When Intrusive Thoughts Won't Go Away: Understanding Mental Compulsions and OCD

The thoughts keep coming:

"What if I lose control and hurt someone I love"

"What if I said or did something unforgivable?"

"What if I don't actually love the person I'm with?"

Graphic. Disturbing. Against everything you value. Your stomach drops.

Immediately, you start reviewing: "Why would I think that? What does this mean about me? Have I ever done anything like that before?"

You Google the thought. You check your feelings. You ask someone close to you if you're a good person. Each time, it works—for maybe an hour. Then the thought returns, often stronger than before.

Meanwhile, to everyone else, you look fine. They have no idea you're running a mental marathon, trying desperately to prove you're not the person your thoughts suggest you might be.

If this sounds familiar, you're likely dealing with what's sometimes called "Pure O" or purely obsessional OCD—a pattern where the compulsions happen (almost) entirely in your mind, making them invisible to others and often even to yourself.

Learn more about OCD Treatment—>.

What Makes These Thoughts Different

Everyone has strange or unwanted thoughts occasionally. The difference with this pattern is what happens next.

Most people have an intrusive thought—"What if I swerved into oncoming traffic?"—and dismiss it as mental noise. But with this pattern, that thought feels urgent, meaningful, dangerous. Your mind tells you this requires immediate attention.

What tends to happen:

The thought feels shocking, but also meaningful. Your mind tells you: "This must mean something important about who I really am. Why else would I think this?"

• You feel compelled to figure out what it means—right now

• You start mental rituals: analyzing, reviewing, seeking certainty

• These rituals provide brief relief, then the thought returns

• The cycle repeats, sometimes for hours each day

The thoughts themselves aren't the problem.

It's what you do in response to them that keeps you captured.

The Compulsions You Don't Recognize as Compulsions

The term "Pure O" is somewhat misleading. It suggests purely obsessional—thoughts without compulsions. But that's not entirely accurate.

You have compulsions. They're just invisible.

When mental compulsions start, they feel important, needed, and protective. They're trying to solve the problem.

"If only I can think about this the right way, I can solve this and not worry about it anymore."

This is part of what makes this pattern so exhausting—you're working hard all day, but the work itself is the trap.

Common mental compulsions:

• Mental reviewing: Replaying conversations, events, or past behavior to check if you did something wrong

• Analyzing and debating: Going over the thought repeatedly—"Would I really do that? What kind of person thinks this?"

• Checking feelings: Scanning your body for the "right" feeling—do you still love your partner? Do you feel disgusted enough by the thought?

• Reassurance-seeking: Searching online for answers, asking loved ones if you're a good person, reading forums to see if others have the same thoughts

• Neutralizing: Trying to "cancel out" a bad thought with a good one, or repeating phrases to feel safe

These mental actions feel like they should help. But they're actually feeding the pattern that keeps you stuck.

What the Thoughts Are About

This pattern can attach to almost anything, but it tends to target what matters most to you. The more deeply you care about something—your values, your relationships, your identity—the more material it has to work with.

Some common themes:

Harm Obsessions

"What if I lose control and hurt someone I love?" These thoughts can be graphic and violent, precisely because causing harm is the last thing you would ever want.

Sexual or Taboo Thoughts

Unwanted images or thoughts involving taboo scenarios that violate your deepest values. The shame around these can be crushing.

Relationship Obsessions

"Do I really love my partner? What if I'm with the wrong person? Am I leading them on?" Constantly checking your feelings, comparing your relationship, seeking certainty you can never find.

Sexual Orientation or Identity Questions

Obsessive doubt about sexual orientation or gender identity. The issue isn't the identity itself—it's that you can't stop asking the question.

Religious or Moral Scrupulosity

Religious: "Have I sinned? Am I going to hell? Did I offend God?" Mental checking, repetitive prayer, an unshakeable sense of moral contamination.

Moral/Ethical: "Am I a fundamentally bad person? Did I do enough to help? Am I complicit in harm?" Constant moral self-interrogation, reviewing past actions for ethical failures, needing certainty about your goodness.

The pattern: OCD doesn't waste time on things you don't care about. It targets what's most important to you, then uses your conscientiousness against you.

If you're recognizing yourself in these patterns—and especially if you've tried addressing the symptoms but not what's underneath them—I'd be glad to talk about how we might work together. Contact me to discuss OCD therapy.

Why Smart, Conscientious People Get Trapped

The ironic thing is that this pattern tends to show up in people who are thoughtful, analytical, and deeply responsible. Your capacity for self-reflection—usually a strength—becomes the mechanism that keeps you captured.

Your brain presents a disturbing thought, then says:

"A good person would never think this unless something was deeply wrong. You need to figure this out immediately."

So you do what any reasonable, conscientious person would do: you try to solve the problem. You analyze. You review your past. You seek certainty.

And that's exactly what keeps the cycle going.

The rumination—the mental work that feels like responsible self-examination—is itself a compulsion. It's a defense against something deeper.

Sometimes the compulsive thinking is trying to protect you from core emotions that feel dangerous: rage, grief, vulnerability, shame. Sometimes it developed in a family or environment where it genuinely wasn't safe to make mistakes or let your guard down. The pattern made sense at one point. Now it's keeping you stuck.

The rumination that feels like responsible self-examination is itself a compulsion. It's not solving the problem—it's feeding the pattern that keeps you captured.

What Actually Helps (And Why It's Counterintuitive)

If you've been dealing with this for any length of time, you've probably tried:

• Reasoning your way out of the thoughts

• Researching to find the one explanation that will finally make sense

• Seeking reassurance from trusted people

• Avoiding triggers

And none of it has worked for more than a few hours.

That's because these strategies ARE the problem.

The Role of Exposure and Response Prevention

Treatment involves learning to do something that will feel completely wrong at first: stop trying to solve the thought.

Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP) helps you:

• Allow the thought to be present without pushing it away or analyzing it

• Resist the mental compulsions (the reviewing, checking, reassurance-seeking)

• Learn through experience that anxiety rises and falls on its own—you don't need to fix it

Over time, your brain learns: "I can have this thought and still be okay. I don't need to spend hours proving I'm not dangerous."

Why Breaking the Compulsion Cycle Isn't Always Enough

ERP is essential. It interrupts the behavioral pattern. But in my experience, that's often not the whole story.

This pattern doesn't develop in a vacuum. For many people, the rumination patterns connect to deeper emotional wounds—experiences of harsh criticism, unpredictability, shame, or trauma—that led to perfectionism, hypervigilance, and chronic self-criticism as ways of trying to stay safe."

This is why additional approaches are often necessary:

• Internal Family Systems (IFS): Often, different parts of you are in conflict. One part desperately seeks certainty. Another part is exhausted from the compulsions. Another carries shame or fear. IFS helps us work with these parts compassionately—understanding what each is trying to protect you from, so they don't have to work so hard.

• EMDR: When specific traumatic experiences or memories fuel the OCD cycle, EMDR can help process and resolve them so they're no longer triggering the same level of distress.

• Experiential Dynamic Therapy: This helps you understand and work through the emotional patterns beneath the OCD—chronic self-criticism, difficulty with anger or vulnerability, unprocessed grief or shame, a nervous system that's been in overdrive for years.

What this means in practice:

Sessions won't just be about resisting compulsions. We'll also make space for understanding why your mind latched onto this pattern, and work with the parts of you that have been holding fear, shame, or hypervigilance for a long time. The goal isn't just symptom relief—it's helping you feel genuinely safer in your own mind and body.

If You're Reading This and Thinking 'That's Me'

You might be wondering: "But what if my thoughts are different? What if I'm the one person who actually is dangerous?"

That question is the OCD.

People who are actually dangerous don't spend hours worrying about whether they're dangerous. They don't feel horrified by their thoughts. They don't desperately seek reassurance that they're good people.

You do all of those things because you care.

And you deserve support that doesn't require you to keep this secret anymore.

