Therapy Is Not Linear: How Growth Often Looks Like Setbacks

When people start therapy, it’s natural to hope for steady progress—like climbing a staircase where every step takes you higher. But healing rarely follows a straight line. More often, it feels like three steps forward, two steps back, circling around the same themes, or even sliding into old patterns just when you thought you’d moved past them.

This can be discouraging if you don’t expect it. But in truth, these “setbacks” are part of the healing process. Therapy is not linear because growth is not linear.

Why Healing Feels Like Going Backwards

1. The Nervous System Heals in Layers
   Trauma, stress, or long-held patterns don’t unravel all at once. As your system feels safer, deeper material may surface. What looks like regression is often a sign that your body-mind is ready to process something new.

2. Old Coping Mechanisms Get Triggered
   When life gets stressful, it’s normal to reach for old habits. Falling back into avoidance, numbing, or overthinking doesn’t erase progress—it shows where more compassion and support are needed.

3. Awareness Comes Before Change
   In therapy, you often notice unhealthy dynamics long before you can act differently. Becoming aware of a pattern might make it feel worse at first because you can’t ignore it anymore. That awareness is progress.

The Spiral of Healing

Think of growth less as a straight road and more as a spiral staircase. You may circle back to the same themes—abandonment, shame, self-doubt—but each time you meet them with a little more perspective, a little more strength, and a little more self-compassion.

The issue hasn’t “come back.” You’re simply seeing it from a deeper vantage point.

Signs You’re Still Growing—Even If It Doesn’t Feel Like It

• You recover faster from old triggers.

• You can name your feelings instead of being swept away by them.

• You notice the urge to fall back into a pattern, even if you sometimes still act on it.

• You’re kinder to yourself after a setback.

• You reach for support instead of isolating.

These may seem small, but they are powerful markers of healing.

How to Work with the Ups and Downs

1. Expect Waves, Not Ladders
   Progress often looks like waves—ebb and flow, rise and fall. Trust that the tide is still moving forward overall.

2. Celebrate Small Shifts
   Instead of waiting for total transformation, notice moments of softness, new choices, or deeper awareness.

3. Practice Self-Compassion
   Growth slows down when shame takes over. Remind yourself: “Struggling doesn’t mean I’ve failed—it means I’m human.”

4. Talk About It in Therapy
   If you feel stuck or like you’re regressing, bring it into the room. Often, these “stuck” moments reveal the most important material to work with.

The Truth About Setbacks

Setbacks don’t erase progress. They highlight the edges where healing is still unfolding. Therapy is about building capacity—capacity to hold your feelings, to tolerate uncertainty, to choose differently, to stay present with yourself and others.

When you stumble, it doesn’t mean you’re back at the start. It means you’re on the path.

Healing is not about never struggling again. It’s about becoming someone who can face struggles with more resilience, awareness, and compassion than before.

The Narcissistic Father: Behaviours and Their Lasting Impact on Children

Growing up with a narcissistic father can shape a child’s inner world in ways that last well into adulthood. On the surface, he may appear charming, successful, or devoted. Behind closed doors, however, his behaviour is often driven by self-interest, control, and the need to maintain his image—rather than genuine care for his children.

Common Behaviours of a Narcissistic Father

• Conditional love and approval – Affection, praise, and attention are given only when the child reflects well on him.

• Emotional neglect – He shows little real curiosity about the child’s feelings or needs unless they serve his own.

• Criticism and belittling – He chips away at self-esteem with mocking, dismissive, or demeaning comments.

• Control and dominance – Children are expected to obey and conform, with little room for independence.

• Competition – If a child outshines him, he may respond with jealousy or hostility.

• Enmeshment – Children may be used to meet his emotional needs, becoming confidants or sources of admiration.

• Favouritism and scapegoating – One child may be the “golden child” who can do no wrong, while another is cast as the “scapegoat,” blamed and criticised.

• Lack of empathy – Vulnerability is dismissed, punished, or ignored.

• Image management – Publicly he may act the role of the perfect father, while privately being harsh or neglectful.

• Manipulation through guilt or fear – Compliance is often secured by making the child feel selfish, ungrateful, or afraid of rejection.

The Long-Term Impact on Children

The effects of these patterns don’t stop in childhood. Adult children of narcissistic fathers often carry deep wounds, such as:

• Low self-worth – A persistent belief of never being good enough.

• Weak boundaries – Difficulty saying no or trusting their own needs.

• Perfectionism – Overachieving to earn validation, often at the cost of wellbeing.

• People-pleasing – Putting others first out of fear of rejection.

• Fear of criticism – A tendency to self-censor or avoid risks.

• Intimacy struggles – Difficulty trusting, opening up, or feeling deserving in relationships.

• Repetition of unhealthy dynamics – Being drawn to partners who are controlling, critical, or emotionally distant.

• Guilt and shame – A deep-seated feeling that something is inherently wrong with them.

• Emotional suppression – Trouble recognising or expressing feelings.

• Identity confusion – Uncertainty about who they are outside of others’ expectations.

The Roles of “Golden Child” and “Scapegoat”

Narcissistic fathers often divide their children into roles. The golden child is idealised, praised, and used as an extension of the father’s ego. This child often grows up with intense pressure to perform, alongside guilt for secretly feeling unseen or trapped. The scapegoat, on the other hand, receives the blame for family problems, criticism, or rejection. They often internalise shame and develop resilience, but at great emotional cost.

Both roles are damaging, and both prevent children from being valued simply for who they are.

Moving Forward

Healing from a narcissistic father’s influence involves reclaiming one’s sense of worth and boundaries. Therapy, support groups, and compassionate relationships can help individuals untangle what belongs to them and what was projected onto them. The journey is about learning to see oneself not through the distorted mirror of a narcissistic parent, but with clarity, compassion, and self-respect.

Emotional Sobriety: Finding Ground After Over-Identification

We often think of sobriety in terms of substances—alcohol, drugs, or other addictions. But there’s another kind of sobriety that is just as vital for inner freedom: emotional sobriety. Coined by psychologist and author Tian Dayton and developed further by others in the recovery field, emotional sobriety refers to the ability to stay grounded, balanced, and centered even when our emotions feel overwhelming.

It’s about learning how to be with our feelings without becoming consumed by them.

What Is Over-Identification?

Over-identification happens when we become so merged with a feeling or thought that we become it. For example:

• Anger rises, and suddenly we are nothing but angry.

• Fear shows up, and the whole world feels dangerous.

• Sadness comes, and we feel swallowed by despair.

In these moments, there’s no distance between us and the emotion. We lose perspective, and the emotion drives our behaviour, decisions, and relationships.

The Essence of Emotional Sobriety

Emotional sobriety doesn’t mean suppressing or denying emotions. Instead, it means:

• Recognising: “This is anger” rather than “I am anger.”

• Feeling: allowing the emotion to be present without resisting or amplifying it.

• Grounding: returning to a deeper sense of self that is bigger than the temporary emotional wave.

It’s the shift from drowning in the storm to being the steady ship that can sail through it.

Why It Matters

When we lack emotional sobriety, we’re at the mercy of our inner weather. Small triggers can spiral into conflict, withdrawal, or self-sabotage. Relationships suffer. Our sense of safety feels fragile.

But when we cultivate emotional sobriety, life changes:

• We can feel intensely without being destabilised.

• We respond rather than react.

• We regain choice, even in painful or chaotic moments.

Practices for Cultivating Emotional Sobriety

1. Name the Emotion
   Simply putting words to what you feel—“I’m noticing sadness”—creates a small but powerful separation.

2. Breathe and Ground
   Feel your feet on the floor. Notice your breath. Anchor into the body as a reminder you are here, not swept away.

