Have you ever noticed how often your body physically expresses what your mind and heart are still struggling to process?
The last couple of weeks were pretty intense for me illness-wise, but the cause wasn’t just physical, it was emotional too…
Right before Easter, I had an intense EMDR therapy session that opened up some deeply painful childhood memories. By the weekend, I was battling a severe head cold – sinus pressure, shortness of breath, a cough, laryngitis, and a non-existent voice that lingered for two weeks. 🤒
This wasn’t just any old cold. It was grief finding a physical pathway out of my body. Grief that had been stored in my body since way back then.
During my EMDR session, a particularly painful and visceral memory emerged that I hadn’t fully processed before. Terrified, I remembered how I was used as a “human shield” – by family members who physically placing me closest to the door at nighttime; making sure I took the brunt of any sexual abuse.
It was a dog-eat-dog situation, where young siblings and grown-ups were pitted against each other – all desperate to survive. This kind of competition and division is not uncommon in abusive homes, but it is damaging whenever it occurs.
During the session, as the memory unfurled, the entire left side of my body – including my face – went completely numb. Frozen.
Inside, I could feel my littlest self – maybe 3 years old – crawling up inside my brain, hiding in a fetal-ball at the back of my skull. Not daring to move. Praying they wouldn’t find her. “Stay still, stay quiet”. It was her only place left to hide. Her only place of respite and hope, however fleeting.
Back then, I learned to shut down all awareness of bodily sensations; specifically to “not feel”. So that “they” could do whatever they wanted to my body – so long as my littlest self could remain hidden and crucially – unharmed and in-tact – in that one safe corner of my mind.
Unfortunately, as sometimes happens, we reached the end of the session just as these powerful emotions were surfacing. When I expressed distress: “But what do I do with all the sad?” – my therapist acknowledged my “sad”, but explained the need to close the session.
With care, and as she’d done many times before, she said: “I’m going to close you back down now. Just go to your calm place…”
And so, I shut down. I did what I was told – just as I had as a child.
But grief that’s been waiting decades to be heard doesn’t simply disappear when therapy-time is up.
The long-squashed feelings all came rushing back with that little girl’s simple plea:
“But what do I do with all the sad?”
The stark realization that “little me” had had nowhere to turn, no safe person to protect her, no one to listen to or comfort her.
She was desperately alone. She had found an amazing and successful hiding place. Retreating inside. Squelching emotional pain. Numbing physical pain. Keeping it all inside. Until now…
In that EMDR session, she’d glimpsed a way out. The pain could no longer be squashed or silenced – and was finally finding a way out…
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t ok. All the grief. All the pain. All the helplessness. All the aloneness – it had ALL waited so patiently, so long to come tumbling out.
And yet – here was my trusted therapist trying (unbeknownst to her) to put a cork back in the bottle of my ready-to-overflow emotions.
Unsurprisingly, by the weekend, my body was speaking the truth my voice couldn’t quite yet: sinus congestion, elevated resting-heart-rate, difficulty breathing and a persistent cough. My oxygen levels dropped to 94%. Brain fog and exhaustion set in.
The grief that had tried to emerge at the end of the session found another way out. Through my body.
After a particularly rough night of coughing and struggling to breathe, I made a doctor’s appointment.
Undeterred by my lack of voice, I typed up a list of my symptoms to show the doctor. As she read through my list, she made no eye contact with me. I sat in my silent-bubble, feeling increasingly isolated and invisible.
When she swabbed my throat to test for strep (it wasn’t), the gagging sensation triggered something deeper. After she left the room, I cried. A wave of grief washed over me – not just for this moment, but for all the moments it echoed:
💔 All the times I haven’t been believed.
💔 All the times I’ve been reduced to a list of symptoms.
💔 All the times medical professionals haven’t truly “seen” me, made eye contact or looked beyond the surface.
💔 All the times I silently pleaded and prayed (back then) for a doctor to please ask the “right” question so I would finally being able to share how badly they were hurting me..
I felt so small and alone in that examination room last week. The familiar shame of feeling like a burden crept in – that I was wasting their precious time. That familiar voice whispered: “It’s not that bad – stop being a cry baby.”
How many times have I been silenced? How many times have I silenced myself? Minimized my own pain?
The doctor’s instructions were clear: “It could be another 1-3 weeks. Don’t talk – not even a whisper. That can strain your vocal cords and make it worse.”
So here I am – that little one still hiding in my brain, trying to be heard, trying to heal, trying to grieve, little by little.
My therapist’s words “I’m going to close you down” seem to have taken on symbolic meaning and manifested physically: “get back in your box” – your voice box, it seems. Silent again…
But the thing is – I don’t want to be silent anymore. Things are different now. I am different now.
Yes, I’m still working through this grief, this memory. But the little one is not all alone now. I am with her. And she is with me.
Is this just a coincidence? That after a memory surfaces of being used as a shield, of being repeatedly shamed and silenced, of hiding in the only safe place I could find (inside my own mind), my body manifests an illness that literally takes my voice away?