Small Steps You Can Take Now

Start noticing the pattern, not just the content

When a thought shows up, notice what you do next. Do you start analyzing? Googling? Seeking reassurance? Just naming the pattern can create a small space.

Try a one-minute pause

Before you Google or seek reassurance, wait one minute. Just notice the urge without acting on it. Not forever—just 60 seconds.

Find a therapist who understands this pattern

Not every therapist is trained in OCD. Some well-meaning therapists can accidentally make this pattern worse by trying to help you "process" or "understand" the thoughts. You want the rumination to end, but you wind up learning to ruminate even better. You need someone who understands that the thoughts aren't the problem—your relationship with them is.

Ready to Work on This?

I work with people experiencing this pattern and other forms of OCD using an integrated approach. We'll use Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP) to interrupt the compulsion cycle, and when it's helpful, we'll also work with Internal Family Systems (IFS), EMDR, and Experiential Dynamic Therapy to address the parts of you in conflict, the emotional wounds, and the nervous system patterns keeping this active.

In our work together, you won't have to convince me you're a good person, and you won't have to keep apologizing for your thoughts. We'll work on both stopping the compulsions and understanding what's underneath them.

Schedule an appointment

I see clients in-person at my McLean office on Chain Bridge Road and virtually throughout Northern Virginia, Maryland, and Washington, DC—including Arlington, Falls Church, Vienna, Tysons, Bethesda, and Georgetown.

People-Pleasing and the Fawn Response: When “Being Nice” Comes From Old Survival Strategies

You may be the reliable one. The one who remembers birthdays, picks up extra shifts, says “Sure, I can do it” even when you’re exhausted. On the outside, it looks like kindness, generosity, and flexibility.

On the inside, it might feel more like anxiety and pressure:

• You replay conversations, worrying if someone is upset with you.

• Saying “no” makes your heart race.

• You notice everyone else’s needs and lose track of your own.

If that sounds familiar, it may be more than a personality trait. What many people call people-pleasing is sometimes what trauma therapists refer to as the fawn response—a survival strategy that formed in the context of threat, conflict, or emotional instability, and then kept going long after the original danger passed.

In this post, we’ll explore what the fawn response is, how it connects to people-pleasing, and how trauma therapy can help you move toward relationships where you don’t have to disappear to stay safe.

What Is People-Pleasing, Really?

People-pleasing is often misunderstood as simply being “too nice” or “too accommodating.” But for many people, it’s less about being nice and more about being safe.

Common signs of people-pleasing include:

• Saying yes when you’re overwhelmed or resentful inside

• Apologizing frequently, even when you’ve done nothing wrong

• Feeling responsible for other people’s emotions

• Changing your opinions to match the group

• Feeling guilty or panicked when someone seems disappointed in you

If you’ve lived this way for a long time, it can start to feel like a fixed part of your identity:

“I’m just someone who doesn’t like conflict and drama.”
“I’m easygoing—whatever works for other people works for me.”

But often, beneath that identity is a nervous system that learned a very specific lesson: It is safer to disappear, appease, or over-give than to risk anger, withdrawal, or rejection.

That’s where the fawn response comes in.

Fight, Flight, Freeze… and Fawn

When we talk about trauma responses, most people recognize fight, flight, and freeze:

• Fight – pushing back against the threat

• Flight – trying to get away

• Freeze – shutting down or going numb when escape doesn’t feel possible

The fawn response is another survival strategy: instead of fighting, running, or shutting down, we move toward the source of threat in hopes of diffusing it.

Fawning might look like:

• Trying to be “perfect” so no one gets upset

• Anticipating someone’s needs before they ask

• Quickly smoothing over conflict, even if you were the one who was hurt

• Agreeing with others to keep the peace, even when it costs you

• Being especially kind, accommodating, or complimentary toward someone who is hurting you—almost over-proving that you’re “good” and not a threat, in hopes that their anger, criticism, or withdrawal will soften, or even that they could come to see you as a friend or ally.

For many people, this response develops early:

• Growing up with a parent who was easily angered, unpredictable, or critical

• Living in a household where love and approval felt conditional

• Being in a relationship where conflict escalated quickly or felt unsafe

• Experiencing ongoing emotional neglect, where you learned that being “easy” was the way to get any attention at all

In those environments, fawning was wise. It lowered the risk of being yelled at, shamed, or abandoned. Your nervous system did exactly what it needed to do to help you survive.

The problem is that these strategies can become automatic—and they often keep running in adulthood, even when your circumstances have changed.

How the Fawn Response Shows Up in Adult Life

Because the fawn response is so automatic, you might not even notice you’re doing it. You just know relationships feel confusing and draining.

Here are some ways fawning can show up now:

1. Difficulty Saying No

Even simple requests can trigger a cascade of anxiety:

• Your mind jumps to worst-case scenarios: They’ll be angry. They’ll think I’m selfish. They’ll pull away.

• Your body responds: tight chest, knot in your stomach, racing thoughts.

• Before you even think it through, you hear yourself saying, “Sure, no problem.”

Later, you might feel resentful or ashamed and beat yourself up: Why did I say yes again?

2. Losing Track of Your Own Preferences

If you’ve spent years scanning for everyone else’s needs, questions like “What do you want?” or “What do you need?” can feel surprisingly hard.

You might:

• Defer decisions to others (“Whatever you want works for me”)

• Struggle to name your own likes, dislikes, or boundaries

• Feel blank or confused when you try to check in with yourself

If you recognize these traits, it’s not something you need to beat yourself up about —it’s just the residue of years of orienting outward more than inward in order to survive, and it’s something that you can work on.

3. Over-Responsibility for Others

When the fawn response is active, your nervous system treats other people’s emotions like emergencies you’re responsible for solving.

You may:

• Rush to fix discomfort, even when it isn’t your job

• Take blame to keep the peace, even when you’re not at fault

• Feel guilty when someone else is upset, regardless of the cause

Over time, this can lead to burnout, resentment, and a vague sense that you’re taking care of everyone but no one is truly taking care of you.

4. Confusing Relationships

Fawning blurs the line between connection and compliance.

You might:

• End up in relationships where you feel you’re always giving more than you get

• Struggle to trust people who are calm, consistent, or genuinely kind (they feel unfamiliar)

• Struggle to identify that you are in an imbalanced relationship.

• Find yourself drawn back into dynamics that feel like “home,” even if they’re painful

It can be hard to believe that a relationship could be both close and safe without you constantly managing everyone else’s emotions.

“But I’m Just Easygoing… Isn’t That a Good Thing?”

A common reaction to the idea of people-pleasing or the fawn response is something like:

“But I’m just flexible.”
“I don’t like drama.”
“I’m easygoing—other people are the rigid ones.”

And often, that’s true. Many people who lean toward people-pleasing really are wired to be more adaptable, collaborative, and attuned to others. Those are genuine strengths.

The tricky part is that our natural predispositions can become exaggerated crutches when our nervous system is overwhelmed. Defenses like fawning are often syntonic with our biology and temperament—they feel like “just who I am”—but they’re turned up to level 11, well past the point of being helpful.

A few ways to sense that shift:

• You say “yes” automatically, even as a part of you quietly wilts.

• You feel anxious or guilty at the thought of disappointing someone, even in small ways.

• You adjust to others so quickly that you only notice your own needs in hindsight.

In other words, being easygoing isn’t the problem. The problem is when being agreeable stops feeling like a choice and starts to feel like the only way to stay safe or connected. Therapy doesn’t ask you to give up your flexibility or kindness; it helps you reclaim them as choices rather than automatic survival strategies that sometimes work against you.

Why It’s So Hard to Stop People-Pleasing (Even When You Want To)

You might intellectually understand that you’re allowed to say no—and still feel frozen when it’s time to actually set a boundary.

There are good reasons for that:

• Your nervous system still links disagreement, conflict, or disapproval with danger.

• Your inner narrative may say things like, “If I upset people, I’ll be abandoned” or “I’m only valuable when I’m helpful.”