3. Witness Rather than Merge
   Imagine your emotion as a visitor knocking at your door. You can invite it in, listen, but you don’t have to hand it the keys to the house.

4. Challenge Absolutes
   Notice when your mind says “always” or “never.” Emotions distort perspective. Gently remind yourself: “This feeling is real, but it isn’t the whole truth.”

5. Develop a Centering Practice
   Meditation, journaling, walking in nature, or breathwork can all strengthen the inner observer—the part of you that notices without being consumed.

From Over-Identification to Inner Balance

Emotions are vital—they carry wisdom, signal our needs, and bring depth to life. But they are not meant to define our entire being. Emotional sobriety is about remembering that you are more than what you feel in this moment.

Like waves on the ocean, feelings rise and fall. Beneath them, there is a vast depth of presence, stability, and clarity that is always available. Learning to rest there—even in small moments—is the essence of emotional sobriety.

Emotional sobriety doesn’t mean becoming less emotional—it means becoming freer, wiser, and more whole in the way you relate to your inner world.

5 Drivers: Understanding and Releasing Unhelpful Inner Messages

Have you ever noticed a little voice inside urging you to “be perfect” or “hurry up”—even when it leaves you stressed, exhausted, or never quite good enough? These voices are what psychologist Taibi Kahler (1975) called the “Five Drivers.” They are powerful unconscious messages we absorb in childhood to gain love, approval, or safety, and while they once helped us cope, they often keep us stuck in self-defeating patterns as adults.

The Five Drivers

Each driver has its own way of shaping how we think, feel, and behave:

1. Please Others

   • Core message: “I am only okay if others like me.”

   • How it shows up: Over-focusing on others’ needs, difficulty saying no, fear of rejection.

   • Cost: You may lose touch with your own needs and struggle with resentment or burnout.

2. Be Strong

   • Core message: “I mustn’t show weakness.”

   • How it shows up: Hiding feelings, pushing through difficulties alone, not asking for help.

   • Cost: Emotional disconnection, loneliness, or health problems from bottled-up stress.

3. Hurry Up

   • Core message: “You must do everything quickly.”

   • How it shows up: Talking fast, rushing tasks, feeling restless if things move slowly.

   • Cost: Anxiety, mistakes, and difficulty being present in the moment.

4. Try Hard

   • Core message: “It only counts if I struggle.”

   • How it shows up: Putting in effort without achieving results, difficulty finishing things, overworking.

   • Cost: Wasted energy, frustration, and never feeling satisfied.

5. Be Perfect

   • Core message: “Mistakes are not allowed.”

   • How it shows up: Setting impossibly high standards, fear of failure, procrastination.

   • Cost: Paralysis, exhaustion, and a harsh inner critic.

How and Why They Form

Drivers usually develop in childhood when we unconsciously pick up on the conditions of worth offered by caregivers, teachers, or authority figures.

• A child praised for being polite may learn to “Please Others.”

• A child told to stop crying may learn to “Be Strong.”

• A child constantly hurried along may develop “Hurry Up.”

• A child praised for effort but not results may adopt “Try Hard.”

• A child rewarded for flawless work may internalize “Be Perfect.”

In those moments, the driver becomes a survival strategy: “If I live this way, I’ll be safe, loved, or accepted.” But what kept us safe as children often becomes restrictive and stressful in adulthood.

How to Overcome the Drivers

The goal is not to erase these patterns completely—they once served you—but to loosen their grip and reclaim freedom.

1. Notice the driver in action
   Begin by observing when your driver shows up. Do you hear yourself apologizing constantly (Please Others) or racing through tasks (Hurry Up)? Awareness is the first step.

2. Challenge the inner message
   Replace the harsh driver voice with a healthier permission message. For example:

   • Instead of “I must please others,” try “My needs matter too.”

   • Instead of “Be perfect,” try “Good enough is enough.”

3. Practice opposite behaviours

   • Say no kindly when you want to.

   • Share vulnerability instead of always “being strong.”

   • Slow down deliberately.

   • Focus on completing rather than endlessly “trying hard.”

   • Allow small mistakes without punishment.

4. Reframe the strengths
   Each driver has a positive side:

   • Please Others → empathy and kindness.

   • Be Strong → resilience.

   • Hurry Up → efficiency.

   • Try Hard → perseverance.

   • Be Perfect → attention to detail.
     By balancing the driver with self-compassion, you can keep the strength without the stress.

Stepping Into Freedom

The five drivers remind us of how our earliest coping strategies can turn into lifelong patterns. But by becoming aware of them, challenging their messages, and practicing new choices, we can step into a more balanced, authentic way of being.

When you begin to replace “I must” with “I choose,” you move from survival into freedom.

Which of the five drivers feels most familiar to you? Gently noticing it in your daily life could be the first step toward loosening its hold.

The Body as Storyteller: Listening to Somatic Wisdom

Our bodies hold stories that words cannot always tell. Long before the mind can form language, the body is already speaking—through tension, fatigue, posture, breath, and sensation. When we learn to listen, we discover that the body is not only a vessel that carries us through life, but also a storyteller that remembers, expresses, and guides.

The Body Remembers

Trauma researchers often remind us that the body “keeps the score.” Experiences of stress, loss, or fear may be held in the nervous system and muscles long after the conscious mind has moved on. We might notice:

• A clenched jaw during conflict.

• Shoulders tightening when we feel unsafe.

• A heavy chest when grief arises.

• A sudden burst of energy when excitement or danger is near.

These are not random reactions—they are messages. The body is telling the story of our lives, even when we are not fully aware of it.

Somatic Wisdom vs. Mental Narratives

The mind often tries to override or explain away body signals. We push through exhaustion, ignore hunger, or dismiss tension as “just stress.” Yet the body’s wisdom is immediate and authentic—it doesn’t lie, even when our thoughts are tangled.

Where the mind says, “I’m fine,” the body might say, “I’m overwhelmed.”
Where the mind says, “I should be over this by now,” the body whispers, “Not yet, I’m still holding on.”

Learning to trust the body’s language brings us closer to truth.

Practices for Listening to the Body

Cultivating somatic awareness can feel strange at first, especially if you’ve been disconnected from your body due to stress or trauma. Start small:

1. Body Scanning
   Take a few minutes to gently scan from head to toe, noticing areas of tension, warmth, or numbness.

2. Name Sensations
   Try describing what you feel in simple words: “tight,” “tingly,” “heavy,” “buzzing,” “numb.” Naming sensations helps bridge body awareness with the conscious mind.

3. Movement as Expression
   Let the body “speak” through stretching, shaking, dancing, or walking. Sometimes movement communicates what words cannot.

4. Breath Awareness
   Notice the rhythm of your breath. Shallow? Deep? Tight? The breath often reveals hidden states of mind and emotion.

5. Gentle Stimulation
   If you feel very disconnected, try grounding practices—pressing your feet into the floor, gently pinching your skin, or using water (like a cool or warm shower) to wake up sensation.

When the Body Speaks of Pain

Sometimes the body tells its stories through chronic pain, fatigue, or illness. This does not mean suffering is “all in your head.” It means that body and mind are inseparable, and the story may need to be heard on both levels. Attending to physical symptoms with compassion—while also exploring emotional roots—can bring a fuller kind of healing.

The Gift of Somatic Listening

Listening to the body is an act of respect. It says: “I am here, I am listening, you matter.” Over time, this practice can transform how we live—helping us set boundaries, honor needs, process old pain, and experience more joy.

The body is always speaking. The question is: can we slow down enough to hear its wisdom?

Your body is not betraying you—it is telling you its truth. Listening is the first step toward healing.

