A gentle call-in for burnout and self-inquiry

Recently, I caught myself mid-session doing something that made me pause and laugh at the beautiful irony of our work as trauma therapists. There I was, guiding a client through a grounding breath practice with shoulders hiked up to my ears, jaw clenched tight, unconsciously holding tension in my hands.

I was teaching regulation while completely dysregulated myself.

If you've been in this field for more than a hot minute, you've probably had a similar moment. That awareness of the gap between what we know intellectually and what we're actually practicing in our lives. The space between teaching nervous system regulation and genuinely living it.

The Gap We Don't Talk About

I've noticed something in my own work and in conversations with fellow therapists. We can recite the research on co-regulation, explain polyvagal theory in our sleep, and skillfully guide clients through practices. But when it comes to our own regulation? We're often running on empty, sustained by caffeine and good intentions.

I took a long look at my own use of holistic interventions and found myself sitting with some questions (and painful revelations):

• When was the last time I actually did the breath work for my own regulation - instead of just demonstrating it with a client? 
• How often do I  find myself holding tension in my body while helping others release theirs? 
• Am I walking alongside my clients in the healing journey, or am I leading from a place of depletion?

I always tell my students and trainees: "The lack of ‘self-care’ is not the problem, it’s the lack of knowing how to Return to Yourself, and stay there long enough to deeply listen.” GUILTY AS CHARGED!

The Authenticity-Regulation Connection

I've learned something through my own struggles with practicing what I teach: authenticity IS regulation. When we show up genuinely in our work (acknowledging our humanness, our imperfections, our ongoing journey) something shifts. Not just for us, but for our clients too.

I think about the times I've shared with clients that I also struggle with meditation, that I get restless and stop mid-practice because my brain convinces me that I don’t have time or it won’t REALLY matter. My brain is so bossy! Or, better yet, I've mentioned noticing my own nervous system activated during the session, and I take a moment to return to myself, to soothe, and to understand before I proceed. These moments become the most transformative for both of us.

We don't need to be perfect practitioners to be effective therapists. In fact, our willingness to stay attuned and curious to our own experience (to notice when we're clenching our jaw during a breath practice) might be exactly what our clients need to see.

Small Shifts, Big Impact

This isn't about adding another item to your already overwhelming to-do list. It's about integrating tiny moments of presence into YOUR life.

Some practices that have made a difference in my own work:

• The 2-minute transition: Engaging in 1-2 minutes of gentle movement or stretching between sessions, especially before working with clients who may dissociate or experience distress.
• Counting for myself: Actually doing the breath work instead of just instructing it. When I guide clients through counting their inhale and exhale, I count along with them.
• Body scan check-ins: Taking a moment between clients to notice where I'm holding tension. No judgment, just awareness. If time permits, I grab my soft tissue roller and release more tension before my next client. 
• Invitational language for myself: Speaking to my own nervous system with the same gentle curiosity I bring to clients: "When it feels good and right for you, allow your awareness to focus on..." Learning to be kind to my inner self, has healed me in unmentionable ways. 

The Ripple Effect

What I've discovered is that when I practice even small moments of presence and awareness, everything shifts. My presence changes. My ability to co-regulate becomes automatic and less performative. I am actually living it.

Clients sense this. They can feel the difference between a therapist who is demonstrating a technique and one who is genuinely practicing alongside them.

A Gentle Invitation

So this is my gentle call-in to all of us who are doing the work of being a healer: What would change in your practice if you started treating your own nervous system with the same curiosity and compassion you bring to your clients? How would you move throughout the day? How would you wake up? How would you hold yourself when grief enters the s

The goal isn't perfection. It's YOU, you’re the goal, more integrated. It's the recognition that even when the cup is empty, our breath is still there, waiting to guide us back home to ourselves.

Because when we embody the practices we teach, we don't just become better therapists. We become more whole humans.

And isn't that what this work is really about?