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You don’t need perfect memories for healing to happen. The nervous system already knows where to begin.

What if the goal ISN’T solving faster, but listening sooner, before your inner world gets plowed over?

A quiet night of ritual revealed shame, devotion, and a longing for a fuller way of living.

There’s a certain kind of experience I see over and over again in my work—the “it was just one thing, but it changed everything” kind.

I find myself, yet again, in a season of creating new rhythms.

Recreating my business. Recreating my life. Turning over the soil of a familiar routine and asking — more honestly than ever, this time — what actually wants to grow here?

As someone who has lived with years of chronic pain due to physical trauma to the body as well as a genetic tendency (talking strictly biology there—you’ll understand this comment shortly), I’m always paying attention to how to support myself and others dealing with this lifeforce draining experience.

EMDR isn’t just for big trauma. The biggest shifts often come from healing the small moments that shaped us, unleashing growth.

Most people have heard of EMDR for trauma. But what if it could also help you perform better under pressure, parent with more patience, or finally quiet that low-grade anxious hum you’ve lived with for years?

When we think of trauma processing, we often picture PTSD-level events — the kind that feel obvious and clearly “deserving” of care. EMDR (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing) is excellent at this work. It helps us move memories that got clogged up in our system toward something new: a felt sense that we made it through, that we survived, that we are still here and capable.

EMDR is having quite a moment.

Most people who’ve done any exploration of the therapy world have heard of it — and many arrive at my office already asking for it by name.

Which I love!!

But what is EMDR? How does it work? And how do you know if it’s the right tool for your healing?

Something happened to me yesterday.

I opened Nextdoor for the first time in years; my original intention simply to figure out how to unsubscribe. But then, I started reading.

Someone was defending themselves after making a hard decision that a group of people labeled cruel. She wrote that she’d cried all night. She edited the original post to ask for mercy and understanding after an evening of piling on.

I felt an urge growing.

I wanted to dig in and read every cruel remark. My gut said: defend her. At the same time a smaller part questioned—what if she was wrong? What if she was backpedaling after being called out? Reading would tell me.

I stopped myself.

There’s something strange happening over here.

People (others—and me) are used to my energy. I’m a connector of concepts and insights, and I tend to quickly weave those things into unique offerings—workshops and groups. So it’s been… weird.

Nothing from Renee.

I have a couple of people who regularly check in.

“You’re not ready yet? You don’t know where this is leading you yet?”

No.

Because this rhythm is so different for me, I could easily slip into believing it really is “nothing.”

But it isn’t.

At the beginning of the year, I told myself I was taking the first quarter to find a new rhythm. It’s going quickly.

January was dedicated to wrapping up system transfers before releasing my virtual assistant. That took more time than I anticipated. I also tried to match my husband’s schedule for his days off, which disrupted my ability to get anything extra done. I ended up feeling behind on my annual plan.