From Self-Abandonment to Self-Attunement

Many of us have learned to survive by leaving ourselves behind. We push down our feelings, silence our needs, and present a version of ourselves we hope will be acceptable to others. This pattern—known as self-abandonment—often begins in childhood when love, safety, or belonging seemed conditional.

Healing means slowly learning the opposite: self-attunement. This is the practice of turning inward with curiosity, compassion, and care, listening to ourselves in the same way we might listen to a loved one.

What Is Self-Abandonment?

Self-abandonment happens when we:

• Ignore or dismiss our emotions (“I shouldn’t feel this way”).

• Silence our voice to avoid conflict.

• Override our body’s signals of hunger, fatigue, or pain.

• Seek validation from others instead of trusting our own knowing.

While these strategies may have once kept us safe, over time they leave us disconnected and empty. We may struggle with low self-worth, anxiety, or a feeling of not really existing.

The Roots of Self-Abandonment

Self-abandonment is often rooted in:

• Childhood trauma or neglect – When expressing feelings wasn’t safe or our needs weren’t met.

• Cultural and family messages – Such as “don’t be selfish,” “be strong,” or “don’t make a fuss.”

• Survival strategies – People-pleasing, perfectionism, or numbing out became ways to cope.

These patterns were adaptive once. But as adults, they can prevent us from feeling alive and connected.

What Is Self-Attunement?

Self-attunement is the practice of turning toward ourselves with awareness. It means:

• Noticing feelings as they arise, without judgment.

• Listening to the body and respecting its limits.

• Asking, “What do I need right now?”

• Meeting ourselves with kindness, even when we are struggling.

It is the process of coming home to ourselves.

How to Move Toward Self-Attunement

Healing from self-abandonment takes patience and practice. Some steps include:

1. Pause and Check In
   Take a few moments each day to notice your body, breath, and mood. Ask, “How am I feeling right now?”

2. Name What You Feel
   Putting words to sensations—“I feel tired,” “I feel anxious,” “I feel hungry”—builds awareness and trust.

3. Honor Small Needs
   Responding to simple signals (resting when tired, drinking water when thirsty) teaches the nervous system that your needs matter.

4. Challenge Old Messages
   When you hear the inner critic say, “You don’t deserve that,” gently remind yourself: “My needs are valid.”

5. Practice Self-Compassion
   Speak to yourself as you would to a dear friend—especially in moments of pain.

The Role of Therapy

In therapy, the relationship itself can be a model of attunement. A compassionate therapist offers a steady presence, helping you reconnect with parts of yourself you may have long abandoned. Over time, you internalize this care and learn to turn it inward.

A Gentle Reminder

Self-attunement is not about becoming perfect at listening to yourself. It is about building a relationship with yourself based on respect and care. Each small step you take—whether noticing a feeling, honoring a limit, or offering yourself kindness—is a movement from abandonment to belonging.

Healing begins when you remember: you are worth staying with.

Understanding Boundaries of Contact: Projection, Introjection, Retroflection, Confluence, and Egotism

In Gestalt therapy, there’s a concept called “contact boundaries.” These boundaries are the places where we meet the world—where I end and you begin. Ideally, they help us stay connected while also maintaining a healthy sense of self.

When life is stressful or overwhelming, these boundaries can get blurred or distorted. Gestalt therapy describes five common patterns: projection, introjection, retroflection, confluence, and egotism. These aren’t “bad” in themselves—they’re ways we adapt to survive. But if they become fixed patterns, they can leave us feeling stuck or disconnected.

Let’s look at each one.

Projection: “It’s You, Not Me”

Projection happens when we attribute to others feelings, thoughts, or qualities we can’t acknowledge in ourselves.

• Example: Feeling angry but accusing others of being hostile.

• Why it happens: Owning certain feelings may feel unsafe, so we put them outside ourselves.

• Impact: Projection can block self-awareness and strain relationships, because others may feel blamed for things that don’t belong to them.

Introjection: “Swallowing Whole”

Introjection is when we take in others’ beliefs, rules, or values without questioning if they truly fit us.

• Example: Living by the belief “I must always put others first” because that’s what you were taught, even if it exhausts you.

• Why it happens: As children, we need guidance. Sometimes we absorb too much without ever digesting or testing it.

• Impact: We may lose touch with our authentic wants and needs, living by “shoulds” rather than genuine choice.

Retroflection: “Turning It Back on Myself”

Retroflection occurs when energy meant to go outward is turned inward instead.

• Example: Wanting to express anger but suppressing it and instead tensing your body, self-criticizing, or even self-harming.

• Why it happens: Direct expression may have felt dangerous in the past, so the energy gets redirected inward.

• Impact: Retroflection can lead to physical tension, depression, or self-attack instead of healthy self-expression.

Confluence: “No Boundary Between Us”

Confluence happens when the boundary between self and other becomes blurred—we merge so much with another person or group that differences disappear.

• Example: Always agreeing with a partner to avoid conflict, or losing your own opinions in a group.

• Why it happens: Belonging and harmony may feel safer than risking difference.

• Impact: Confluence can erode individuality. Without differences, true intimacy—two distinct people meeting—becomes difficult.

Egotism: “Stuck at the Boundary”

Egotism is when self-consciousness gets in the way of spontaneous contact. Instead of being present, we get caught up in controlling, performing, or watching ourselves.

• Example: Being so self-aware in conversation that you can’t relax or genuinely connect.

• Why it happens: A way to protect against vulnerability or unpredictability.

• Impact: The flow of contact is interrupted. Connection becomes more about image or control than genuine meeting.

Why This Matters

These patterns are not “wrong” or “bad.” They developed to help us cope with life. The key is noticing when they limit us:

• Are you blaming others for feelings that might be yours (projection)?

• Living by “rules” that don’t serve you (introjection)?

• Turning anger against yourself (retroflection)?

• Losing your individuality in relationships (confluence)?

• Or watching yourself so closely you can’t relax (egotism)?

Awareness is the first step toward choice. Once you can see the pattern, you can ask: What do I really need here?

Stepping Toward Healthier Contact

Healing is not about eliminating these patterns but about restoring flexibility. In therapy, you can experiment with:

• Owning your feelings instead of projecting.

• Chewing and digesting beliefs—keeping what fits, letting go of what doesn’t.

• Expressing energy outward safely instead of turning it inward.

• Differentiating yourself while still staying connected.

• Relaxing control and allowing genuine, present contact.

At their heart, these boundary disturbances show us where we’ve learned to protect ourselves. With awareness and compassion, they can become doorways back into deeper connection—with ourselves and with others.

Denial, Disavowal, and Desensitization: Three Ways We Distance Ourselves from Pain

When life becomes overwhelming, our minds and bodies have ways of protecting us. Sometimes these protections are so subtle and automatic that we don’t even realize they’re happening. Denial, disavowal, and desensitization are three such defenses. While they can help us survive difficult times, they may also block us from healing when they linger too long.

Let’s explore what they mean, how they show up, and how we can work with them compassionately.

Denial: “This Isn’t Happening”

Denial is perhaps the most well-known defense. It happens when we refuse—consciously or unconsciously—to accept reality because it feels too painful or threatening.

• Examples: A person insists a relationship is fine even when it’s falling apart. Someone with symptoms avoids going to the doctor, saying, “It’s nothing.”

• Why it helps: Denial gives us breathing space. It protects us from shock, grief, or fear until we’re ready to face it.

• The risk: If we stay in denial too long, we can’t address real problems, and they may grow bigger.

Disavowal: “That’s True, But Not for Me”

Disavowal is a close cousin of denial. Instead of completely rejecting reality, we acknowledge it—but distance ourselves from its meaning or impact.

• Examples: Saying, “Yes, people get hurt in car accidents, but it won’t happen to me.” Or “I know I was treated badly, but it didn’t affect me.”