• You may not have had many models of relationships where both people’s needs matter.

So when you try to stop people-pleasing, it can feel like you’re doing something wrong, selfish, or risky—even though you’re actually moving toward healthier patterns.

Healing isn’t about shaming the part of you that fawns. It’s about understanding how it helped you survive, and slowly giving your system new experiences of safety, choice, and mutual care.

How Trauma Therapy Can Help You Move Beyond Fawning

Therapy doesn’t try to rip away your survival strategies. Instead, it aims to help you befriend and update them.

Here are some ways trauma therapy can help with the fawn response and people-pleasing:

1. Making Sense of Your Story

Many people-pleasers minimize their past:

“Lots of people had it worse.”
“It wasn’t that bad. My parents just had high expectations.”

In therapy, we slow down and honor what it was actually like to be you:

• What happened when you disagreed?

• How were emotions handled in your family?

• What did you learn you had to be (or not be) to stay connected?

Naming these patterns can be profoundly relieving: Oh. This makes sense. I wasn’t just “too sensitive.” I was adapting.

2. Listening to Your Body

Because the fawn response has such strong nervous-system roots, working with the body can be especially helpful.

In therapy, this might involve:

• Noticing subtle tension, pressure, or collapse when you consider saying no

• Tracking what happens in your body when you imagine conflict versus connection

• Practicing tiny experiments, like pausing before saying “yes” and noticing what you feel

Over time, your body can learn that pausing, asking for clarification, or expressing a preference is uncomfortable—but not actually life-threatening.

3. Practicing Boundaries in a Safe Relationship

The therapy relationship can be a place to try something new:

• Saying when you don’t understand a question

• Letting your therapist know when something doesn’t feel helpful

• Naming preferences in pacing or focus

Each time you’re honest and the relationship remains safe, your nervous system gets a new message: Being real doesn’t automatically lead to rejection.

4. Updating Old Beliefs

The fawn response is often fueled by deep, learned beliefs, such as:

• “My needs are too much.”

• “If I upset people, they’ll leave.”

• “I exist to take care of others.”

Therapy can help you slowly question and update these beliefs—not by forcing positive thinking, but by pairing new experiences (being honest, setting limits) with a different outcome than your younger self expected.

You might begin to internalize more balanced truths:

• “My needs matter too.”

• “It’s okay if not everyone is happy with me all the time.”

• “Relationships can be mutual, not one-sided.”

Gentle First Steps If You Recognize Yourself Here

You don’t have to flip a switch and become “good at boundaries” overnight. In fact, slower, more gradual change is often safer and more sustainable.

Here are a few gentle experiments to try:

• Practice a pause. Before saying yes, try a two-second breath and a phrase like, “Let me think about that and get back to you.”

• Notice your body’s signals. Do you feel tight, small, or flooded when someone asks for something? That might be your nervous system signaling overload.

• Start with low-stakes no’s. Practice setting limits in situations that feel mildly uncomfortable, not terrifying.

• Journal from your younger self’s perspective. What did you learn about what happens when you say no? Who taught you that?

If trying these things brings up a lot of fear or shame, it simply means you’re touching very old survival strategies that deserve care, not more criticism.

Moving Toward Relationships Where You Can Be Fully Yourself

With support, it’s possible to:

• Stay connected without abandoning yourself

• Say “yes” when you genuinely want to

• Say “no” without spiraling into panic or guilt

• Build relationships where your needs, feelings, and limits matter too

If you recognize yourself in this description and you’re ready to explore a different way of relating—to yourself and to others—therapy can help.

I offer trauma-informed therapy to people who are ready to understand their patterns with compassion and begin to experiment with new, more sustainable ways of being in the world.

Located in-person in McLean, VA and available virtually throughout Virginia, Maryland, and Washington, D.C.

EMDR Therapy for Anxiety: How It Helps Calm the Body and Mind

Recently, a client asked me a question I hear often: “Can EMDR help with anxiety, or is it only for trauma?”

Many people who’ve read about Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) know it was developed for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and they worry that if they don’t have “big-T trauma,” it might not apply to them. The truth is, EMDR therapy can be profoundly helpful for anxiety — even when trauma isn’t the main focus.

While EMDR was originally designed to treat traumatic memories, it’s now used to help people reprocess experiences and beliefs that continue to trigger anxiety, even when they’re not consciously remembered as “traumatic.” Many forms of anxiety — from chronic worry and panic attacks to social or performance-related fear — are fueled by implicit memories and body-based responses that EMDR helps bring into balance.

In this post, we’ll look at how EMDR calms the body’s anxiety response, why it’s not just for trauma treatment, and what to expect if you’re considering EMDR therapy for anxiety.

How EMDR Works for Anxiety

When anxiety strikes, it’s as if the body and brain are getting mixed messages. You might know, rationally, that you’re not in danger — yet your heart races, your breathing quickens, and your thoughts start to spiral.

EMDR therapy helps identify and reprocess the roots of these responses.

For example, imagine someone who feels their throat tighten and their chest race whenever they have to introduce themselves to a group — even a small one. They know they’re safe, yet their body feels otherwise. Perhaps years ago, a teacher or classmate embarrassed them in front of others. That earlier experience still lives in the nervous system, so each new moment in the “spotlight” triggers the same fear.

In EMDR therapy, we would target that network — the memory, sensations, and beliefs that keep the body on high alert — to help the brain and body release the fear response and file the memory away as something that happened then, not something happening now. As this reprocessing unfolds, anxiety begins to lose its grip, and the body learns to respond with a greater sense of calm and control.

EMDR Is Not Just for Trauma

Although EMDR is best known as a trauma therapy, it can also help with experiences that don’t look like “trauma” on the surface but still shape how safe we feel in the world. These can include:

• Chronic criticism or rejection in childhood

• Embarrassing or shaming experiences in school or at work

• Medical or dental anxiety

• Fear of judgment, failure, or losing control

Many people with anxiety carry anticipatory fear — a sense that something bad is about to happen. EMDR helps update the brain’s expectations. As the nervous system integrates new information (“I’m safe now,” “I can handle this,” “It’s okay to feel anxious”), the anxiety response naturally softens.

What EMDR Therapy for Anxiety Looks Like

A course of EMDR therapy for anxiety typically unfolds in several phases:

1. Preparation and stabilization – Building trust, learning grounding skills, and identifying current anxiety triggers.

2. Target identification – Exploring memories, sensations, or beliefs that activate anxiety.

3. Reprocessing – Using bilateral stimulation (such as eye movements, tones, or gentle tapping) to reduce distress and integrate adaptive perspectives.

4. Integration – Reinforcing new, balanced responses to situations that once felt overwhelming.

Every person’s process is unique. Some notice shifts quickly, while others find that change unfolds gradually as deeper patterns of fear, avoidance, and self-doubt begin to release.

When Trauma and Anxiety Overlap

Many people who come to therapy for anxiety later discover that past experiences of loss, shame, or fear still shape how safe they feel in the present. EMDR bridges that gap — addressing both the emotional and somatic aspects of anxiety, whether rooted in clear trauma or subtler, repeated stress.

Even if you don’t identify as having “trauma,” your body may still carry echoes of earlier moments of helplessness or fear. EMDR gives the brain and body a chance to resolve those patterns, allowing you to feel more grounded, confident, and at ease.

Frequently Asked Questions About EMDR Therapy for Anxiety

How does EMDR help with anxiety?

EMDR helps the brain and body reprocess experiences that trigger anxiety. By using bilateral stimulation (eye movements, tapping, or sounds), EMDR helps the nervous system integrate memories and sensations that the body still experiences as threatening. As the brain updates these old “danger” signals, anxiety responses naturally decrease.

Is EMDR effective for anxiety even if I don’t have trauma?

Yes. While EMDR was originally developed for trauma, it also helps with anxiety that stems from repeated stress, shame, embarrassment, or chronic fear. You don’t need to identify a single traumatic event for EMDR to be effective — it can target any experience where your nervous system learned to stay on alert.

