Healing is hard, sometimes harder than the trauma itself. Not just because it takes work, but because it can be agonizing, disorienting, even debilitating.

For the past few months, I’ve been doing EMDR therapy to address traumatic experiences of sexual abuse from over a decade ago. My mind thought I was over the trauma but my body told me a different story.

Routine gynecological checks and mammograms throw me into weeks-long funks of unproductivity, tearfulness, forgetfulness, and self-loathing. My rational brain tells me these appointments are no big deal but my body says, “Are you kidding me?”

With EMDR, I’ve voluntarily signed up for something similar every two weeks. I walk into my therapist’s office knowing that for the next day or two, my nervous system is going to react. The tears will come, and the fog will roll in. My brain will feel like it’s wading through mud. I’ll forget things I normally remember without effort. I’ll want to crawl into bed and just stay there.

The paradox of healing is that it helps, but it hurts first.

When I’m in that post-session fog, I don’t try to force myself to be productive. I don’t ignore it or try to push through it. I’ve learned the hard way that my prefrontal cortex, the part of my brain that handles strategic thinking and decision-making, has gone temporarily offline.

Instead of fighting it, I ground myself.

If I can, I head straight for one of the many thrift stores near my therapist’s office. There’s something incredibly calming about moving hangers, one at a time, from left to right to check out the clothes on them. And if I do end up on a buying binge, it only costs me about $20. Win-win.

Or I might go home and cook. I’m not kidding. I recently made a video of myself sautéing onions because the act of doing it is one of the most calming things I know. The repetition of stirring. Again, the movement from one side (of the pan) to the other. The smell filling the kitchen. The sizzle. The fact that I'm in control of something simple when everything inside me feels chaotic. Another win-win. Tasty food for my family and me.

Sometimes I go for a looooong walk. In summer, I might swim lengths in my favorite local pool. Again, there’s the repetitive left-right movement. With the bonus of doing something for my health.

I’m telling you all this not because I want you to feel sorry for me, or I’m trying to push EMDR therapy or discourage you from it. I’m telling you because every single one of you knows what dysregulation feels like.

You know it because you live it. Maybe it comes from a text message that lands like a grenade in your peaceful evening. From an email that twists everything you said into something unrecognizable. From a court document or report that makes you feel like you’re the problem. From a handover where your child won’t look at you.

And when that happens, your body does the same thing mine does after an EMDR session. Your prefrontal cortex goes offline. Your nervous system floods with cortisol and adrenaline. You can’t think straight, can’t strategize, can’t remember what your lawyer told you to do.

Now, you can still use your tools. You can Gray Rock. You can Yellow Rock. You can use AI to help you draft a response. And you should, because those tools protect you from firing off something you’ll regret.

But sending a good response doesn’t mean your body is done processing what just happened. The cortisol is still there. The tension in your chest, the tightness in your shoulders, or the cramping in your stomach is still there. The racing thoughts are still there. You handled the message, but your nervous system doesn’t know that yet.

That’s the part nobody talks about. You still need to get your body through it.
You need to find your version of stirring onions.

Notice what all of my grounding activities have in common. They’re repetitive. They’re sensory. They involve movement, usually with both sides of the body or from one side to the other. And I have control over them.

I’m not saying you need to buy a huge bag of onions and saute them (but if you do, here’s an amazing chicken recipe) or go thrift shopping. I’m saying pay attention to what already calms you down, even if it doesn’t look like “self-care” on Instagram.

It might be pulling weeds in your garden. Kneading bread dough. Sorting Lego with your kids. Brushing your hair. Vacuuming. Knitting. Playing sorting games on your phone. Chopping vegetables. Walking the same route around your block for the fourth time.

It doesn’t have to be poetic. It doesn’t have to be photogenic. It just has to bring your nervous system down enough for your thinking brain to come back online.

And here’s what I want you to notice: you probably already have something like this. You just haven’t given yourself permission to call it a coping strategy. You might even feel guilty about it — like you should be doing something more “productive” with that time.

But when you ground yourself, you’re not wasting time. You’re regulating your nervous system. That IS the productive thing.

Because once your body has calmed down, everything else gets easier. The decisions get clearer. The responses get better. The parenting gets calmer. You get back to yourself.

Want to know more about what I do?

If this resonates and you want to go deeper:

👐 Grounding trauma using the 5 senses
https://blossomsd.org/coping-with-trauma-triggers-in-everyday-life-through-grounding-techniques-for-trauma/

💧 Grounding techniques that actually work for PTSD (simple, sensory tools like the ones I described)
https://www.ptsduk.org/grounding-techniques/

🧠 Polyvagal Theory explained simply — why your body reacts even when your mind “knows better”
https://www.polyvagalinstitute.org/whatispolyvagaltheory

✨ “Glimmers” — tiny moments of regulation that add up, like my thrift store finds or onion sizzles
https://www.rhythmofregulation.com/glimmers.
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These aren’t replacements for therapy — just gentle starting points. Reach out to a professional if you need support.