• Why it helps: Disavowal allows us to function without being weighed down by anxiety or vulnerability. It creates a sense of control.

• The risk: By pushing away the personal impact, we may minimize our own pain or needs, leaving parts of us unheard.

Desensitization: “I Don’t Feel It Anymore”

Desensitization happens when repeated exposure to stress, trauma, or even everyday pressures dulls our sensitivity. What once felt sharp and painful starts to feel muted or normal.

• Examples: Becoming so used to criticism that you barely notice it anymore. Or not realizing how stressed you are because constant tension feels like your “normal.”

• Why it helps: Desensitization numbs the edges of pain, making it easier to carry on.

• The risk: When we can’t feel the weight of what’s happening, we might tolerate unhealthy situations or ignore warning signs in our bodies and relationships.

How These Defenses Serve Us—and When They Don’t

It’s important to remember: these defenses aren’t flaws. They’re brilliant survival strategies created by the mind and body to help us cope. The problem isn’t that they exist—it’s when they become our default way of being, cutting us off from truth, feeling, and connection.

• Denial keeps us from seeing.

• Disavowal keeps us from owning.

• Desensitization keeps us from feeling.

Healing means gently inviting ourselves back to seeing, owning, and feeling—at a pace that feels safe.

Pathways Toward Healing

If you notice yourself leaning on denial, disavowal, or desensitization, here are some compassionate steps:

1. Notice with curiosity, not judgment. Ask yourself: Am I avoiding? Am I distancing? Am I numb? Awareness itself is healing.

2. Name what you can. Even saying, “I think I might be in denial about this,” is a way of cracking the door open.

3. Start small. If reality feels too big to face, work with a piece of it.

4. Reconnect with sensation. For desensitization, simple grounding practices (feeling your feet on the floor, holding something warm or cold) can begin to wake up the body.

5. Seek support. A therapist can help you hold what feels too much to hold alone.

A Compassionate Perspective

Denial, disavowal, and desensitization aren’t signs of weakness—they’re signs of strength. They show that your mind and body have been doing everything they can to keep you safe. Healing doesn’t mean ripping them away. It means slowly, safely learning that you no longer need them in the same way.

What once protected you can now be thanked, and gently set aside, as you step into greater truth, presence, and connection.

Reconnecting with Your Body After Trauma: Learning to Hear What It’s Saying

For many people who’ve experienced trauma, the body stops feeling like a safe place. Instead of being an ally that communicates hunger, rest, pleasure, or fear, the body can feel overwhelming—or even invisible. One common survival strategy is to disconnect: to numb out, live in the head, and ignore the signals that rise up from inside.

This disconnection is protective in the short term. When overwhelming pain, fear, or violation occurs, shutting down awareness can be the only way to cope. But over time, this disconnection means missing important cues: not realising you’re tired until you collapse, not noticing tension until it becomes pain, or overlooking emotions until they explode.

Healing involves gently learning to hear the body’s language again. It takes patience, kindness, and practice.

Why Trauma Creates Disconnection

• Overwhelm of sensation: Trauma floods the nervous system with sensations (racing heart, shaking, tight chest) that can feel unbearable. The body learns to mute them.

• Safety strategy: Numbing out or dissociating reduces pain in the moment.

• Learned patterns: If no one modelled safe emotional expression or bodily awareness, tuning in may never have been encouraged.

Disconnection is not permanent—it’s an adaptation. And what’s been learned can be unlearned.

When You Can’t Feel Anything at All

For some people, the body feels almost silent. No matter how hard you try to “tune in,” nothing seems to register. This isn’t failure—it’s the nervous system’s way of keeping you safe by turning down the volume on sensation.

If this is your experience, it can help to start with clear, tangible signals before moving toward more subtle awareness. A few gentle ways to spark sensation:

• Pinching the skin lightly: Pinch your arm or thigh between your fingers, noticing the pressure, warmth, or slight sting.

• Using water: A power shower head, or switching between warm and cool water, can give you distinct sensations to focus on.

• Textures and touch: Try holding rough, smooth, soft, or firm objects in your hands and noticing the contrast.

The goal here is not to overwhelm, but to use sharper, external sensations as a bridge. Over time, the body learns it is safe to notice quieter signals like breath, heartbeat, or gentle muscle tension.

Practices for Reconnecting with the Body

These practices are experiments in noticing. Always go at your own pace, and if something feels too much, step back and ground yourself in the present.

1. Body Scan with Curiosity

Bring your attention slowly from head to toe. Notice any areas of tension, warmth, tingling, or numbness. Don’t try to change anything—just name what you notice. Even “I feel nothing here” is valid.

2. Temperature Play

Hold something warm (a cup of tea) or cold (an ice cube wrapped in cloth) and simply notice how your skin responds. This trains attention to physical sensation in a safe, simple way.

3. Grounding Through the Senses

Pick one sense at a time. What can you see, hear, smell, touch, or taste right now? For example, press your feet into the floor and notice the pressure.

4. Gentle Movement

Stretch, do yoga, or take a slow walk. As you move, focus on how each muscle feels. Notice your breath as you shift.

5. Breath Awareness

Instead of changing your breathing, simply observe it. Where do you feel it most—your nose, chest, or belly? Can you feel the rise and fall?

6. Emotion Check-In

Set a timer once or twice a day. When it goes off, pause and ask: “What’s happening in my body right now?” Write down sensations, even if vague: “tight shoulders, heavy stomach, restless legs.”

Moving Toward Safety in the Body

Reconnecting with the body after trauma is not about forcing yourself to relive pain. It’s about slowly rebuilding trust with yourself—learning that sensations don’t have to be overwhelming or dangerous.

If you feel nothing at first, you’re still doing the work. Even numbness is a body signal—it’s your nervous system saying, “This was too much once.” By respecting even that, you are already listening to your body in a new way.

The body is not the enemy. It has always been trying to protect you. With care, patience, and practice, it can once again become a source of wisdom, grounding, and safety.

Alexithymia: When Feelings Have No Words

Have you ever felt something strongly in your body—tightness in your chest, heaviness in your stomach, a sudden burst of energy—but struggled to put it into words? For some people, this isn’t an occasional experience; it’s a way of life. This difficulty in identifying and describing emotions is called alexithymia.

It doesn’t mean a person has no feelings. Rather, it means the pathway between emotion and language is harder to access. Understanding this can bring compassion—for yourself or for someone you care about.

What Is Alexithymia?

The word comes from Greek: “a” (without), “lexis” (words), and “thymos” (emotions). Quite literally, it means “without words for emotions.”

Someone with alexithymia may:

• Struggle to identify what they are feeling beyond “good” or “bad”

• Have trouble describing emotions to others

• Confuse bodily sensations with emotions (e.g., thinking anxiety is indigestion)

• Find it hard to connect emotionally in relationships

Alexithymia is not a formal mental health diagnosis, but a trait that can show up on a spectrum—from mild difficulty to very pronounced challenges.

What Causes Alexithymia?

There isn’t one single cause. Often, it develops from a combination of factors:

1. Early childhood environment – If you grew up in a household where emotions weren’t named, validated, or safe to express, you may not have learned the “emotional vocabulary” needed to recognise feelings.

2. Trauma and neglect – Repeated experiences of overwhelm or dismissal of emotions can lead the nervous system to shut down awareness of feelings as a protective strategy.

3. Neurological differences – Alexithymia is more common in people with autism spectrum conditions, though not exclusive to them.

4. Cultural factors – In some families or communities, emotions are seen as weakness, so people learn to focus on actions and thoughts instead.

Is There a Solution?

While alexithymia isn’t something you simply “get rid of,” there are powerful ways to work with it and build emotional awareness over time.

