As a licensed therapist, my days are filled with holding space for others. I guide clients through anxiety, trauma, grief, and more often than not, the hidden wounds left by abuse. But I’m not just a professional in this space. I’m also someone who has sat in that very chair as a survivor of domestic violence.
There was a time when the word “trauma” felt clinical to me. It was something I had studied, assessed, and treated. But after surviving an abusive relationship, trauma took on a much deeper, rawer meaning. It lived in my body, not just my mind. It showed up in flashbacks, in an exaggerated startle response, in my relationships, and in the way I tried to keep the world “safe” around me—sometimes by shrinking myself.
For a long time, talk therapy helped. It gave me a space to make sense of what happened and validated my feelings. But there were still parts of the experience that felt “stuck.” No matter how many times I revisited the memories with logic and understanding, my body reacted as if I were still there. That’s when I turned to EMDR.
What EMDR Did for Me
Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) isn’t magic, but it felt like it. It helped me access memories I had locked away so tightly I didn’t even realize they were impacting me. Through bilateral stimulation—whether through eye movements, tapping, or auditory tones—EMDR allowed my brain to reprocess the traumatic memories in a way that felt safe.
I remember the first session when something shifted. I was working on a particularly painful memory, and through the processing, I felt my body relax in a way it hadn’t in years. It was like my nervous system finally got the message: you’re safe now.
Bringing EMDR into the Therapy Room
After my own healing began to take root, I knew EMDR was something I wanted to offer my clients. When I use EMDR with survivors of domestic violence now, it’s with the deepest empathy. I know what it’s like to have those tangled emotions—shame, fear, anger, guilt—all living in one painful knot. EMDR doesn’t erase what happened, but it helps loosen that knot so you can breathe again.
Clients often come in not sure if they’re ready to revisit the past. And that’s okay. One of the most beautiful parts of EMDR is that we don’t have to talk in detail about the trauma. We can start with what’s showing up in the body, the images that linger, or the beliefs that hold us hostage—like “I’m not safe” or “It was my fault.”
We work together, slowly and gently, to transform those beliefs. I’ve watched clients shift from “I’m broken” to “I survived” to “I’m thriving.” And I don’t just witness it—I feel it. Because I’ve walked that road, too.
What Healing Looks Like
Healing is not linear. EMDR isn’t a quick fix, but it can be deeply transformative. Some days, the work is heavy. Old wounds can sting when they’re touched. But over time, those same wounds become scars—reminders of strength, not pain.
Here’s what healing has looked like for me, and what I’ve seen in the clients I work with:
- The nightmares start to fade.
- The panic attacks lessen.
- The inner critic quiets.
- Self-compassion grows.
- Boundaries become clearer and stronger.
- Relationships start to feel safer.
- Life becomes more than just survival.
To My Fellow Survivors
If you’re reading this and wondering if EMDR might help, I want you to know that it’s okay to be afraid. It’s okay to go slow. Healing doesn’t have a deadline. But you don’t have to stay stuck in the trauma forever.
There’s a version of you waiting on the other side of this work—a version that feels whole, grounded, and free. And as both a therapist and a survivor, I can say with all my heart: healing is possible. You are not alone. And you are so, so worthy of peace.