How many EMDR sessions are needed for anxiety?

The number of EMDR sessions depends on your goals and history. Some people notice improvement in just a few sessions, while others benefit from longer-term work to address deeper or more complex patterns. In general, EMDR for anxiety tends to show meaningful results sooner than traditional talk therapy alone.

Can EMDR make anxiety worse before it gets better?

Sometimes anxiety can increase temporarily as your brain begins to process stored experiences. However, EMDR is structured to include grounding and stabilization skills before any deeper work begins, ensuring you have tools to stay safe and regulated throughout the process. Most people find that their anxiety lessens over time, not increases.

Does EMDR help with panic attacks or social anxiety?

Yes. EMDR has been shown to reduce panic symptoms, fear of judgment, and performance-related anxiety by helping the brain release old fear responses. As those emotional networks are reprocessed, the body learns to stay calm in situations that once felt overwhelming.

Finding EMDR Therapy for Anxiety

If you’re struggling with anxiety, know that effective help is available. EMDR offers a way to go beyond symptom management — to retrain the body’s alarm system and build a deeper sense of safety and resilience.

Learn more about EMDR therapy and how it supports healing from anxiety and other challenges.
If anxiety has been interfering with your life, therapy for anxiety can help you find relief and greater ease.

I offer EMDR therapy in McLean, Virginia, and provide telehealth sessions across Virginia, Washington D.C., and Maryland.

You don’t have to face anxiety alone. With the right support, your mind and body can learn to relax, adapt, and move forward with more peace.

What Actually Happens in an EMDR Session?

Understanding What EMDR Is — and Isn’t

If you’ve heard of EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing), you might know it’s an evidence-based therapy for trauma and distressing life experiences. But you might not know what actually happens in an EMDR session. Do you relive your worst memories? Sit through long, painful exposures to triggers? Are you hypnotized? What exactly happens in an EMDR session — and why does it help?

EMDR isn’t about reliving trauma. It’s about helping your brain reprocess experiences that are still “stuck,” so they can be remembered without the same emotional intensity. For example, instead of feeling the rush of panic from a car accident every time you drive, the memory becomes just that — a memory — no longer an alarm going off in your body.

EMDR isn’t hypnosis. You remain fully awake and aware throughout each session, guided to notice thoughts, sensations, and emotions as they arise. The goal isn’t to enter a trance, but to stay connected to both the past and the present as your brain integrates the two.

You don’t have to know all the ins and outs of EMDR to get started, but it’s important to work with a therapist you trust — someone who can guide you through the process, help you make sense of what’s happening along the way, and create a safe space for your mind and body to process at their own pace.

The Eight Phases of EMDR in Everyday Language

EMDR follows a structured framework, but in practice it is collaborative and adaptable. Here’s what the process typically looks like:

1. History Taking & Treatment Planning
You and your therapist begin by exploring your current symptoms, triggers, and life experiences. The goal is to identify the moments or themes that still carry emotional weight. You’ll discuss goals for therapy and decide where to start. You don’t have to tell your entire story all at once.

2. Preparation
Before any processing begins, you’ll focus on building enough safety and stability to approach what still feels threatening. This might include learning ways to calm your body when distress arises, developing grounding skills, and strengthening internal resources that help you stay anchored in the present. The goal isn’t to eliminate all discomfort — it’s to help your nervous system feel safe enough to begin touching what once felt unbearable.

3. Assessment
Together you’ll choose a target memory to focus on. Your therapist will ask about the image, negative belief, emotion, and body sensations linked to that memory. For example, a client might notice an image of a car accident, the belief “I’m not safe,” and a tightness in the chest. These elements provide a roadmap for the reprocessing phase.

4. Desensitization
This is where bilateral stimulation — the “eye movement” part of EMDR — begins. You’ll be guided to notice the memory while following a series of eye movements, alternating taps, or tones in each ear. The therapist stops regularly to check in, and you simply notice what comes up.

During this phase, the brain starts to integrate information that was previously frozen in time. Some clients report flashes of insight or emotion, while others feel calm neutrality. Both are signs of the nervous system doing its work.

5. Installation
Once the emotional intensity has decreased, you and your therapist focus on strengthening a more adaptive belief, such as “I’m safe now” or “I did the best I could.” You continue using bilateral stimulation to help that new belief “take root” where the old one once lived.

6. Body Scan
Because trauma lives in the body as much as in the mind, this step helps identify any lingering sensations. You notice whether your body feels calm or if there’s residual tension. If discomfort remains, the therapist helps you process until your body feels settled again.

7. Closure
Each EMDR session ends with grounding. Your therapist ensures you’re back in the present and feeling stable before you leave. If processing feels incomplete, that’s okay — EMDR unfolds over multiple sessions.

8. Re-evaluation
At the beginning of your next session, you’ll check in about what’s shifted since last time. Often, the memory feels more distant, or the body responds differently to stress. The therapist uses this phase to plan next steps and track your overall progress.

Traumatic experiences can overwhelm the brain’s ability to make sense of what’s happening. When that happens, parts of the memory — emotions, sensations, or beliefs — get “stuck” in a kind of unfinished loop. EMDR helps your brain and body finish that loop, so that you can move from survival mode into understanding and resolution.

You and your therapist move at your pace. EMDR is not a race; it’s a process of helping your brain and body complete what they once couldn’t.

What Bilateral Stimulation Actually Does

Bilateral stimulation simply means engaging both sides of the body — and, by extension, both hemispheres of the brain. It can be done by moving your eyes side to side, tapping alternately on each knee, or listening to tones that switch between ears.

Researchers don’t yet fully agree on why bilateral stimulation works, but several theories help explain its effects. Some studies suggest it mimics the brain’s natural processing during REM sleep. Others propose that it helps reduce emotional intensity by engaging both hemispheres or by improving working memory so distress feels less consuming. Whatever the mechanism, many clients experience noticeable relief as the nervous system reorganizes its response to old stressors.

(I’ll explore the research on how bilateral stimulation works in a future post.)

Clients often describe sensations like sighing, yawning, or feeling lighter — signs that the nervous system is releasing stored tension. You might also experience emotions or images arising unexpectedly, which your therapist helps you track and make meaning of.

You Stay in Control the Whole Time

A common worry is, “What if I get overwhelmed or can’t handle what comes up?” In EMDR, you’re in charge — and your therapist’s role is to help you stay that way.

You can pause at any time. You decide what to share. A skilled EMDR therapist monitors your level of distress carefully and adjusts the pacing to keep you within your window of tolerance — the zone where processing can happen safely.

Because trauma often involves a loss of control, one of the most healing parts of EMDR is learning, within a trusting therapeutic relationship, that you can stay present and make choices even when strong emotions arise.

After an EMDR Session: Integration and Reflection

After a session, your brain may continue processing for hours or even days. Some people feel tired or emotional; others feel clear and calm. You might notice vivid dreams or small changes in how you react to everyday stress.

Integration happens naturally — your mind is making new connections and storing memories differently. Gentle aftercare helps support that process:

• Get adequate rest and hydration.

• Avoid forcing analysis — simply notice what arises.

• Practice grounding or self-soothing if strong emotions appear.

Your therapist will check in at your next session to understand how you’re feeling and decide whether to continue with the same target or move on to another.

Is EMDR Right for You?

While EMDR was originally developed for post-traumatic stress, it’s now used for a wide range of concerns — anxiety, depression, grief, phobias, and painful experiences that continue to echo long after they’ve passed.

It’s especially helpful for people who say things like, “I understand it wasn’t my fault, but I still feel it in my body.” EMDR bridges that gap between knowing and feeling.

That said, EMDR isn’t the right fit for everyone or for every stage of therapy. A thoughtful assessment helps determine whether EMDR is appropriate for your needs right now. If it’s not, your therapist may recommend beginning with other approaches to build the stability and skills that make EMDR more effective later.

