^{20 Most Frequently Asked Questions}

This is a very common experience. There can be many reasons for it. Sometimes, it relates to the direction a threat or stressor originally came from, or which side of the brain was more involved in processing the experience. It can also be influenced by posture, repetitive movements, or how the body has adapted over time.

Whatever the cause, the key is to notice the difference—not to fix it right away. Gently shifting your attention between both sides is actually a powerful way we work with held trauma. Over time, the two sides often begin to balance: the more activated side may soften, and the side that felt numb or disconnected may start to come alive again. These asymmetries can be an opening, not a problem.

This is more common than you might think. When you’re not feeling much during a lesson, but notice a big crash or emotional spike afterward, that’s a sign to slow down even more. In this case, err on the side of caution.

Try doing just a small portion of the lesson—maybe five minutes—then pause and notice how you feel later that day or the next. You can also experiment with simply listening to the lesson without engaging physically, and see if the aftereffects are different.

Once you’ve gotten familiar with the principles, you might also try doing a few minutes of the practice without the audio, at your own pace. This can sometimes help the body feel safer and more in control, allowing sensation to come forward gradually.

The most powerful thing you can do is continue your own healing. This isn’t just symbolic—it has real impact. As you become more regulated, your nervous system offers theirs a new blueprint for safety and connection. If your kids are still young, this can shift a lot over time. Even if they’re older, your healing still matters deeply.

That said, here are a few practical things to consider:

• Start a therapy fund. It might sound like a joke, but it’s not. Many people save for college—why not therapy too? Giving your kids access to support when they’re ready can be one of the most generous things you do.

• If your children are still young, a somatic practitioner who works with kids through play (usually effective up to around age 7, though it varies) can be helpful—but only if the practitioner is skilled and the child enjoys the play.

• If they’re older, working with a somatic therapist can also help—but it has to be on their terms. The desire to engage must come from them. Your role is simply to support from the sidelines (and maybe pay for it).

Ultimately, your regulation is the ground they grow from—and healing in one generation can open the door for healing in the next.

Many people wonder if their experiences were “big enough” to be considered trauma—especially if there wasn’t a single dramatic event. But trauma isn’t defined by how things looked from the outside. It’s about how your nervous system experienced what happened.

There are obvious early traumas that often get overlooked, like circumcision, early surgeries or medical procedures, severe illness, or choking on food. These are major events for a young system, even if they’re normalised by society.

More often though, it’s the experiences that seem small or ordinary that have a lasting impact—growing up around chronically stressed parents, unresolved trauma, conflict in the home, emotional unavailability, addiction, or a lack of consistent connection. These are common, but they shape our nervous system deeply.

If you’re questioning whether your past “counts,” the real question is: what was the impact on you? That’s what matters most.

For more on this, read:
👉 9 Common Human Experiences That Can Be Traumatic (But Are Often Overlooked) and How They Relate to PCOS

Big picture: Keep going. Waking up in panic is a common sign that the nervous system is holding a backlog of unresolved fight-or-flight energy. It can absolutely shift—but it takes steady, consistent work to restore regulation. The fact that this is showing up means your system is trying to discharge what’s been stuck. It’s a sign that healing is in motion, even if it feels awful.

In the moment: You have two broad options—soothe the activation or work with it directly.

• To soothe it: Use whatever resources help you feel a little more grounded—tea, warmth, water, a weighted blanket, even a stuffed animal. If you can, get out of bed rather than trying to force yourself back to sleep. Your system will usually respond better if you gently meet the activation rather than ignoring it.

• To go with the activation: This is more advanced and only for when you feel ready. Sit up, put your feet on the floor, and let your legs move—run in place while seated or let them shake. You can also flip the panic into healthy aggression: imagine facing what your system is afraid of, and use movements or vocalisations to express protection, fight, or boundary. This helps discharge the survival energy directly, rather than suppressing it.

Both approaches are valid. Choose what your system can handle—and remember, over time this will shift as your capacity grows.

Totally normal. This comes up a lot—especially in a culture that measures progress by productivity and speed. Even when you're consciously going at your own pace, frustration can show up because you're doing deep rewiring work—not just in your nervous system, but in your relationship to time, effort, and self-worth.

The benefits of honoring your own rhythm cannot be overstated. You're learning to trust your system in a new way. That part of you that feels frustrated? Try having a gentle conversation with it. Let it know you hear it, and that the desire to "keep up" is just one more layer of what’s being healed here.

You’re not behind—you’re in process. And that’s exactly where you’re meant to be.

Yes—this is completely normal, and actually a really important part of healing. It might not feel like a good sign, but it is. Numbness is a protective state, and when it starts to lift, emotions that were buried can begin to surface. As we say: if you can feel it, you can heal it.

That said, this is exactly why we go slow and titrate the work. When done gently, your system typically won’t release more than you have the capacity to handle. The fear is real and valid—but there’s no other way out except through. You’re not doing it wrong. You’re doing it.

And the beauty is: as you open up to feeling the harder things, you also open up to feeling more of the good—joy, connection, peace, and aliveness. That’s part of the path too.

If you start feeling exhausted, spacey, disconnected, numb, or unable to concentrate—that’s one sign. On the other end of the spectrum, feeling overly agitated, tense, angry, or irritable can also be a cue.

It’s totally normal to touch into these states briefly as part of the healing process. But if they linger—lasting longer than a few minutes—it’s usually a sign your system is overloaded and needs a pause.

That’s not failure. That’s wisdom. Step away from the work, shift your focus, and do something regulating or enjoyable. Rest is part of healing, not separate from it.