I don’t think so.
Our bodies hold our stories. They do “keep the score”. They remember what happened, even when our conscious minds have tried to forget. And sometimes, when we begin to touch those deep places in therapy, our physical selves respond – often in ways that carry profound symbolic meaning.
Losing my voice isn’t just losing my voice. It’s a physical manifestation of that little girl who had no voice, who couldn’t speak her truth, who hid in the only place that felt safe – deep inside herself.
Maybe you’ve experienced something similar after therapy or when processing difficult memories:
💫 Physical symptoms that appear after emotional work.
💫 Feeling like your grief is “stuck” in your body.
💫 The sensation of emotions being “trapped” with nowhere to go.
💫 Unexplained illness that follows difficult emotional revelations.
💫 Being triggered in medical settings where you feel unseen, unheard or not believed.
If so, please know you’re not alone. This is incredibly common for trauma survivors – our bodies often express what our conscious minds aren’t yet ready or able to fully process. 🌷
If you’re experiencing physical symptoms that might be connected to emotional processing, or if you’ve been feeling silenced in your healing journey, this tapping sequence might help provide some relief. Please be gentle with yourself my friend. Take it slowly, and honor whatever comes up for you. 🤗
Before beginning to Tap, take a moment to notice where you’re at right now. What’s coming up for you and how strongly on a scale of 0-10 where 0 is not strong at all and 10 is the most strong.
Take a nice, gentle breath in and let’s begin:
Setup (Side of Hand Point):
“Even though my body has been carrying all this grief and it feels like these feelings have nowhere to go, and I’ve been silenced once again, I honor my body’s wisdom and choose to allow these emotions to find a safe way to release now.”
Tapping Sequence:
🌿 Eyebrow: This grief stored in my body
🌿 Side of Eye: These feelings trapped with nowhere to go
🌿 Under Eye: My body trying to protect that little one
🌿 Under Nose: The symbolism of losing my voice
🌿 Chin: All the times I couldn’t speak my truth back then
🌿 Collarbone: This pain deserves to be heard
🌿 Under Arm: It’s not just illness or discomfort, it’s grief finding its way out
🌿 Top of Head: Thank you body for safely carrying what was too much for me to process back then
Take a deep breath and check in with your body. Place a hand where you still feel any tension or discomfort in your body.
💫 Eyebrow: I honor this little one who hid to survive
💫 Side of Eye: She did the only thing she could
💫 Under Eye: No child should ever have to experience that
💫 Under Nose: I feel invisible and unheard again
💫 Chin: Even when my voice is gone, my truth remains
💫 Collarbone: These feelings deserve space and acknowledgment
💫 Under Arm: My body is trying to help me heal in its own way
💫 Top of Head: I can release this grief at my own pace
Take another deep breath and notice any shifts in your body as you continue to tap through the points:
💗 Eyebrow: What happened back then was not my fault
💗 Side of Eye: I was just a child, deserving protection
💗 Under Eye: Even when others don’t see me, I see myself
💗 Under Nose: Even in silence, my experience is valid
💗 Chin: I give myself permission to feel and release this
💗 Collarbone: I can listen to what my body is trying to tell me
💗 Under Arm: My healing doesn’t require others to validate it
💗 Top of Head: I honor both my pain and my healing process
Now take another deep breath in and out. And check back in with your body. Does anything feel different? Has the number you measured at the start shifted at all?
Remember, numbers and measurements don’t always shift downwards. And if they do, those shifts are not always big. Any change is good! Perhaps for you, a new aspect surfaced, or you noticed a little less constriction in your belly. Whatever happened for you, is perfect.
It’s important for us to begin to sit with and validate our grief as and when it surfaces on this journey. Recognizing that certain truths can be more likely to bring our grief to the surface:
The grief, anger, and bewilderment around these truths can be enormous.
How do we make sense of adults who put children in harm’s way to save themselves? Of systems that still don’t fully see us? Or choose to turn a blind eye?
We can’t. And sometimes the most healing thing we can do is to acknowledge that it was simply wrong. Inexcusable. Not our fault.
Your body’s expression of grief – whether through tears, illness, loss of voice, or other symptoms – is a valid part of your healing journey. Your emotions deserve space, even when therapy-time runs out, even when medical professionals don’t fully see you.
And so my invitation to you today my friend, is to gently ask yourself what it is you need today to feel seen and heard in your own, unique healing journey?
I see you. I honor your journey. And I’m walking this path right alongside you. 💛
P.S. Have you experienced physical symptoms after emotional processing work? Or found yourself triggered in medical settings? I’d love to hear how you’ve navigated these aspects of healing. Leave a comment below – I read every one – and your story truly matters to me. 🥰
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This is a stunningly beautiful and precious gift. Although my own experiences were a little different, I found your courage, compassion, and helping hand to be comforting, cleansing and empowering. Thank you for your immense courage and loving kindness in sharing this with us.
