--Moshe Feldenkrais, The Potent Self

Many of my clients use Feldenkrais as part of an integrated approach to emotional healing. People who have experienced trauma can learn how to reduce stress, improve negative self-image, and create more awareness of bodily patterns around depression, anxiety, anger, and other things they'd like to change. Body and mind are systemically interwoven within our neural structure; they are not, and have never been, separate.

When a person has a pervasive or chronic physical difficulty that cannot be traced to a structural problem, the natural effects of aging, illness, or genetic causes, these difficulties are sometimes linked to emotional states that developed in response to traumatic events. These events may have happened within the context of intimate relationships, such as a long-term partnership or family of origin, or may have arisen as the result of accidents, crime, the effects of war or extensive medical procedures, or natural disasters.

Traumatic events can lead the person experiencing them to manifest patterns of holding and moving the body in restricted ways to protect the felt and sensed self from any "reminder" of the traumatic event or the psychological stress that resulted. If there is fear that the emotions involved (anger, sadness, helplessness, a sense of loss of identity) are too strong to safely contain, the body will often take on the function of bracing or becoming rigid in order to "contain" the emotions so that they don't "spill out". What's important to remember in these circumstances is that the pain and rigidity serve a purpose which is essentially self-protective. You wouldn't want to rip a turtle's shell off, nor would you want to suddenly dismantle all of the defenses that have kept you alive to this very day. It takes time and patience to move through this process in the best way, but believe me--it's worth it.

I am a big believer in psychotherapy--I am in school earning a degree in counseling, and have benefited greatly from therapeutic help. At the same time, I also think that it can be very difficult to "think" feeling different, because feeling is feeling--it contains far more information than the simply cognitive. As such, words alone sometimes do not go directly to the heart of our experience. If we incorporate our bodies into whatever approach we take to our healing, it amps the process up. There is more movement--both literally and figuratively.

If we don't know what we feel, this does not mean that we don't have feelings. We do. We can find those wordless feelings, learn to listen to them, and use them to bring our lives back into a sense of place and a feeling of peace--and a feeling of confidence that no matter what arises, we have resources to work with it. That is what "integration" means, at least to me.

All feelings originally arise in the body. Why is it called a "feeling"? It's because you experience physical reactions to a situation prior to having cognitive thoughts about it. You could call "feeling" the preverbal, bodily experience before a label gets slapped onto it. You feel something--then your brain thinks about it and gives it a name--angry, mad, sad, scared, happy, etc. All of this happens very quickly, of course, but that's how it works. In PTSD, your cognitive mind might not even be able to understand or cogently think about what's happening until later on. But you have a larger awareness that you can tap into, one that doesn't need to "know" in order to be innately good, innately healing, and powerful in keeping you safe.

Children and people under extreme stress may not have words to describe what they are experiencing. But they are definitely experiencing something--of that we can be certain. I've noticed time and again that trauma survivors, in particular, tend to try to "think through" feelings because our actual feelings are overwhelming or are being thought of as overwhelming--which is the same thing to the brain. It's one way of dealing with stress--one that probably saved us at a significant point in time--but it doesn't work that well long term. In order to feel more whole, we have to get into a relationship with our bodies--the same bodies that suffered the hurt. That's not easy. It takes a lot of courage. It also takes a lot of courage to choose softer, gentler, deeper ways of knowing in a culture that tends to go for extremes in things like sensation and appearance. In choosing healers to work with, I encourage you to find those who you feel possess the capacity and love for deep listening, reflection, change, and clarity.

There are times when it is clear that someone I am working with is suffering from emotional as well as physical pain, and in these situations I will recommend that a psychotherapeutic relationship be formed as part of the healing process. I know a number of excellent, caring psychotherapists, and I am happy to share their information with you.

I, for one, believe we can do better. I've done it myself; I've worked with dozens of people who have, and still more who are well on their way. We don't know how far each particular person can go, but there is no question that we can be on a road toward healing. It's easy to discourage ourselves by trying to compare who we are today with who we were before, but if that's what we are using to measure success, there's no chance of happiness for anyone. If you don't believe me, just look at all the celebrities in Hollywood!

There isn't a standard yardstick for health. We have to define it for ourselves, and it changes as we heal. We shouldn't expect to become the same people we were before things happened. That won't be the case. It won't be the case for people who haven't survived trauma, either. You can't become who you were five or 10 years ago, or five or 10 minutes ago, for that matter. You can't go back--only forward. That's just human life, and it's that way for every single person on this planet.

I've found that the trauma survivors who come to see me have enormous qualities of resilience, reflection, determination, and courage--and, often, very little information about what might help. Interestingly, the process of healing is, often, not a dramatic thing but a gentle unfolding of a new life--a life without a lot of drama. Contentment, in its genuine form, is a sweet and rather unspectacular thing, which can take some getting used to.

If trauma is in your personal picture, I feel strongly that you need to be engaged in ongoing psychotherapy with someone you like and trust while working with me. There are wonderful people I can, and will, refer you to for these services. The things you learn from me can be a powerful support for healing and for change. Things can change. It takes time and patience and a lot of love. But they can, and do.