“Where do you feel that in your body?”
It’s a common therapy question—one that can feel grounding, confusing, or oddly irritating depending on the day. For some people, it lands as an invitation. For others, it sparks a quiet worry: What if there’s something in there I’m not ready to feel?
We live in a moment where phrases like The Body Keeps the Score have entered the mainstream. These ideas are important. They helped shift the conversation away from “it’s all in your head” and toward a more holistic understanding of stress and trauma.
But they’ve also—sometimes unintentionally—fed a cultural narrative that the body is a kind of ticking time bomb. That if you slow down or tune in too closely, something overwhelming might break loose.
That’s not how I understand this work.
And it’s not how it usually unfolds.

Why I Still Find Somatic Work Useful (Even Without Perfect Science)
Somatic therapy draws from a range of theories—Somatic Experiencing, polyvagal theory, sensorimotor approaches—many of which are still evolving and actively debated. Some of the science is solid, some is speculative, and some has rightly been critiqued.
I don’t see that as a flaw.
Because the value of this work doesn’t hinge on airtight explanations—it hinges on something more grounded: the lived experience of being in relationship with your body instead of overriding it.
Whether or not we fully understand why, people reliably discover that:
- their bodies signal needs long before burnout hits
- tension and fatigue carry meaning, not just inconvenience
- emotions move differently when they’re felt rather than analyzed away
Not because the body is hiding trauma, but because the body is a core aspect of selfhood—one that modern life trains us to ignore.

The Body Is Not a Boogeyman
One of the most important things I want clients to understand is this: your body is not waiting to ambush you with pain.
It’s not a vault of horror.
It’s not a problem to solve.
And it’s not something you need to “open” all at once.
The body is more like a long-term relationship—one that’s been neglected, spoken over, or pushed aside in the name of productivity, coping, or survival.
Somatic work isn’t about dredging up the past.
It’s about learning how to listen again.
Slowly. Gently. With choice.

The Rider and the Elephant (Why the Mind Still Matters)
I often return to the metaphor of the rider and the elephant.
The rider is the mind—your intelligence, insight, values, and goals.
The elephant is the body—ancient, intuitive, shaped by ancestry and lived experience.
The rider is essential. Especially for thinkers, planners, and meaning-makers.
But the rider doesn’t actually carry the weight.
You can aim toward a castle on the horizon with incredible clarity, while the elephant senses unstable ground ahead. If the rider refuses to look down, both get stuck.
Somatic work isn’t about silencing the mind.
It’s about partnership.

What This Work Actually Feels Like in a Session
If you’re expecting fireworks or dramatic release, this may surprise you.
Most somatic sessions are quiet.
- We might notice a tightness and stay with it without needing to explain it.
- We might slow something down until it becomes almost boring.
- We might follow a subtle impulse—an urge to shift, stretch, or pause.
Sometimes it feels vague. Elusive. Like nothing is happening.
And yet, beneath awareness, your nervous system is learning something crucial:
I can stay present with myself without being overwhelmed.
That’s not nothing.
That’s capacity being built..
The Real Goal: Ongoing Relationship
The goal of somatic work isn’t permanent calm or trauma eradication.
It’s this:
- an active, ongoing relationship with your body
- the ability to sense when to act and when to rest
- a clearer signal of what’s sustainable for you
In a world shaped by chronic stress, political uncertainty, and systems that reward disconnection, dysregulation is often a reasonable response—not a personal failing.
This is especially relevant for people navigating burnout and chronic stress and for those drawn to depth-oriented therapy that works with unconscious material and meaning-making.
Somatic work helps bridge mind and body so that insight becomes embodied—not just understood.

For the Thinkers, the Analyzers, the Meaning-Makers
If you tend to intellectualize, you’re not doing therapy wrong.
Thinking is a skill. It’s how many people survived.
But without the body, thinking floats free—unmoored from sensation, need, and timing.
The body doesn’t replace insight.
It grounds it.
When these two work together, decisions become clearer, boundaries firmer, and self-trust more available.
A Different Way to Think About Healing
Healing, in this lens, isn’t something you achieve.
It’s something you tend.
Not hacking.
Not optimizing.
Not chasing catharsis.
Just learning—over time—how to live inside yourself with a bit more honesty, responsiveness, and care.
Somatic therapy isn’t only about trauma or symptoms.
It’s also about potential—about aligning with who you actually are beneath coping strategies and cultural pressure.
If the idea of being in relationship with your body feels intriguing rather than intimidating, that curiosity itself is meaningful.
And it’s usually enough to begin.
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Note: My work is influenced by training, self-study, and clinical experience with somatic approaches, including Somatic Experiencing. I am not a certified SE Practitioner.
A Gentle Note Before You Go
Everything you’ve just read is woven from my training as a therapist, my lived experience, and the conversations I have with real humans navigating real life. These reflections are meant to support your own self-understanding—but they’re not a substitute for therapy.
If something in this post resonated and you’d like personalized support, you’re welcome to reach out or explore working together through Rising Rooted.
If you’re craving more self-led exploration—mythic, creative, and a little wild—come wander over to The Wolfskin Project, where I share courses and resources for soul remembering and self-crafting.
What are your thoughts?