The power of EMDR lies not just in the method itself, but in how it’s applied within a safe, attuned, and collaborative relationship.

🌱 Finding Relief Through EMDR

EMDR can help you process what once felt too overwhelming, so you can live with greater ease and self-trust. It offers a way to feel more present, less reactive, and more connected to yourself.

Learn more about EMDR therapy and how it can support your healing process.

Why It’s So Hard to Leave: Understanding Trauma Bonds

If you've ever felt stuck in a relationship that hurts you but still feels impossible to leave, you're not alone. Trauma bonds are intense emotional connections formed in relationships where harm and care become intertwined. These bonds often develop in cycles of abuse, neglect, or manipulation—where moments of warmth or connection are followed by fear, control, or emotional harm.

Trauma bonds can be confusing, painful, and deeply rooted. They don't form because you're weak or defective—they form because your nervous system is trying to survive. Understanding how these bonds work is the first step toward breaking free from them and building relationships that feel safe, nourishing, and grounded in mutual respect.

What Is a Trauma Bond?

A trauma bond is a powerful attachment that develops in relationships marked by a repeated cycle of abuse or emotional volatility. One moment, you may feel deeply loved, needed, or even idealized. The next, you're criticized, neglected, or made to feel small. This kind of push-pull dynamic creates a deep craving for the next moment of connection—and a belief that if you can just be better or do things right, the relationship will stabilize.

Trauma bonds are often mistaken for love, but they’re rooted in survival responses. They can show up in romantic partnerships, parent–child relationships, friendships, and even in high-control environments—like certain religious groups, workplaces, or communities where loyalty is demanded, questioning is discouraged, and guilt or fear are used to keep people in line.

What makes these bonds so confusing is that they don’t just contain pain—they also contain moments of closeness, connection, or shared history that feel meaningful. This intermittent reinforcement—the unpredictable rewards of affection and validation—can make the bond feel addictive. It's not unusual for people in a trauma bond to feel like they can’t leave, even when they know the relationship is harmful.

The Psychology Behind Trauma Bonds

Trauma bonds don’t form because someone is personally flawed—they form because the nervous system is doing its best to survive. When a relationship is marked by emotional unpredictability—being loved one moment and hurt the next—it activates deep survival responses rooted in early attachment experiences.

Many people who find themselves in trauma bond relationships grew up with caregivers who were inconsistent, neglectful, or even frightening. When love is mixed with fear early on, the brain learns to associate closeness with emotional risk. Later in life, this can create a pattern where intensity feels like intimacy and calm can feel unfamiliar—or even boring.

Another key factor is intermittent reinforcement. This is a psychological phenomenon where unpredictable rewards (like rare moments of kindness or connection in an otherwise painful relationship) make people cling even more tightly. The nervous system becomes hyper-focused on the next “good moment,” creating a cycle of hope and self-blame: If I just try harder, maybe it’ll go back to how it was at the beginning.

Shame also plays a major role. People in trauma bonds often believe the problem is them—that they’re too needy, too sensitive, or not strong enough. This internalized blame keeps them locked in place, trying to “earn” love or prove their worth instead of recognizing the unhealthy dynamic at play.

Signs You Might Be in a Trauma Bond

Recognizing a trauma bond can be incredibly difficult, especially when you're emotionally attached to the person causing harm. These relationships often contain moments that feel loving, intense, or even life-affirming, which makes the pain that follows even more disorienting. Here are some signs that what you're experiencing may be more than just a difficult relationship:

• You feel addicted to the relationship. Despite ongoing harm or emotional volatility, you feel unable to leave or imagine life without the other person.

• You justify or minimize their behavior. You find yourself defending their actions to others—or to yourself—even when you know something feels wrong.

• You blame yourself for most of the problems. While every relationship has moments of mutual responsibility, in a trauma bond, you may take on the bulk of the blame—believing that if you could just change or improve, everything would get better.

• You’re walking on eggshells. You constantly monitor your words, tone, or behavior to avoid triggering the other person.

• You isolate or feel isolated. You may have pulled away from people who care about you—or been encouraged to do so—because they might question the relationship.

• You feel a deep fear of losing them. Even if they hurt you, the thought of being without them feels unbearable.

• You keep hoping it will go back to how it was. You cling to the early stages of the relationship or rare positive moments, believing they reflect the “real” version of the person.

If you recognize yourself in some of these signs, know that you're not alone—and that awareness is a powerful step toward healing.

Why Trauma Bonds Are So Hard to Break

One of the most painful aspects of a trauma bond is knowing a relationship is harmful but still feeling emotionally tethered to it. That inner tug-of-war—I need to leave vs. I can’t imagine leaving—isn’t irrational. It’s the result of very real psychological and physiological processes.

The emotional highs and lows in a trauma bond create something akin to an addiction. When moments of connection or relief arrive, they trigger a rush of dopamine—the brain’s reward chemical. These “highs” can feel so intense and meaningful that they override memories of the harm, keeping hope alive that things will get better. Over time, the nervous system becomes conditioned to seek these fleeting moments of reward, even at great emotional cost.

Fear also plays a major role. You might fear being alone, fear losing the version of the person you fell for, or fear what it means about you if you walk away. For those who grew up with unstable or neglectful caregivers, relationships may have always felt unpredictable—and leaving, even a harmful bond, can feel like stepping into emotional freefall. The body registers disconnection as danger, making it incredibly hard to disengage.

Shame is often layered on top. You may feel embarrassed for staying, confused about why you still care, or worried about what others will think. Sometimes, the most threatening part is admitting there’s a problem at all. The shame of having misjudged someone—or of ignoring your own instincts—can be so painful that it feels easier to double down, push away your doubts, and avoid the people who might confirm them. After all, who wants to feel wrong, or hear I told you so?

Gaslighting—being made to question your own reality—can deepen this confusion, making it even harder to trust your instincts or reach out for help.

And then there’s grief. Breaking a trauma bond isn’t just about leaving a person; it often means letting go of the version of the relationship you hoped for—the one where things would change, where love would finally feel safe. That loss is real and deserves care, not judgment.

Healing from a Trauma Bond

Leaving a trauma bond isn’t a single decision—it’s a process. And it’s not just about walking away from someone; it’s about slowly untangling your sense of self from a relationship that may have felt like it defined your worth, your identity, or your safety—even if it ultimately undermined those things.

Healing begins with naming the pattern. Once you can recognize the cycles of harm, apology, and confusion for what they are, you're more able to step back and observe rather than react. This awareness helps loosen the emotional grip and makes space for curiosity, self-compassion, and choice.

Therapy can be a powerful part of this process—especially approaches that focus on trauma and attachment. Modalities like EMDR, Internal Family Systems (IFS), and relational or psychodynamic therapy can help you understand what keeps you stuck, process the pain, and rebuild trust in yourself. For some, it’s also about reconnecting with parts of themselves that have been silenced or shamed in the relationship.

Support matters deeply. You don’t have to do this alone. Friends, therapists, support groups, and even books or podcasts can serve as lifelines when doubt or grief shows up. It’s okay if your healing doesn’t look linear. What matters is that you're moving toward relationships that feel safer, more reciprocal, and more grounded in who you truly are—not who you had to become to survive.

Final Note
Trauma bonds don’t mean you’re broken or naïve. They mean you adapted—doing what you had to do to stay connected or survive in an unsafe dynamic. But over time, what once felt protective can start to feel like a cage. Recognizing that is a profound act of clarity. It means you now have the awareness—and the power—to begin breaking the cycle and moving toward something healthier.

Learn more about trauma therapy and how it can support your healing process

When Depression Doesn’t Go Away: Understanding Treatment-Resistant Depression

You’ve tried therapy. You’ve tried medication. You’ve tried getting more sleep, exercising, being social—maybe even reading all the right books. And yet, the heavy fog hasn’t lifted. If anything, it’s settled in deeper. When nothing seems to work, it’s easy to start wondering: Is this just who I am now?