1. Body Awareness

Emotions first show up as physical sensations. By noticing tension, temperature, or changes in breathing, you begin to map how feelings live in your body.

2. Building Emotional Vocabulary

Using emotion charts, journals, or even apps that list feelings can help expand the language available. Sometimes, naming even approximately (“I feel restless”) is a first step.

3. Therapy

Approaches like integrative psychotherapy, somatic therapy, or trauma-informed work provide safe spaces to explore what feelings might be hiding beneath numbness or confusion. Therapists often help clients link bodily sensations to emotions.

4. Mindfulness Practices

Slowing down and paying attention to subtle shifts in body and mind helps create space between sensation and reaction. Over time, this can sharpen emotional awareness.

5. Safe Relationships

Close, compassionate relationships can act as mirrors. When someone reflects back, “You seem sad,” or “I notice you’re tense when you talk about that,” it helps build emotional recognition.

A Gentle Reminder

Alexithymia is not a flaw or failure. It’s often the mind’s way of surviving environments where emotions felt unsafe or overwhelming. The very fact that you’re curious about it means you’re already moving toward greater self-awareness.

With patience and practice, emotions can shift from being confusing or hidden to becoming guides that enrich connection, communication, and healing.

Learning to name your feelings isn’t just about words—it’s about reclaiming the full depth of your inner life.

Feeling Is Not Regressing: Adult Emotional Development in Therapy

One of the most common fears people have in therapy is that if they express deep feelings—especially sadness, fear, or longing—they are somehow “going backwards.” Clients often say:
“I feel like a child.”
“I should be past this by now.”
“Crying makes me feel weak.”

But the truth is, feeling is not regressing. In fact, it is often a sign of growth, repair, and emotional development.

Why Old Feelings Show Up in Therapy

When we experience overwhelming events in childhood, our nervous system protects us the best way it can. Sometimes that means shutting down feelings we weren’t able to process back then. Those feelings don’t disappear—they wait.

Therapy provides a safe space where they can finally surface. This can feel disorienting: you may cry like you haven’t in years, long for care you didn’t get, or feel young and small. But rather than being a setback, this is often your system finally trusting enough to release what was buried.

The Myth of Regression

Regression implies a loss of progress, as if you are slipping backwards in maturity. But when old emotions come up, you are not becoming your younger self again—you are meeting the parts of yourself that never had the chance to grow.

Feeling those emotions is what allows integration. It’s not regression; it’s repair.

Adult Emotional Development

Emotional maturity isn’t about suppressing feelings. It’s about having the capacity to feel deeply without being overwhelmed, and to make sense of your experiences in new ways.

In therapy, you may:

• Grieve unmet needs from childhood

• Express anger you once had to hide

• Experience the comfort of being supported while vulnerable

• Revisit younger states of mind with adult awareness

Far from being childish, this process builds resilience, self-compassion, and a fuller range of emotional experience.

The Role of the Therapist

A therapist acts as a secure base, allowing you to explore these younger feelings safely. This is not about staying stuck in the past—it’s about giving those frozen parts the attention they need, so they no longer run your life unconsciously.

Moving Forward Through Feeling

Think of it this way: when you allow yourself to feel what once had to be hidden, you are actually moving forward. Emotional release clears space for new patterns of relating, loving, and living.

The Gentle Reminder

If you find yourself crying, longing, or feeling small in therapy, it doesn’t mean you’re broken or weak. It means your nervous system finally feels safe enough to do the work it couldn’t do before.

Feeling is not regressing—it is the very heart of healing.

Healing the Freeze: How to Befriend Emotional Numbness

When people think about trauma responses, “fight” and “flight” usually come to mind. But there’s another, quieter survival response that often goes unnoticed: freeze.

Freeze isn’t dramatic. It doesn’t draw attention. It feels like shutting down—going blank, going numb, or disappearing inside yourself. Many people who carry trauma find themselves stuck in this state, and then blame themselves for being “lazy,” “unmotivated,” or “emotionless.” But freeze isn’t a personal flaw. It’s a nervous system doing its best to keep you safe.

What Is the Freeze Response?

Freeze is the body’s emergency brake. When neither fighting nor running away seems possible, the nervous system protects you by going still—slowing everything down so you can survive overwhelming stress.

This can show up as:

• Emotional numbness

• Trouble making decisions

• Feeling cut off from your body

• Brain fog or “blanking out”

• A sense of being stuck in molasses

It can be confusing and frustrating, especially if you judge yourself for not being able to “just get on with it.”

Why Emotional Numbness Makes Sense

If you grew up with chaos, abuse, or neglect, freezing might have been your best chance of surviving situations you couldn’t escape. Shutting down your feelings wasn’t weakness—it was wisdom.

The problem is, when the nervous system stays locked in this pattern long after the danger has passed, numbness starts to interfere with living fully.

Healing the Freeze

The goal isn’t to “snap out of it” but to gently thaw. Befriending numbness means recognising it as a survival strategy, and slowly teaching your body it’s safe to feel again.

Here are some steps that help:

1. Acknowledge It Without Shame

Instead of telling yourself you’re broken, try: “This is my nervous system protecting me. Thank you—but I don’t need this as much anymore.”

2. Start Small With Sensation

Notice simple physical experiences: the warmth of tea, the weight of a blanket, the feel of your feet on the floor. Gentle sensory focus can begin to wake the body without overwhelming it.

3. Movement Over Motivation

When frozen, waiting for motivation doesn’t work. Small physical movements—stretching, shaking out your arms, even stepping outside for a breath of air—can help shift your state.

4. Safe Connection

Healing happens in relationship. A trusted friend, therapist, or support group can help you feel safe enough to unfreeze slowly. Even brief moments of authentic connection—eye contact, laughter, shared silence—are powerful.

5. Patience, Not Pressure

The freeze response took years to build. Thawing it takes time. Progress isn’t about never going numb again, but about recovering more gently when you do.

The Gentle Reframe

Freeze is not failure—it’s survival. Emotional numbness is your nervous system’s way of saying, “It was too much then.” Befriending it means recognising that you don’t have to fight your body.

With compassion, curiosity, and support, the frozen parts of you can begin to melt—revealing not weakness, but the incredible resilience that kept you here.

You are not broken—you’re healing in your own time.

Love After Survival Mode: Building Connection When You’ve Only Known Chaos

When you've spent most of your life in survival mode—constantly scanning for danger, adapting to unpredictability, and learning to keep yourself emotionally safe—love can feel like foreign territory. Intimacy, trust, consistency… these are not just new concepts; they can feel unsafe, even threatening.

So how do we build real connection when our nervous system only knows how to brace for impact?

Survival Mode Isn’t Just a Metaphor

Survival mode is a real physiological and psychological state. It’s the way your body and brain adapted to stay safe during prolonged stress, trauma, or instability. In this state:

• Hypervigilance becomes second nature.

• Emotional numbing feels safer than vulnerability.

• Independence becomes armor.

• Chaos becomes familiar—and calm feels suspicious.

If you grew up with emotional neglect, abuse, or unpredictability, your nervous system may have wired itself for self-protection, not connection.

And yet, the longing for love doesn’t disappear.

Why Love Feels So Hard After Trauma

When safety was never guaranteed, relationships become tricky territory. You might notice:

• You crave intimacy but push it away.

• You expect abandonment even when things are going well.

• You mistake anxiety for chemistry.

• You feel uncomfortable with consistency or peace.

This isn’t because you're broken. It's because your brain has learned to equate love with risk.

Relearning Safety in Connection

Love after survival mode means re-teaching your nervous system what safety feels like. And that takes time, patience, and self-compassion. Some practices that can help:

1. Name What’s Happening

Awareness is key. Notice when your survival responses get activated—when you're withdrawing, sabotaging, or feeling overwhelmed by closeness. Naming it as a trauma response, not a personal failing, helps shift the shame.

