02/23/2026
“Bring more of your body into the room.”
My good friend and wise teacher, Devorah Bry said this during a recent trauma-informed facilitation training.
“We want more of you here. Shake it up a little bit. Let yourself play!”
That landed.
I stand with anyone who has struggled with an invisible illness — physical, mental, or emotional.
As a woman who has lived with chronic illness and complex trauma, it’s been easy to hide. To override. To pretend everything is fine. To look like I have it all together — especially as a soon-to-be therapist. And especially in a world that grossly ignores women's health issues.
When sensations in the body feel overwhelming — from chronic pain, from trauma, from survival responses wired into the nervous system — it’s natural not to want to feel. Dissociation makes sense. Flight makes sense. Numbing makes sense.
When the body hasn’t felt safe, why would we want to inhabit it?
And yet, when we continually leave the body, those old loops can get reinforced.
The body becomes more foreign. More threatening. More shame-filled. This is how chronic illness and/or trauma becomes more entrenched over time.
There is often a subtle, pervasive shame that surrounds invisible illness — especially when no one can see what you are carrying.
As a somatic practitioner and bodyworker, I’ve noticed a quiet pressure inside myself:
I must be fully healed to serve others.
I must be perfect.
I’m learning to let that go.
I’m learning that what matters is not perfection — but presence. Not getting it right — but having my heart fully online. Letting myself be honest and real. Letting all of me be here.
My experience holds a full spectrum: I know how to deeply resource myself through the body. I know how to find nourishment. And this body has also been a hard place to live.
Both are true.
Lately, I’ve been allowing the medicine of pleasure and play to guide me.
Letting joy interrupt hypervigilance.
A person can struggle with anxiety, depression, or chronic pain, and still be deeply in love with life.