My whole story begins with my Nonna (grandmother), who emigrated to Montreal with her family and husband. She gave birth to my mother two years prior and suffered one of the worst postpartum depression you could see. She hated being around my mother, and this is the result - a mother who has no boundaries, incredible amounts of anxiety and shame and an inability to be present. My mother's husband, my biological father, had Epilepsy, which largely remained unaddressed. I believe his Epilepsy had severely damaged his brain, which caused him to be physically and psychologically abusive to my ENTIRE family. An unavailable mother and an abusive father meant I was in the danger zone all the time. I never learned how to regulate my nervous system because they both didn't even know how to and because I was never safe, witnessed and loved for being myself. I was consciously aware of how dangerous this space was from the age of 8 (and likely somatically before). Apart from my parent's violence, I suffered through a car crash at the age of 5 (I was sitting in the front seat when my mother's husband (who had stopped his pills) had an epileptic attack and crashed into a wall), extensive and unaddressed physical and sexual abuse from relatives, intense suicidation, self-harm, zero self-confidence and bullying.<img src="https://letcheck.b-cdn.net/2813/cltpe1vhr0et57d9ng09qc9vc.jpg" alt="image" containerstyle="width: 100%; height: auto; cursor: pointer; " wrapperstyle="display: flex">I was able to leave at the age of 21, in the mid-university experience - which coincided with me accepting my queer experience. I decided to leave my family behind.University gave me life, but it also coincided with the start of the intense and debilitating anxiety, chronic pain and depression symptoms (which is a usual experience in trauma). I was never able to address the trauma from that house; thus, it stayed with me where I went. I still remember the moment I realized something was amiss with myself. It started with persistent anxiety and an occasional twinge in my lower back, which I brushed off as temporary experiences. Gradually, these experiences became more prolonged and more profound. The twinges became a persistent ache that spread to my shoulders, neck, and hips. Doctor visits, X-rays, and medication seemed to provide temporary relief. Still, the pain always returned, haunting me like a relentless ghost. <img src="https://letcheck.b-cdn.net/2813/cltpe1mj60f2ocy8za0tie17q.jpg" alt="image" containerstyle="position: relative; width: 438px; height: auto; cursor: pointer;" wrapperstyle="display: flex;">My life revolved around this pain, and my days became defined by limitations and my "bad knees." I developed a theory that "my body was doing this to me." As if my brain and my body were separate entities. I felt trapped in a cycle of discomfort, unable to perform simple tasks without wincing in agony. I felt disconnected from myself and the world around me.Somatic Movement stumbled across my email, which piqued some curiosity. Words like "awareness," "small," and "care" felt like what I needed. I decided to try it, hoping to find some respite from my chronic pain. Little did I know that this decision would change my path.*I call it Somatic Movement, but to be genuine, the method I learned under is called Feldenkrais. I have stopped using it as my own term because of the intensity of Zionism the community has.I started by doing group classes and then turned to individual lessons. Sarah, my practitioner, guided me through a series of movements, drawing my attention to the patterns of tension and habitual postures I unknowingly held. With each movement, I developed a heightened self-awareness, feeling more connected to my body than ever.As weeks turned into months, I immersed myself in the practice of Somatic Movement and even joined a training. Slowly but steadily, my chronic pain started to lessen. But what astonished me even more was the newfound understanding I gained about myself through this process. I realized that my pain was not just a physical ailment but also a manifestation of deeper emotional and psychological patterns.<img src="https://letcheck.b-cdn.net/2813/cltpe1ogy0f9uby8z5skqes7n.jpg" alt="image" containerstyle="position: relative; width: 306px; height: auto; cursor: pointer;" wrapperstyle="display: flex;">Nearing graduation from my training, I was finally approved to get my Double Mastectomy. COVID-19 had just started, and hospital surgeries were generally faster and scarier than usual. The whole experience was quick and dizzying. Three to four months after my surgery (post-graduation), a lot of symptoms I had effectively gotten rid of started reappearing (because they had never actually been adequately dealt with from a trauma perspective). <img src="https://letcheck.b-cdn.net/2813/cltpe1eaq0e5vdz8z0sxzdgzv.png" alt="image" containerstyle="position: relative; width: 301px; height: auto; cursor: pointer;" wrapperstyle="display: flex;">I suffered from Chronic General Urticaria, which no doctors could understand and help with (I was constantly covered head to toe in hives, and my mouth, ears, and fingers were swollen and in pain). I realized I was showing symptoms of PTSD. Everything from dizziness, nausea and fainting (which I now know is my system going into freeze from some gentle touch I was applying to my chest). From there, my left shoulder blade was in immense pain, and I believe I was suffering from the beginning of a Frozen Shoulder, yet no doctor (including my surgeon) would believe me. I had no actual image of where my arms were, as if they were ghosts, and lifting them felt impossible, and all the Somatic Movement I did mostly overwhelmed my system (the moment I went into complete freeze and got sent to the hospital).Neither Western medicine nor plainly somatic movement had the answers I needed, so I started looking elsewhere. And while some somatic movement did help, it wasn't addressing the trauma from my surgery. Peter Levine's Somatic Experiencing (SE) theory addresses trauma using titration to create pendulation in the system (in short, we go back and forth from challenging to pleasant to avoid short-circuiting the system into freeze/dissociation). This idea was a GAME CHANGER for me. Just a couple of sessions, and I was already sensing a difference. I joined a training to expand my practice and offer more to my clients and students. Since joining, I have applied both techniques to my client's care and have found incredible results.Through these explorations, I recognize how my stress, anxieties, and past traumas are deeply interwoven with my symptoms. This newfound awareness empowers me to confront my emotional baggage, leading me to a different experience of life.In Somatic Movement, I learned to let go of judgments and embrace self-compassion. Rather than pushing through the pain, I explore sensations of the need to rest. In Somatic Experiencing, I learned to allow feelings, sensations, movements, and thoughts to take the time to process them, allowing breaks and rests along the way. Today, I stand as a living testament to the incredible power of our SOMA. Though not entirely pain-free, I have gained a deeper understanding of my internal language. I recognize when I am holding tension and respond with compassion, guiding myself back into a state of ease and comfort.More importantly, Somatics has taught me to cherish every moment, celebrating the small victories once overshadowed by pain. As I continue this journey, I am inspired to share the gift of Somatics with others who may be grappling with chronic pain, depression, PTSD, and anxiety or seeking a path to something different.

Using somatic therapy to heal from childhood and attachment trauma, cptsd, chronic pain, to something different.

From childhood and attachment trauma, cptsd, chronic pain, to something different.

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From childhood and attachment trauma, cptsd, chronic pain, to something different.

From childhood and attachment trauma, cptsd, chronic pain, to something different.

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This is how Feldenkrais saved my life