If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. What you’re experiencing may be what’s known as treatment-resistant depression (TRD), and while the name can sound intimidating, understanding it is the first step toward finding a new path forward.

What Is Treatment-Resistant Depression?

Treatment-resistant depression is typically defined as a form of depression that doesn’t improve after trying at least two different antidepressant medications. But the term isn’t limited to medication alone—it can also describe depression that lingers despite talk therapy, lifestyle changes, or other standard interventions.

Importantly, treatment-resistant doesn’t mean untreatable. It simply means your depression might need a different approach—one that gets to the root of what’s happening emotionally, psychologically, or even physiologically.

Why Some Depression Doesn’t Respond Easily

Depression is not a one-size-fits-all condition. There are many reasons why someone might not respond to typical treatment approaches:

• Unresolved trauma or emotional wounding that hasn’t been addressed in talk therapy

• Biological or hormonal factors that require medical attention

• Mismatch between the therapy style and your emotional needs

• Overwhelming internal self-criticism that blocks progress

• Feeling unsafe or unseen in the therapeutic relationship

In an initial session, a new client shared that she felt like she was doing everything “right”—taking medication, showing up to therapy, trying to stay connected—but still felt numb, exhausted, and deeply stuck. That sense of helplessness is incredibly common in treatment-resistant depression, and it’s not a reflection of personal failure.

It’s also worth noting that medication can still play a role, even when it hasn’t worked in the past. Sometimes a different class of antidepressants, a combination strategy, or working with a psychiatrist who specializes in treatment-resistant depression can make a meaningful difference. Exploring therapy and medication together can often be more effective than either alone.

Therapy Approaches That May Help

No one approach works for everyone—but here are several therapies that have helped many people when traditional methods haven’t:

• Internal Family Systems (IFS): Helps you explore and understand the different “parts” of yourself—especially the ones that carry pain, shame, or the urge to give up. Rather than trying to eliminate these parts, IFS helps you develop a relationship with them that’s rooted in compassion.

• Experiential Psychodynamic Therapy: Goes beyond insight to help you feel the emotions that may have been suppressed for years. When emotions like anger, sadness, or fear are experienced and expressed in a safe setting, they often lose their grip.

• Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR): Often used for trauma, EMDR can also be effective in addressing deeply embedded negative beliefs and emotional patterns that contribute to depression.

• Ketamine-Assisted Psychotherapy (KAP): KAP combines the use of ketamine with structured psychotherapy to help people access emotional material that can be hard to reach in ordinary states of consciousness. Delivered in collaboration with a licensed prescriber, KAP may be particularly helpful for those who haven’t responded to more conventional treatment approaches. The therapy component is central—helping clients integrate insights and emotional shifts that arise during ketamine sessions.

A Different Kind of Support

Living with depression that doesn’t lift easily can be deeply isolating—but there is help. The goal of therapy isn’t just to “fix” you—it’s to help you understand yourself, build a relationship with the parts of you that are struggling, and reconnect with a sense of vitality.

You don’t have to carry the weight of figuring this all out by yourself. A skilled therapist can help you understand what’s happening beneath the surface and guide you through depression therapy that actually work for you.

If you’re navigating treatment-resistant depression and want support that honors your experience, I invite you to reach out. You don’t have to keep figuring it out alone.

I Had a Bad Trip. Now What?

Psychedelic experiences can be awe-inspiring, healing, and expansive. But they can also be overwhelming—especially when they stir up painful memories, frightening visions, or intense emotions that seem to have no off switch.

If you’ve had a difficult psychedelic experience, you’re not alone. Maybe the trip happened recently and you’re still feeling raw. Or maybe days or even weeks later, something about it keeps lingering—flashes of fear, emotional confusion, a sense of disconnection from yourself or the world around you. You might be wondering:
What happened to me? Why did this affect me so deeply? Will I ever feel normal again?

This post is here to help you understand what a “bad trip” actually is, why it can happen, and how psychedelic integration therapy or support can help you find meaning and grounding after a difficult experience.

What Is a Bad Trip, Really?

The term “bad trip” is used casually, but what it really describes is a psychedelic experience that felt emotionally, psychologically, or physically overwhelming—either in the moment or afterward. A “bad” trip might involve:

• Panic, fear, or terror

• Feeling like you’re losing control

• Unwanted or painful memories surfacing

• Intense feelings of guilt, shame, or worthlessness

• A sense of being stuck in time or disconnected from reality

• Feeling as though you “saw something” you weren’t ready for

Sometimes the content of the trip is confusing or disorienting. Other times, it’s crystal clear—but painfully so. What makes a trip difficult isn’t always what happened during the experience, but how it landed in your body and mind.

Why Do Bad Trips Happen?

There’s no single cause—but some common themes include:

• An unsafe or uncontrolled setting: Taking psychedelics in a chaotic environment, with people you don’t fully trust, or without proper support, can make you feel emotionally or physically unsafe. Even well-intentioned recreational use at a party can trigger a loss of internal grounding.

• Emotional content you weren’t prepared for: Psychedelics can bring long-buried memories, traumas, or emotions to the surface. If that happens without support, the experience can feel destabilizing or even re-traumatizing.

• You were scared by what was coming up and understandably tried to fight or resist it: When you resist the unfolding experience—especially if it’s intense or unfamiliar—it can create internal friction, leading to fear, panic, or a sense of fragmentation.

• You had unspoken expectations: Maybe you hoped for healing, insight, or connection—and instead felt confused, detached, or flat. The mismatch between what you hoped for and what occurred can deepen the distress.

What Psychedelic Integration Can Offer

The good news is that a difficult trip doesn’t mean something is wrong with you—and you don’t have to stay stuck in the aftershocks. Psychedelic integration is the process of making sense of the experience, emotionally digesting it, and using it as an opportunity for growth, insight, and healing.

In therapy, integration often looks like:

• Understanding your nervous system’s response: Exploring how your body reacted during or after the experience—fight, flight, freeze, dissociation—and how that might relate to past patterns of survival.

• Making meaning of what surfaced: Looking at the images, emotions, or messages that came up—not to “decode” them like a puzzle, but to reflect on what they might be pointing toward in your life.

• Supporting self-compassion: So many people blame themselves after a difficult trip—“I should’ve known better,” “I failed,” “I’m broken.” Integration creates space to meet those parts of you with curiosity instead of judgment.

• Grounding back into the present: Using body-based practices, mindfulness, and creative expression to reconnect with the here-and-now, especially if you're feeling disconnected or altered.

What Integration Can Look Like

Jordan (not his real name) took LSD in a social setting and became overwhelmed by the sense that everyone around him was silently judging him. In the days that followed, he couldn’t stop replaying the night—cringing at what he said, convinced he had embarrassed himself. Through integration work, Jordan began to recognize that the experience tapped into a deeper sensitivity to social rejection—shaped not only by family dynamics, but by earlier peer experiences as well. Learning to notice and soothe that part of himself helped quiet the inner critic and rebuild a sense of connection.

Maya (not her real name) took MDMA hoping to process unresolved grief but felt emotionally numb throughout the experience. Afterwards, she questioned whether something was wrong with her—why hadn’t she felt anything? Integration helped Maya understand that the emotional flatness was a protective response, shaped by earlier experiences where vulnerability wasn’t safe. Naming this as protection—not failure—opened the door to relating to her emotions with more understanding and self-compassion.

Integration in Practice

You don’t have to dive straight into therapy to begin integrating. Here are a few ways to support yourself now:

Immediate Grounding

• Stay connected to basic routines: Sleep, meals, movement, hydration. Even if your inner world feels chaotic, consistent daily rhythms help signal safety to your nervous system.

• Talk to someone who won’t judge: Whether it’s a therapist, a trusted friend, or an integration circle, simply being heard and believed can help settle the nervous system.

• Avoid over-analyzing right away: The mind often scrambles to “figure it out.” Let things settle before trying to extract meaning.

Deeper Exploration (When you're ready)

• Somatic awareness: Begin to notice patterns of tension in the body—clenched jaw, tight chest, restlessness—and gently ask what they might be holding.

