Embodiment allows the nervous system to complete responses that were interrupted long ago.

Healing begins to shift when the body experiences something new: a breath that deepens instead of constricts, a boundary held without collapse or guilt, movement replacing immobilization, tears flowing instead of freezing, pleasure allowed without bracing, connection that feels safe enough to stay present. These moments cannot be understood into existence. They must be lived. The nervous system learns through experience.

Many people feel surprised when they cry watching the Olympics.

But tears in these moments often signal safety and completion rather than distress. Emotional tears can release accumulated stress hormones and support nervous system regulation. They can reflect relief, awe, admiration, and reconnection.

Lately, many people have shared a similar experience: a low hum of unease, difficulty settling, a compulsion to keep checking the news, or a strange mixture of anger, grief, and numbness. Even those who try to limit exposure feel the emotional residue of what is circulating collectively.

When stories emerge that involve power, secrecy, exploitation, or institutional failure, they can stir something deeper than opinion or analysis. They can disturb our sense of safety in the world.

People re-enact the patterns that feel most familiar to them because, for better or worse, “familiar” feels safe and people gravitate toward safety even if, from an outside perspective, the relationship is not safe. And the term “familiar” shares its origin with “family,” underscoring how early family dynamics, including sibling harm, can become the template for both what later feels recognizable or tolerable in relationships and the roles, defenses, and expectations a person brings into them.

This is why conversations about embodiment, sexuality, and trauma cannot be separated from conversations about race and power. Sexual health, consent, pleasure, and agency are not peripheral concerns. They are central to dignity and healing.

Black History Month offers a moment of collective attention. But this work cannot live in one month of the year. If we only speak about race, history, and embodied trauma in February, we risk treating them as occasional topics rather than ongoing realities.

It is easy to burn out when engaging issues like immigration enforcement. The grief and rage are real. So is the need to pace yourself.

Calling your representatives is one way to stay engaged without flooding yourself. It is bounded. It is concrete. It is relational. Someone hears your voice.

In a time when so much feels out of control, choosing to speak anyway is an act of grounded resistance.

And it matters more than you think.

At a collective level, this kind of gaslighting has predictable effects. When leaders insist that removing truth is an act of clarity, or that denying violence is an act of sanity, people become disoriented. They question their perceptions. Communities fracture. Trust erodes. This is not stability. It is psychological destabilization.

Collective trauma requires collective care. Healing begins when we witness harm honestly, tend to its impact in the body, and remain in relationship with one another rather than retreating into silence.

If you are part of the LGBTQIA+ community and this …

Decolonizing therapy means creating approaches that value multiple ways of knowing, including embodied and relational wisdom. It means recognizing that healing is not just personal but connected to culture, history, and community.

In communities affected by historical oppression or intergenerational trauma, the window of tolerance may be narrowed by chronic stress, marginalization, or the need for vigilance in unsafe environments.

While intuition and dysregulation can both feel embodied and convincing, they are not the same. Learning to tell the difference between intuition and dysregulation is essential for emotional regulation, healthy relationships, and trauma recovery.

It is the season of shorter days, longer nights, and quieter energy. Psychologically and emotionally, winter often brings us closer to our inner world. Memories surface. Grief becomes more noticeable. Fatigue can deepen. Questions we have avoided all year may gently, or not so gently, knock on the door.

This is not a problem to solve.

Joan of Arc endures because she represents a psychological dilemma many people quietly live with. What happens when your inner knowing does not match what the world will allow? What happens when listening to yourself costs you belonging, safety, or approval?

In a sense, depth work is the slow art of clearing the mind and heart, of excavating the unconscious to create fertile ground for connection. When this work is done, the moments of beauty, like hearing someone recognize the love in their life, shine all the brighter.

The holiday season does not have to be a source of stress. It can also be an opportunity to practice what we teach: presence, self-awareness, and compassion. By caring for ourselves, we not only protect our own wellbeing but also show up more fully and authentically for the people who depend on us. Taking intentional moments to pause and reflect throughout the season helps maintain balance and perspective.

Clitmas is a reminder that pleasure is not just a holiday indulgence. It is a practice. Give yourself the gift that keeps on giving: your own attention, your own joy, and your own Clitmas.

Awareness and communication are essential tools. Partners benefit from openly sharing what feels uncomfortable or challenging, seeking guidance from sex therapists, medical providers, or somatic practitioners, and examining the cultural messages that shape their sexual experiences. Consent is ongoing, and sexual connection is healthiest when pleasure, safety, and mutual desire are present.

Above all, remember that it’s okay to take things slowly. There is no timeline for grief, and no expectation for how you “should” feel during the holidays. Treat yourself with the same kindness you would offer a loved one who is mourning.

Keep in mind that just as holidays can be challenging, you can also exit the holiday season with an increased sense of emotional resilience and stronger boundaries. You can feel proud of yourself for making it through and even having a fun time with what you do choose to do with your time. The way to create that is by maintaining your self-care practice, paying attention to yourself, and acting in ways that are in integrity with your personal values and long-term goals.