2. Start with Safe People

Practice being real with people who feel steady, kind, and non-reactive. This might be a friend, a therapist, or even a support group. Trust builds slowly, and small doses of safety add up.

3. Communicate Your Needs and Limits

You may not have learned how to say "I need space" or "That felt overwhelming." Learning to speak your truth, even clumsily, is a radical act of healing.

4. Expect Discomfort

Safe love might feel boring at first. Stability can seem dull compared to the highs and lows of chaos. Stay curious. What would it be like to give peace a chance to grow on you?

5. Go Gently With Yourself

There’s no timeline. Healing is not linear. You might take two steps forward and one back. That’s okay. Every attempt to love or be loved is an act of courage.

From Surviving to Relating

Being in survival mode teaches you how to protect yourself. But love asks something different: to reveal yourself. To allow closeness. To risk being seen.

This shift isn’t instant. It’s not about flipping a switch from guarded to open. It’s about slowly loosening the grip of old strategies and letting yourself try something new.

Love after survival mode is not impossible. It’s just unfamiliar.

But over time, with care, you can build relationships that feel less like a battlefield and more like a home.

The Art of Non-Doing: Rest or Resistance?

In a world that glorifies productivity, slowing down can feel radical — even rebellious. For many, the practice of non-doing becomes a gentle balm for burnout, a doorway to healing, or a reclaiming of inner pace. But what happens when non-doing becomes muddled with avoidance? How do we know when stillness is a gift to ourselves — and when it’s a clever disguise for procrastination?

Understanding the difference between non-doing as self-compassion and non-doing as self-defeat is key to building a more honest, nurturing relationship with ourselves.

Non-Doing as an Antidote to the “Hurry Up” Driver

Many of us carry an internal “Hurry Up” driver — an internalized voice rooted in early conditioning that urges us to rush, perform, and produce in order to be safe, worthy, or loved. In this context, non-doing becomes a radical act of self-compassion.

This kind of rest is conscious, intentional, and restorative. It might look like:

• Taking a quiet walk instead of answering another email

• Lying on the couch doing “nothing” and letting that be enough

• Saying no to extra obligations, even when they make us feel important

• Allowing the nervous system to reset through spaciousness and slowness

This form of non-doing is a yes to the self, even when it looks like a no to the world. It nourishes capacity, clarity, and long-term sustainability.

Non-Doing as Procrastination and Avoidance

But sometimes, non-doing isn’t restorative at all — it’s filled with guilt, dread, and low-level anxiety. This often signals that we’re not resting, we’re avoiding.

This version of non-doing might feel like:

• Scrolling endlessly while ignoring that difficult conversation you need to have

• Repeatedly postponing the same small task, even though it’s creating background stress

• Saying “I’m just resting” — when it actually feels more like hiding

• Feeling emotionally heavy, lethargic, or stuck in shame

This kind of non-doing doesn’t leave you feeling nourished — it often leaves you more depleted. It’s usually a symptom of something unresolved or feared beneath the surface — whether that’s failure, disappointment, overwhelm, or vulnerability.

So, How Do You Tell the Difference?

Ask yourself:

1. Do I feel more clear, grounded, or resourced after this pause — or more anxious and foggy?

2. Is this stillness something I chose, or something I fell into out of fear or resistance?

3. Does this break bring me closer to myself — or is it numbing me from something I don’t want to feel?

4. Am I avoiding a boundary, a task, or a truth that I know needs my attention?

The quality of presence is often the clue. If you feel connected and settled, you’re likely practicing compassionate non-doing. If you feel disembodied or vaguely ashamed, procrastination may be wearing the mask of self-care.

A Middle Way: Self-Honesty with Kindness

The truth is, we all procrastinate sometimes. We all avoid, disconnect, or resist. That doesn’t mean we’re lazy or broken — it means we’re human. The invitation is not to judge yourself, but to be curious.

What might you be protecting yourself from? What fear lives beneath the pause?

Sometimes we need to act despite fear. Other times, we need to pause because we’re too overwhelmed. Self-awareness helps us tell the difference. Self-compassion helps us respond wisely either way.

Closing Thoughts

Not all stillness is healing — and not all resistance is bad. The real work is to become intimate with your own nervous system, your patterns, and your intentions. Whether you're lying in a hammock or staring at a blinking cursor, the deeper question is always the same:

What is this non-doing in service of?

When we begin listening, we can learn to rest without avoiding and act without abandoning ourselves.

Understanding the Spectrum of Trauma: Shock Trauma vs. Complex Trauma

When most people think of trauma, they imagine a single overwhelming event — something big, dramatic, and life-altering. This is often what’s known as shock trauma, sometimes referred to as Big “T” trauma. But trauma isn’t always loud or obvious. Some trauma accumulates slowly, quietly, over time. This is known as complex trauma or cumulative trauma, and although it might not look the same from the outside, it can be just as impactful.

Understanding the differences and similarities between these types of trauma is essential — not just for healing, but for validating experiences that often go unseen or unspoken.

What Is Shock Trauma?

Shock trauma happens when a person is exposed to a single, intense event that overwhelms their capacity to cope. This could include things like:

• A serious accident

• Physical or sexual assault

• A natural disaster

• A medical emergency

• The sudden death of a loved one

• Witnessing violence

These events often feel like a clear “before and after” moment. People who experience shock trauma may develop symptoms of PTSD such as flashbacks, hypervigilance, avoidance, and emotional numbing. Because these events are recognizable and widely understood, shock trauma tends to be easier to name and explain. Others may more readily offer empathy, validation, or even clinical support.

What Is Complex or Cumulative Trauma?

Complex trauma, by contrast, isn’t about a single incident. It’s about repeated exposure to harmful, unsafe, or neglectful experiences — often starting in childhood. Examples include:

• Ongoing emotional neglect or verbal abuse

• Growing up in a household with addiction, violence, or mental illness

• Living with chronic instability or poverty

• Being repeatedly bullied, excluded, or demeaned

• Experiencing betrayal or abandonment over and over again

Rather than one event, complex trauma unfolds as a pattern. And because these patterns often form early in life or within close relationships, they can shape how a person sees themselves and others — creating lasting difficulties with trust, self-worth, and emotional regulation.

Unlike shock trauma, complex trauma can be harder to put into words. There may be no single moment to point to, just a lifelong feeling that something was never quite right.

How Are They Similar?

Both types of trauma can deeply affect the nervous system, emotions, and relationships. Whether the trauma is sudden or cumulative, it can lead to symptoms such as anxiety, depression, emotional numbing, hypervigilance, and difficulty connecting with others. Both types can also manifest physically — as chronic pain, fatigue, digestive issues, or immune challenges.

Why Complex Trauma Is Harder to Talk About

One of the key differences lies in how trauma is perceived — both by the person who lived it and by those around them. Shock trauma is often seen as more legitimate because there’s a clear, external event. Complex trauma, however, is often minimized or misunderstood. It might be brushed off as “just a tough childhood” or “not that bad,” leaving people to doubt their own pain or wonder if they’re overreacting.

This invalidation can create a kind of emotional invisibility, making it harder for people to seek help, trust others, or even believe their experience is “real enough” to need healing.

What This Means for Healing

Recognizing the form of trauma you’ve experienced is crucial in the healing process. Shock trauma often involves integrating and processing a specific event, and restoring a sense of safety and control. Complex trauma, on the other hand, usually requires a longer, deeper healing journey — one that focuses on building self-compassion, understanding relational wounds, and slowly reshaping core beliefs about self and others.

