprised to learn is that not all neurologists have the same training or expertise, so it's important to find one who specifically works with migraine. You can watch this video from the Pain Society of Alberta where he talks about options for treating your migraine attacks at home.

2. Therapist support

Fortunately, my existing therapist has experience working with migraine. I’m so grateful that she’s able to have direct conversations with me about therapy, pain, and when I’m holding unrealistic expectations about what my relationship with chronic pain should be.

She also reminded me that stress is a part of life, and if my plan included never being stressed, it wasn’t going to work. We’re both big advocates that migraine treatments should work despite the daily stressors of living in Alberta, being a parent, and being a therapist. Her reminder to me was that treatment of chronic pain is a gendered issue and that I needed to go back to my doctor if my current medication was no longer working. This was also a reminder that what works for a while in terms of treatment may not always work, and if severity or frequency of pain increases, it’s a good idea to revisit medications and treatment plans.

3. Guided visualizations

I continued to use the guided visualizations from Curable Health. Curable is an online program and app that provides professional help to people living with persistent or chronic pain. They use a biopsychosocial approach that addresses pain from multiple angles (psychical, psychological, and emotional) to provide science-backed lessons and techniques.

My favorite is the control room visualization, where you turn down the volume on pain and shut off the alarm. Most of my clients know I’m a big fan of using imagination work to assist healing, because through imagination, we create a new physiological response and allow our lower brain to take in alarm-reducing cues. That’s what Curable’s visualizations help me do.

4. A sustainable work schedule

Making our work schedule sustainable seems to be a huge conversation in the psychology circles I’m in right now, and I’d love to share what sustainable looks like to me. First, it’s individual, and second, it changes over time.

I used to work longer hours 4 days a week. Now I’m doing fewer hours per day on a 5 days a week schedule. At different points over the years, my capacity has changed, and what works best for me to be present and engaged has changed. One of the key strategies I’m using is not filling my schedule to capacity. A full schedule for me would be 6 clients per day. But I know that this leaves zero room for inevitable parts of life and this job, including days when I’m in pain and room for urgent appointments or reports. So I only leave 5 spots open on my online calendar, and I book the 6th by my discretion. That way I can really have a look at what the day and week looks like to help me decide if it’s within my capacity or not. I also book regular time off each month and a longer period at the end of the year to fully put responsibilities away and focus on recharging.

If you too live with chronic or persistent pain: what are some of the things that help you navigate it?

]]><![CDATA[How shame manifests in the body]]>Wed, 09 Mar 2022 20:12:50 GMThttps://www.embodiedpsychology.ca/blog/how-shame-manifests-in-the-body

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In my experience of working with shame, I’ve found that when people are first learning about it, they generally ask about how shame manifests in the body. The reason is that they’re hoping for guidance so they can begin to better identify it in themselves. It’s such a great question because it invites a sense of curiosity and mindfulness to the experience of shame. And I’ve often said that curiosity is a great antidote to shame.

Identifying how shame shows up in your body

Before we start learning to identify how shame shows up in our bodies, we need to understand that every nervous system is different. This is something that became clear in my experience.

In my work with clients, I integrate the Somatic Experiencing approach, based on the work of Dr. Peter Levine. This is a body-oriented therapeutic model that seeks to help the nervous system get unstuck from the fight, flight, or freeze response that is activated during a traumatic or stressful situation. In this approach, we learn to ask people where they experience a sensation rather than telling them where they should be experiencing it.

So, to get started, this is what you can do when you identify that you’re feeling shame. Explore what your body feels like in that moment. Ask yourself if you might be feeling heat, tightness, closed, small, or stuck, for example. If you’re just starting to learn about identifying sensations, I have a blog post that you might want to check out. In it, you’ll find a list of words describing different body sensations: you can try them out and see if any fits.

When you identify a sensation, can you discover where in your body you feel it the most? For example, some people feel heat in their face, others might feel their throat tightening, and others might feel sharp pain in their chest. Again, these are just examples. Identifying and acknowledging shame is one of the first steps in shame resilience.

Shame as a freeze state

Shame is an intense, whole-body freeze response to a situation. This is why it’s common that people will identify body sensations that relate to feeling frozen.

When exploring your own sensations, you might have used the words frozen, stuck, fuzzy, or numb, for example. People sometimes feel so overwhelmed by shame that they become disconnected from themselves. Because of the freeze, it may be hard to find words or move into action.

This is something that can be worked on in 1:1 therapy using Somatic Experiencing techniques. But I also believe that we can learn to identify shame as it’s happening and take a step back from it by building our resilience. The way I teach my clients how to do this is by using 6 scientifically-backed tools: 1) Connection; 2) Recognizing shame; 3) Self-compassion; 4) Self-talk; 5) Accepting your limits; and 6) Contentment. If shame resilience is something you’re interested in, I invite you to check out my online course Shame Resilience Skills.

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