Awww, thank you for your kind words Paloma. I’m so glad you found this comforting and helpful. Much love to you, Karen 🌸
Sending you lots of hugs and healing vibes Karen! I definitely have experienced similar pain in the medical settings and still struggle with being seen. What helped me in the past was when I unexpectedly found employment working as an advocate for abused children. Seeing them go through a version of what I myself had gone through made me fiercely protective of them and I became the “safe” person for several of them. Seeing their growth made me connect with my own inner child and that helped me release a lot of pain, especially as some of my clients suffered even worse abuse than I got. Later on, I spent several years as a sexual assault advocate which involved being present in the emergency room when people came in for the rape kit. I think the reason I was able to do both these jobs was because of my own trauma from childhood, but it helped me process a lot of memories I had suppressed and I didn’t feel so alone. I don’t know why it’s easier to speak up for others than for myself. I know this sounds weird, but when I spoke up for others I some how felt like I was also speaking up for my inner child and it somehow released some of the suppressed emotions in my body. I’m still working on the rest of it.
That all makes so much sense Mary. Thank you for sharing your experience with this and also for sharing your grace, your compassion and your advocacy with the people you reached in both of those jobs. I feel something similar to what you describe when I get to advocate for my children. Healing comes to us in so many ways doesn’t it?! Sending you love today Mary – I’m so glad that you’re here. 🥰
Hello Karen,
a warm hug and thank you for your blog posts! I’ve read a couple of them lately, and since you are both conscious, reflective, openhearted and have learned about the mechanisms regarding sexual abuse or abuse, I find your words helpful; both comforting and strengthening!
I am in my 60+ now, but I began remembering the sexual abuse I experienced in my childhood when I was almost 30.(Several times in the age of 2-3; and repeatedly and so much much worse, when I was ca 10-12). It was buried in deep oblivion until then.
So – I have a lot of experience of physical symptoms from this trauma, both before, under and after treatment/emotional processing.
30 years ago there wasn’t even any tapping available, no special kind of treatment for releasing trapped memories or emotions from your mindbody.
I developed my own techniques by letting myself be led by the body, and wherever there was a symptom I tried to make myself available for memories, emotions etc when focusing on that exact symptom. If I had pain, I could massage that spot to help it out. I tried to let myself just be there for whatever happened – completely without presumptions, with a blanc mind. To welcome and let out all of me. Of course it was horrible at times and very lonely.
I also used a lot of brisk walks just to clean my energies and to switch the mental state. Trying not to get stuck in either end of the scale.
Then I met a good therapist who was my company in this work for some years. I also met a naprapath, who I could work with – for a while –
through letting my memories and emotions flow when the body was released from tensions. But he couldn’t stand this in the end – it was simply too weird at the time!
Nowadays, thank God, there’s more techniques to work with, and there’s a lot more common knowledge.
I recognise the things you write about. Yes, I definitely agree with you: it’s quite awful to be in the end of the session when you enter that deep ocean of never ending sorrow… I remember periods of my life when it felt like being close to drown, almost every day. And going around with that clump in my throat, with the crying and the tears so close all the time, so I hurried home as fast as I could after work, just to be alone and let it out. Sessions with my therapist when I couldn’t do else than cry….
And I too asked – what am I going to do with all this grief??
My therapist tried his best to arrange the situation for my needs so he didn’t have to kick me out of the room exactly when the session was over, I remember, if I was in a fragile moment. And some period I knew I could give him a call whenever I needed. I don’t remember I ever did, but just the thought gave me strength.
And I am a musician, an artist – so I could use some of it creatively, if not all, of course.
But yes, it gets easier with time, if you let the sorrow be with you. Then create space so you can breathe and see the light, then back again. I tried to cooperate with it. And then it fades, it does.
And yes, I have a lot of experiences of what I believe you speak about – symptoms after your trauma has been triggered. This, according to my experience, can be tricky at times, because it’s not always clear exactly what situation triggered the trauma. But you end up with symptoms that you must try to understand – going through what you did and who you met and what interactions you had…
I wrote to The Tapping Solution once and asked for tappings around this special matter, but it’s yet to come. So I’m grateful for you sharing your tapping in text! When the trauma gets triggered, as it still happens for me at times,it can be really hard to find the words by yourself.
I really admire your courage to blog and share your experiences with such insight. As I said, it’s very helpful!
There’s not a lot of people out there sharing HOW THEY COPE AND GROW from experiences of sexual abuse, so I’m grateful for what you write, and I will continue reading your words about how you walk your path!
Love, Gabriella
Hi Gabriella,
Thank you so much for sharing your experiences. Wow – how incredible that you were able to create techniques that helped you at a time when there wasn’t so much available. I’m so sorry for all that you went through – and I admire and honor how much you have worked through this even when it felt like you might drown in the grief. Your therapist sounds like he was excellent and very attuned to your needs. I thank you for your kind words and for being here in this community as a beacon of hope and an example for others that healing is possible and that there is hope. Sending you so much love today, Karen 🌸