Therapies that support nervous system regulation, such as somatic work, parts work (like Internal Family Systems), and trauma-informed relational therapy can be especially helpful for complex trauma.

Final Thoughts

Whether your trauma came all at once or over many years, whether you can name it or not, your experience matters. You don’t need to justify your pain by comparing it to others. Healing isn’t about proving that something was traumatic — it’s about learning to listen to what your body and heart already know, and giving that truth the care and attention it deserves.

You are not alone, and your story is worth honouring — every part of it.

Understanding the Drama Triangle — And How to Step Out of It

Relationships can bring us joy, connection, and growth. But sometimes they also leave us feeling stuck, frustrated, or caught in repeating patterns of conflict. If you’ve ever found yourself in the same arguments, feeling helpless, resentful, or overly responsible for others, you may have been caught in what psychologist Stephen Karpman (1968) called the Drama Triangle.

The good news is: you don’t have to stay there. Here’s what the Drama Triangle is, how it shows up in relationships, and how you can step out of it into what’s called the Winner’s Triangle.

What is the Drama Triangle?

The Drama Triangle describes three roles people often take (and move between) during conflicts or stressful situations:

Victim – feels powerless, overwhelmed, and stuck.
Persecutor – criticizes, blames, or controls others.
Rescuer – jumps in to fix problems for others, often without being asked.

These roles are not about what’s actually happening, but about the emotional stance we take when we’re stuck in dysfunctional patterns.

The Three Roles

Victim
In this role, you feel unable to cope or change your situation. Thoughts might sound like:

• “Why does this always happen to me?”

• “I can’t handle this.”

• “Someone needs to help me.”

This role gives away power and often looks to a Rescuer or feels attacked by a Persecutor.

Rescuer
Here you feel overly responsible for others and try to fix their problems — sometimes at the expense of your own needs. You might think:

• “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

• “You need me to solve this for you.”

This can seem helpful, but it keeps the other person stuck in the Victim role and creates imbalance.

Persecutor
This role involves blaming, criticizing, or controlling others, sometimes with anger or superiority. It may sound like:

• “This is all your fault.”

• “Why can’t you just do it right?”

This keeps others feeling powerless and maintains conflict.

Moving Around the Triangle

We don’t usually stay in just one role. People often shift between roles — sometimes very quickly.

• A Rescuer may become resentful and turn into a Persecutor.

• A Victim might lash out and become a Persecutor.

• A Persecutor might feel guilty and slide into Rescuer mode.

These shifts keep everyone stuck and prevent healthy, authentic connection.

How to Step Out: The Winner’s Triangle

In 1990, Acey Choy proposed a healthier alternative called the Winner’s Triangle, where each role is transformed into a more empowered and compassionate stance:

Victim → Vulnerable & Responsible
Instead of feeling powerless, acknowledge your feelings and take responsibility for what you can control. You might ask:

• “What can I do to help myself?”

• “Who can I ask for support in a healthy way?”

Rescuer → Caring & Supportive
Instead of taking over, you can offer support while respecting the other person’s ability to solve their own problems. You might say:

• “I’m here if you need me.”

• “What do you think would help?”

Persecutor → Assertive & Clear
Instead of blaming or attacking, express your needs and boundaries calmly and directly.

• “This doesn’t work for me — here’s what I need.”

• “Let’s find a solution that works for both of us.”

Why This Matters

Stepping out of the Drama Triangle and into the Winner’s Triangle helps you:

• Build healthier, more balanced relationships

• Respect both your own needs and the needs of others

• Break cycles of conflict, guilt, and resentment

• Feel more empowered and authentic

Tips for Practicing

• Notice which role you tend to fall into in certain relationships.

• Pause before reacting and ask yourself what you’re feeling and what you need.

• Practice responding from the Winner’s Triangle: vulnerability, care, and assertiveness.

• Remember that change takes time — be patient and kind to yourself as you learn.

By becoming aware of the Drama Triangle and choosing new ways to relate, you can create relationships based on mutual respect, honesty, and empowerment — for yourself and for others.

You don’t have to stay stuck in the same old patterns. Step out of the triangle, and into something healthier.

The Grief of Outgrowing Dysfunctional Relationships

Growth is often celebrated. We talk about healing, evolving, and stepping into our true selves as though it’s all light and liberation. But what we don’t talk about enough is the quiet, aching grief that comes with outgrowing the relationships we once clung to — especially the dysfunctional ones.

When you begin to heal and change, your dynamics with others often change too. And sometimes, this means leaving behind people you once loved deeply, but who can no longer meet you where you are.

Why It Hurts to Outgrow Dysfunction

Even when a relationship is unhealthy — filled with conflict, codependency, neglect, or manipulation — it can feel like home. If you grew up in chaos or inconsistency, you may have learned to find comfort in those same patterns. Dysfunctional relationships can feel familiar, and familiar often feels safe, even when it’s painful.

So when you begin to heal and choose healthier ways of relating, you may find yourself feeling alienated from the people and situations you once tolerated.
You might start noticing how much emotional labor you’ve been doing.
You might set boundaries — and find they’re not respected.
You might stop chasing approval, and realize how conditional the connection always was.

This awareness can be freeing. But it can also feel like a loss.

The Layers of Grief

Outgrowing a dysfunctional relationship isn’t just about missing the person — it’s also about grieving the version of yourself who needed that relationship, or believed that’s all you deserved.

You might grieve:

• The good moments, however rare, that kept you hanging on.

• The shared history, traditions, or dreams that no longer feel possible.

• The illusion of who you thought they were — or who you thought you could be to them.

• The time and energy you invested before realizing it couldn’t work.

It’s normal to feel sadness, anger, and even guilt when you begin to step away — even when you know it’s the right thing to do.

Giving Yourself Permission to Let Go

Here are some thoughts to hold close if you find yourself grieving a relationship you’ve outgrown:

It’s okay to want more. Wanting respect, reciprocity, and kindness doesn’t make you selfish or ungrateful.

Growth can be lonely at first. When you stop playing old roles, some people will leave — but that creates space for healthier connections to emerge.

You’re allowed to love someone and still choose yourself. Caring about someone doesn’t obligate you to stay in harm’s way or keep shrinking yourself to fit their comfort zone.

Grief and gratitude can coexist. You can honor what that relationship gave you, while also acknowledging it’s no longer right for you.

Moving Forward

Healing doesn’t mean you stop caring. It means you care enough about yourself to step into relationships that feel safe, nourishing, and mutual.

If you’re grieving the loss of a dysfunctional relationship, know that this grief is not a sign of failure — it’s a sign of growth. You are learning to honor your needs, your peace, and your worth.

With time, the ache will soften, and you’ll discover relationships — with others and with yourself — that don’t require you to abandon who you are just to keep them alive.

You deserve that.

Learning to Receive: Why Intimacy Feels Unsafe for Some

 For many people, intimacy — emotional closeness, affection, and the simple act of being seen — feels comforting and natural. But for others, these same experiences can feel threatening, even unbearable. If you find yourself pulling away when someone gets too close, deflecting compliments, or feeling uncomfortable when others care for you, you’re not alone.

Let’s explore why intimacy can feel unsafe, and how you can begin to open to it — at your own pace.

Why Does Intimacy Feel So Hard?

At its heart, intimacy is about allowing yourself to be known — flaws, needs, and all. For those with histories of relational trauma, neglect, or chronic criticism, being known may have felt dangerous at one time.

Here are some common reasons why intimacy feels unsafe:

• Past betrayal or hurt — If trust was broken repeatedly in childhood or early relationships, you may unconsciously expect closeness to lead to pain or abandonment.

• Shame and self-protection — When you believe you are “too much” or “not enough,” letting someone see your true self can feel risky. Avoiding intimacy can feel like avoiding rejection.

