Maybe we got it all wrong
Maybe we got it all wrong?
I have undertaken a deep commitment to represent what I feel and believe to be revealed as relatively and understandably true and this is shared from the lens of both a professional in a therapy setting and an apprentice of life. The push to constantly sell, consume, and seek more has been curated by a consumerist mindset and system. Yet the moments that continue to call me are often much simpler and being on the land, feeling into the sounds, textures and smells of new landscapes, and returning to the body through genuine presence.
At the same time, I notice the continued pressure within wellness spaces to move toward the next workshop, class, release, ice bath, or breathwork session, as though these experiences will replace deeper needs, fill emptiness, or fix what is not working. This becomes extremely dangerous when spaces like these neglect a person’s unique lived experience, their capacity to respond to high quantities of arousal and somatic stimulation, and the many layered experiences already living within the body and nervous system.
I do not want to stand on the opposite side of the fence. I am still very much for these practices. What concerns me is the lack of education around sexuality, cyclic nature, trauma, nervous system capacity, physiological changes, boundaries, and consent. Working with many bodies and nervous systems has provided insight into the importance of individual pacing and responsive care within social environments.
The social nervous system is deeply driven toward safety, belonging, and acceptance within a group. If something is happening too fast or becomes too overwhelming, an individual who is overloaded or flooded will often be unable to act in alignment with what is actually best for them in that moment. In these situations, trauma and boundary violations, whether toward oneself or through another, can unknowingly be perpetuated.
So maybe we got it wrong?
Maybe it is not the practices themselves that are damaging, but the motivation behind them and the idea that we must constantly optimise, transcend, or “hack” the body in order to be whole. Perhaps healing was never meant to become another form of performance or consumption. Perhaps the deeper issue is the lack of understanding around how a human body responds independently through different cycles, and collectively when nurtured within safe, attuned environments. I see this more clearly now when I attend yoga classes. If a space is not trauma- informed, you are often guided to breathe a specific way, move a specific way, and even experience yourself in a specific way. The constant direction from a teacher can unintentionally dominate the internal experience; phrases such as “release the tension you hold in your hips,” or “we hold emotions in our jaw; it’s time to let it go so you can move forward.”
But what if we have it wrong?
What if this is the language of your body and the many parts of you expressing themselves through sensation and felt response? Maybe tension and resistance are not problems to eliminate, but forms of protection offering safety. Maybe the push to “move forward” can sometimes bypass what is genuinely happening underneath. What if the cold activates emotional anxiety around loss because grief and loss are already familiar and through the passing of a partner, the ending of work, or financial hardship? What if the body is not asking to be pushed harder, but instead asking for a pace that respects boundaries, capacity, and care? I hope this email offers a gentle reminder to pause and ask: “What is best for me with where I am at right now?”
Not because something within you needs fixing, but because your body may already be communicating exactly what it needs.Our nervous systems are fundamentally organised around detecting threat, safety, and connection. Long before we consciously think about what is happening, our bodies are already making predictions based on previous experiences. Fight, flight, freeze, collapse, appease, and connection are not choices in the moment; they are adaptive responses that have helped us survive. The challenge is that many of these responses can become organised around experiences that are no longer current. A person may find themselves living within an echo chamber of old impulses, emotions, and bodily reactions that once made perfect sense, yet no longer accurately reflect the reality of the environment they are in today. When this happens, it can be difficult to notice the state we are inhabiting because we are experiencing the world through the lens of that state. This is one reason I value therapeutic work. Therapy is not about fixing people or teaching them how to be calm all the time. Rather, it offers a relational space where nervous system patterns can be observed with curiosity and context. Over time, we can begin to recognise where we most often organise ourselves in response to life and gently develop the capacity to remain present with increasing amounts of activation, uncertainty, and emotion. In somatic and integrative work, this is often described as expanding our window of tolerance. Not by forcing ourselves beyond our limits, but through careful titration and small, manageable experiences that help build a nervous system capable of flexibility, resilience, and choice. A system that can stay online, connected, and responsive to what is actually happening in the present moment.
Perhaps the question is not “What practice should I do next?” but “What relationship am I bringing to the practice?” A yoga class, breathwork session, cold plunge, meditation, therapy session, or walk in nature can all be supportive. Yet when they become another attempt to outrun discomfort, transcend our humanity, or fix what was never broken, we may be abandoning ourselves and or risk losing contact with the very wisdom these practices were designed to cultivate.