• Reconnect with values (ACT-inspired): Make a list of your core values. What really matters to you? Ask yourself if your experience pointed toward any unmet needs, unexpressed fears, or forgotten hopes.

• Creative expression: Journaling, drawing, movement, music—sometimes the unconscious communicates best through nonverbal channels.

You Don’t Have to Integrate Alone

If you find yourself feeling stuck, anxious, or haunted by the experience well after the fact, it may be time to seek support. Psychedelic integration therapy is not about pathologizing the experience—it’s about honoring its impact and creating space to relate to it in a different way.

There’s no one-size-fits-all path—but don't worry, while there are many options for integration, it is not your job to figure it all out on your own. With the right support, a skilled therapist can help you make sense of what you’re carrying and find the approaches that fit you.

And if therapy feels out of reach, there are free or low-cost integration circles available. For example, In the DC area, PATH: Psychedelic-Assisted Therapy & Healing offers donation-based integration groups open to the public.

Moving Forward

A “bad trip” doesn’t mean you’re damaged. It may simply mean that something was touched that deserves care, attention, and support.

With the right integration, even a painful experience can become a turning point—not because you force it to mean something, but because you learn to relate to yourself with greater honesty, compassion, and clarity.

Why You Freeze During Conflict: Understanding Shutdown Responses

You’re in the middle of a disagreement. Maybe with a partner. Maybe a friend, or a coworker. You want to speak—but suddenly, your throat tightens, your mind goes blank, and your body feels heavy. You’re flooded, frozen, or saying whatever you can to make the tension disappear.

It’s a deeply frustrating experience. You want to be heard. You want to assert yourself. But something takes over in those moments—something you can’t quite control.
That “something” is your nervous system doing what it learned to do: keep you safe.
And the good news? You can learn to work with your nervous system instead of feeling hijacked by it.

The Freeze Response: What It Is and Why It Happens

You may have heard of the fight-or-flight response—your body’s natural way of reacting to a perceived threat. But there’s another branch of this response that gets less attention: freeze (and its close cousin, fawn).

Freezing is the body’s way of saying: This is too much. I don’t know how to fight it or run from it, so I’m going to shut down to stay safe.
Think “deer in the headlights.” The system goes into pause mode, hoping that stillness will reduce danger.

For some, freeze blends into fawn—over-agreeing or appeasing to avoid conflict altogether.

This response is governed by your autonomic nervous system—meaning it happens automatically, outside of conscious control. It’s not something you choose. It’s something your body chooses for you, often based on past experience.

How Freezing Shows Up in Conflict

Freezing in conflict doesn’t always look like an obvious shutdown or collapse. It can be subtle, even invisible to others. It might look like:

• Going quiet or nodding in agreement, even if you disagree

• Feeling emotionally numb or “checked out”

• Seeming aloof or disengaged, when really you’re overwhelmed

• People-pleasing or agreeing just to end the discomfort

• Leaving the conversation abruptly

• Later feeling frustration, shame, or regret for not expressing yourself

Sometimes, people describe it as feeling like a child again—small, powerless, unsure of what they’re allowed to say.

And afterward, you might find yourself beating yourself up: Why didn’t I say something? What’s wrong with me? These voices can feel just as painful as the moment itself.

Where This Pattern Comes From

You weren’t born freezing in conflict. This response was shaped by experiences—often early ones—where conflict didn’t feel safe.

Maybe you grew up in a household where conflict meant yelling, stonewalling, or punishment. Maybe disagreements were never modeled, or you were taught to suppress your own needs to keep the peace. Over time, your nervous system learned: silence is safer than speaking up.

Freezing becomes a survival strategy—a way of protecting yourself from real or perceived relational threat. Even in adulthood, your system might default to that old response, especially when it senses similar cues: a raised voice, a critical tone, or the hint of disapproval.

How Therapy Can Help

The good news is: while you can’t just will yourself out of freezing, you can work with your nervous system in new ways—and therapy can be a powerful place to start.

Therapy can help you:

• Understand your freeze response without shame
  Naming the pattern and understanding where it came from is the first step to shifting it.

• Build awareness around your triggers
  When you can notice your body’s signals early, you have more choice about how to respond.

• Reconnect with your voice and emotions
  Therapy provides a safe, nonjudgmental space to practice expressing yourself—without fear of shutdown or rejection.

• Explore and heal the roots of the freeze
  Often, freezing is tied to past experiences of helplessness or disconnection. Healing those experiences can reduce their grip.

Therapy Approaches That Can Support This Work:

• Internal Family Systems (IFS):
  Helps you get to know and support the protective “parts” of you that shut down or go silent, and the vulnerable parts they protect.

• Experiential Psychodynamic Therapy:
  Explores early relational patterns and helps you begin to experience once-feared emotions in a safe setting, building new capacity for expression and connection.

• Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT):
  Supports you in becoming more present during difficult moments, observing anxious or avoidant thoughts without being controlled by them, and taking steps aligned with what matters most to you—even in the face of discomfort.

• EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing):
  Helps reprocess past experiences of fear, invalidation, or helplessness that might still be fueling the freeze.

• Somatic and Nervous System-Based Approaches:
  Support you in recognizing your body's cues, widening your “window of tolerance,” and building capacity to stay present during conflict.

A Final Word

Freezing in conflict doesn’t mean something is wrong with you. It means your system learned to protect you in ways that made sense at the time.
But while it may have served you once, it doesn’t have to run the show anymore.

With the right support, you can begin to understand your body’s patterns, reconnect with your voice, and respond to conflict in a way that feels more aligned with who you are now—not who you had to be then.

Over time, people often find they’re able to stay more present in difficult moments, speak up for themselves with clarity, and feel more connected—even in the midst of conflict.

Learn more about trauma therapy and how it can help you shift from shutdown to self-trust.

Anxiety at Night: Why Your Brain Won’t Shut Off and What to Do About It

You’re finally in bed. The lights are off. The day is over.

And your brain? It’s just getting started.

Thoughts begin spinning—about something you said, something you didn’t do, something that might happen tomorrow. You shift positions. Check the clock. Try a deep breath. But instead of winding down, your mind winds up. It can feel like there’s a spotlight on every worry, and nothing to distract you from it.

You finally get a quiet moment—and suddenly your brain decides now is the time to replay that awkward conversation from three days ago.

If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. Nighttime anxiety is incredibly common, and it’s not just in your head (well, it is—but it’s also in your nervous system). There are real reasons your brain struggles to settle at night, and thankfully, there are things you can do to shift the pattern.

Why Anxiety Gets Worse at Night

1. Fewer Distractions

During the day, you’re busy—meetings, errands, conversations. These things give your mind something else to focus on. At night, everything quiets down, and what’s been bubbling under the surface can suddenly feel loud.

2. The Nervous System Is Still Activated

Even if your day didn’t feel outwardly stressful, your body may still be holding tension. Without movement or stimulation to release it, that tension accumulates. When the body doesn’t shift into rest mode, the mind doesn’t either.

3. The Brain Tries to Problem-Solve

Your brain wants to help. And when things feel unresolved, it tends to go into fix-it mode—especially when you’re lying still. Unfortunately, trying to resolve life’s issues in the dark while half-tired rarely leads to peace.

4. Circadian Rhythm and Cortisol

Cortisol, the stress hormone, normally rises in the morning and drops at night. But if that rhythm is disrupted—by stress, trauma, or irregular sleep—it can spike at night, mimicking anxiety or amplifying it.

Common Patterns of Nighttime Anxiety

You may notice:

• Rumination: Replaying conversations or worrying about tomorrow

• Perfectionism flare-ups: Rehearsing unfinished tasks or imagined mistakes

• Somatic symptoms: Restlessness, racing heart, chest tightness

• Sleep dread: Worrying that you won’t fall asleep (which keeps you awake)

• Hyper-responsibility: Feeling like it’s all on you and cycling through what-ifs

What to Do About It

1. Soothe the Body to Settle the Mind

Your mind takes cues from your body. When your system is in a state of safety, your thoughts tend to follow.