• Loss of control — Receiving love, care, or even attention puts you in a vulnerable position where you are not in control of what others do or feel. This lack of control can trigger fear.

• Hyper-independence — Some people cope with early trauma by learning to rely only on themselves. Accepting care from others may feel like weakness, or like giving up the safety of self-sufficiency.

What Does “Receiving” Really Mean?

Receiving intimacy isn’t just about accepting big declarations of love or dramatic gestures. It’s also about small moments — someone holding the door for you, offering a compliment, or sitting with you in silence. It’s allowing yourself to take in the kindness, connection, and care that is offered without deflecting, minimizing, or pushing it away.

How to Begin Opening to Intimacy

If receiving feels foreign or unsafe to you, know that this is not something you “fix” overnight. It’s a practice — a gentle and gradual re-learning.

Here are some steps you can take:

Notice when you deflect — Pay attention to how you respond to compliments, help, or affection. Do you downplay it? Change the subject? Push it away?

Allow little moments — Let yourself linger in small experiences of connection — even just a warm smile from a stranger — and notice how it feels in your body.

Explore the fear — Journaling or talking with a therapist about what you fear will happen if you let others get close can help you understand your reactions.

Communicate — Let trusted people know that intimacy is hard for you. This can reduce the pressure and help them support you in ways that feel safe.

Practice self-compassion — Be kind to yourself when you struggle. Your nervous system is doing its best to keep you safe, even if its methods are outdated.

You Don’t Have to Do It Alone

Learning to receive — love, care, kindness — is a profound act of healing. If intimacy has felt unsafe for you, that’s not because you are broken or unworthy, but because you learned to survive in a way that made sense at the time.

You can move at your own pace. You can learn to trust — both yourself and others. And you deserve to feel the warmth of real connection.

If this resonates with you, consider working with a therapist who can help you explore and gently expand your capacity for intimacy and connection. You don’t have to figure it all out alone — and that’s exactly the point.

Attachment Trauma and the Fear of Being Too Much

Have you ever held back your feelings because you were afraid of overwhelming someone?
Or felt like you needed to shrink yourself to keep someone close?
Do you worry that if people really knew you — all of you — they would leave?

This fear of being “too much” is a common legacy of attachment trauma, and it quietly shapes the way many of us show up in relationships.

Let’s explore where this fear comes from, how it affects us, and how we can begin to heal.

What Is Attachment Trauma?

Attachment trauma happens when our early relationships — usually with caregivers — fail to give us the safety, acceptance, and attunement we need as children.

If you grew up in an environment where:

• Your emotions were dismissed, mocked, or punished,

• You were told you were “dramatic” or “needy,”

• Love and approval seemed to depend on being “good” or easy to deal with,

… then you may have learned to believe that your feelings and needs are a burden.

Why We Fear Being “Too Much”

When we experience rejection or withdrawal in response to our authentic self, we internalize a painful message:
"My feelings are too big, my needs are too much, and if I show them, I’ll be abandoned."

So we adapt.
We silence ourselves, minimize our needs, or focus on pleasing others — all in an attempt to stay connected and avoid rejection.

This is a survival strategy, and it’s deeply human. But over time, it can leave us feeling lonely, resentful, and disconnected — even in close relationships.

How This Shows Up in Adults

The fear of being too much can look like:

• Saying “I’m fine” when you’re not.

• Apologizing for having feelings.

• Avoiding conflict at all costs.

• Feeling guilty for needing reassurance or affection.

• Staying quiet when you’re hurt, to avoid “making a scene.”

• Choosing partners or friends who reinforce the idea that you have to earn their love.

Deep down, you may feel that you have to keep parts of yourself hidden — or else risk being abandoned.

Healing the Fear of Being Too Much

The truth is: you were never too much. You were simply made to feel that way by people who couldn’t meet you where you were.

Here are some steps toward healing:

1. Acknowledge Where It Started

Recognize that this fear was learned — not innate. It was a response to relationships where your needs weren’t welcomed.

2. Reconnect With Your Needs

Begin noticing and naming what you feel and what you need, even if just to yourself at first.

3. Seek Safe Relationships

Look for people — friends, partners, therapists — who respond to your feelings with care rather than criticism.

4. Challenge the Story

When you feel like you’re “too much,” remind yourself: your feelings are valid, your needs are human, and your presence is not a burden.

5. Practice Expressing Yourself

Start small. Share a feeling or a need with someone you trust and notice how it feels to be received.

You Are Not Too Much

Healing attachment trauma is about learning — slowly, gently — that you deserve to take up space in your relationships.

Your emotions are not excessive.
Your needs are not a flaw.
You are not too much — you are enough, exactly as you are.

Why You Keep Falling for the Same Type: Trauma Repetition in Love

Have you ever wondered why you keep dating the same kind of person — even when you know they’re not good for you?
Maybe they’re emotionally unavailable, controlling, distant, or even outright hurtful — yet, somehow, you find yourself drawn to them over and over again.

This pattern isn’t just bad luck. Often, it’s rooted in something called trauma repetition, a subconscious pull to recreate familiar dynamics from your past — in hopes of finally getting it “right.”

Let’s explore what trauma repetition is, how it shows up in love, and what you can do to break the cycle.

What Is Trauma Repetition?

Psychologists call it “repetition compulsion.”
When we experience pain, neglect, or rejection — especially in childhood — we don’t just forget it and move on. Our nervous system, attachment patterns, and even our sense of self are shaped by those early experiences.

As adults, we unconsciously seek out relationships that feel familiar, even if they’re unhealthy. Why?
Because our minds and bodies are trying — in a misguided but deeply human way — to resolve the old wound.

It’s like your psyche says:
"This time, if I can make them love me, then it will prove I’m lovable."
Or: "If I can endure this again, maybe I’ll finally feel in control."

How It Shows Up in Love

Trauma repetition can look like:

• Choosing emotionally unavailable partners when you grew up feeling unseen.

• Falling for controlling or critical partners if you experienced harsh parenting.

• Staying in relationships where you feel abandoned, because you’re used to chasing love.

• Feeling bored or “turned off” by healthy, stable partners because they feel unfamiliar or “too easy.”

You’re not consciously choosing pain — but your nervous system is seeking what it already knows.

Why It Feels So Compelling

Familiarity feels safe, even when it hurts.
Your brain associates the chaos, withdrawal, or criticism with love — because that’s how you first learned what love looks like.

On top of that, trauma repetition holds a hidden hope:
“If I can win this person over, it will heal the old hurt.”

But the problem is: these dynamics rarely change. Instead, you end up re-wounding yourself and reinforcing the same painful beliefs about your worth and lovability.

Breaking the Cycle

Awareness is the first step — and a huge one.
Once you recognize the pattern, you can start to make different choices.

Here are some steps to begin:

1. Reflect on the Familiar

Ask yourself:
Who does this partner remind me of?
What feeling do they bring out in me — and when did I first feel it?

2. Challenge the Story

Notice if you equate intensity, drama, or inconsistency with love. Healthy love often feels calm, stable, and even “boring” at first — because it’s unfamiliar.

3. Build a New Template

Therapy, support groups, and self-awareness can help you create a new definition of love — one rooted in mutual respect, safety, and care.

4. Pause Before You Pursue

When you feel drawn to someone, ask yourself if you’re attracted to who they truly are — or to the old dynamic they represent.

A Final Word

You don’t keep falling for the same type because you’re broken or foolish — you’re human, and you’re longing to heal.

It takes courage to break free of trauma repetition and choose something different. But it’s possible. With compassion for yourself and a willingness to face the old wounds, you can learn to recognize — and receive — the kind of love you truly deserve.