• Try progressive muscle relaxation (tense and release one muscle group at a time)

• Use 4-7-8 breathing (inhale 4, hold 7, exhale 8) to slow your heart rate

• Place one hand on your chest and one on your belly—a grounding touch that signals calm

2. Externalize Your Thoughts

Trying not to think rarely works. Instead, give your thoughts a place to go.

• Keep a notebook next to your bed to jot things down

• Use a “thought parking” method: tell yourself, “This isn’t urgent. I can return to it with a clearer mind in the morning.”

3. Establish a Consistent Wind-Down Routine

You don’t need a perfect routine—just something that gently signals “the day is done.”

• Dim lights, unplug screens, and reduce stimulation 30–60 minutes before bed

• If you’re lying in bed and can’t settle, get up and do something quiet for a few minutes before returning

• Try a calming phrase: “I’ve done enough for today. Now it’s time to rest.”

4. Reframe What’s Happening

Nighttime anxiety isn’t a character flaw—it’s a nervous system still in overdrive, trying to help. It may be trying to prevent future mistakes, manage uncertainty, or resolve something that feels unfinished.

You’re not spiraling—you’re over-activated. And that’s something that can be worked with.

When to Consider Therapy

If nighttime anxiety is frequent, disruptive, or tied to deeper fears or past experiences, therapy can help. You don’t have to white-knuckle your way through it.

A skilled therapist can support you in:

• Regulating your nervous system

• Identifying and shifting anxiety patterns

• Exploring what your anxiety is trying to protect

• Building emotional flexibility and a more supportive relationship with your thoughts

Therapeutic Approaches That Can Help:

• Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT)
  CBT helps you identify and challenge thought patterns that fuel anxiety—like catastrophizing or taking on unrealistic responsibility. It's especially helpful for breaking the thought-symptom-sleeplessness loop that keeps you up at night.

• Experiential Psychodynamic Therapy
  This approach helps you get underneath the anxiety—uncovering the emotional themes (like shame, helplessness, or fear of disapproval) that may be fueling it. By gently processing those feelings, the nighttime pressure can ease.

• Internal Family Systems (IFS)
  IFS helps you relate to the different “parts” of yourself—like the anxious protector, the overachiever, or the perfectionist—with curiosity rather than conflict. This can reduce internal pressure and restore balance.

• EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing)
  EMDR can help if your nighttime anxiety is linked to past trauma or emotionally charged memories. It supports the brain in reprocessing those experiences so they don’t keep showing up uninvited at bedtime.

Final Thoughts

You’re not broken because your brain won’t shut off at night. You’re human. And your system is trying to keep you safe—even if the timing is inconvenient.

There are gentle ways to work with that over-activation. Rest doesn’t have to be forced—it can be something you build gradually, by helping your system feel safe enough to let go.

Learn more about how anxiety therapy can help.

Signs of Unresolved Trauma: What to Look For

When people hear the word trauma, they often think of extreme events—combat, natural disasters, or violence. And while those experiences can absolutely be traumatic, trauma is ultimately less about the event itself and more about the impact it has on the nervous system.

Trauma happens when something overwhelms your ability to cope. It can result from sudden shocks or from slow-building stress over time—like emotional neglect, chronic invalidation, or growing up in an environment that didn’t feel safe. And for many people, the effects of trauma don’t go away just because the event is in the past.

Unresolved trauma doesn’t always look like flashbacks or panic attacks. Sometimes, it shows up in subtle, quiet ways that shape how you think, feel, and relate to the world.

What Is Unresolved Trauma?

When trauma is unresolved, it means the body and mind haven’t fully integrated or processed what happened. You may not even remember the event clearly—or think of it as “that bad”—but your nervous system still responds as if the danger is ongoing.

Therapists often talk about something called the Window of Tolerance—the emotional bandwidth where we can process experience without becoming overwhelmed. Unresolved trauma can push you outside this window—into hyperarousal (anxiety, anger, hypervigilance) or hypoarousal (numbness, shutdown, fatigue). The trauma may be in the past, but your body and mind may still be bracing for impact.

You might think: “I know this person cares about me, but I keep waiting for them to leave.”
Or: “I’m safe now, but I still feel like I’m walking on eggshells.”

Common Signs of Unresolved Trauma

Not everyone experiences trauma the same way. But here are some signs that past experiences may still be affecting you:

1. Emotional Reactivity or Numbness

You might find yourself overreacting to small stressors—or not reacting at all. Trauma can push your system into states of high alert or total shutdown. For example, someone might freeze or go blank during a difficult conversation—not because they don’t care, but because their nervous system perceives danger.

2. Chronic Anxiety or Hypervigilance

Even when things seem fine, your body may stay on high alert. You might constantly scan for danger, anticipate worst-case scenarios, or find it difficult to relax, especially in relationships.

3. People-Pleasing and Avoiding Conflict

If you grew up in an emotionally unsafe environment, you may have learned to keep the peace at all costs. People-pleasing becomes a way to avoid rejection or emotional backlash—but it often comes at the expense of your own needs and boundaries.

4. Difficulty Trusting Others—or Yourself

You may question others’ motives, constantly seek reassurance, or doubt your own decisions—even when there’s no clear reason for the mistrust. Trauma often disrupts your internal sense of safety and clarity.

5. Feeling Stuck or Shut Down

Unresolved trauma often shows up as a sense of immobility—like part of you is frozen in place. This can feel like chronic procrastination, lack of motivation, or a deep disconnection from what you want.

6. Disconnection from Your Body or Emotions

Many people with trauma feel detached from their physical or emotional experiences. You might not notice when you're overwhelmed until you crash, or struggle to put feelings into words. This disconnection is protective—but can make healing feel out of reach.

7. Physical or Cognitive Symptoms

Trauma often affects the body as much as the mind. You might notice:

• Chronic fatigue or muscle tension

• Digestive issues

• Frequent headaches

• Difficulty concentrating or remembering things

These symptoms can be misdiagnosed or dismissed—but they often reflect a nervous system under strain.

How Trauma Affects Daily Life

Unresolved trauma doesn’t stay neatly tucked away. It can ripple out into nearly every area of life:

• Relationships: Trouble with trust, fear of vulnerability, or poor boundaries

• Work: Perfectionism, fear of failure, or shutting down under pressure

• Health: Ongoing physical symptoms that don’t resolve with typical treatments

Sometimes people live for years—decades even—managing these symptoms without realizing they’re connected to earlier experiences.

How Therapy Can Help

You don’t have to untangle this alone. Therapy can offer a safe space to begin making sense of what you’ve carried—and to stop blaming yourself for the ways you’ve adapted.

A trauma-informed therapist can help you:

• Understand your symptoms as survival responses, not personal failures

• Rebuild a sense of safety and connection, both internally and in relationships

• Begin to process difficult emotions and memories without becoming overwhelmed

• Learn tools for regulating your nervous system and feeling more at home in your body

Different therapeutic approaches can support this work:

• EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) helps reprocess trauma so it feels less emotionally charged

• Somatic therapies focus on how trauma lives in the body and teach ways to release stored tension or freeze responses

• Trauma-informed CBT can help shift unhelpful thought patterns linked to fear or shame

• AEDP (Accelerated Experiential Dynamic Psychotherapy) may help when trauma is rooted in attachment wounds or early emotional experiences. It focuses on restoring emotional processing through a strong therapeutic relationship

• IFS (Internal Family Systems) helps you connect with the different “parts” of yourself—like the inner critic, the people-pleaser, or the protector—and relate to them with compassion rather than conflict

There’s no one-size-fits-all path. And while there are many ways to approach trauma treatment, it’s not your job to figure it all out alone. With the right support, a skilled therapist can help you make sense of what you’re carrying and find the approaches that fit you.

Learn more about how trauma therapy can help.