I was at a party the other night where I didn’t know anyone—except the host. Sometimes I like that—being an observer, talking to people I’ll probably never see again. As I sipped my NA beer, watching my husband squirm while two very stoned guests chatted him up, I found myself in conversation with two guys, both named Brad.
As we did the usual “How do you know the host?” and “What do you do?” dance, Brad #1 told me he was the host’s dentist, and Brad #2 said he was a court reporter. Then it was my turn.
“I’m a Somatic Trauma Practitioner,” I said.
Blank stares.
So I explained: “I work with people who’ve had trauma and are now having body reactions to it—things like panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares. Sometimes people do talk therapy and their brain gets it—but their body is still freaking out.”
Still blank faces.
“Okay,” I said, shifting to my elevator pitch. “Imagine you’re home baking an apple pie. That night, there’s a home invasion. Police come, things are broken, but eventually life moves on. Maybe you even go to therapy. But a year later, you walk into a bakery, smell apple pie, and suddenly your heart races, you feel panicked, like you’re back in that night—even though you know you’re safe. That’s a somatic memory—trauma stored in the body, waiting to be processed.”
Finally, nods.
I told them, “That’s where I come in—I help people connect what their brain knows and what their body feels.”
Why this idea is so foreign to people still baffles me. We easily accept that our bodies remember how to ride a bike after 20 years—muscle memory. But when it comes to trauma, people think healing stops at talking it out. Your nervous system is like one big muscle, and boy, does it remember.
This is why books like *The Body Keeps the Score* and *Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma* are bestsellers. They explain that trauma isn’t just a “thought” problem—it’s stored in your cells, your breath, your muscles.
I also gave the Brads some examples of how this shows up:
– Feeling “off” for no clear reason (dysregulation).
– Having a panic attack when there’s no danger (body memory).
– Feeling detached from yourself, like you’re floating or not fully “there” (dissociation).
By the end of my little living-room TED Talk, I could see it on their faces—recognition. Maybe they were thinking of someone they knew, or maybe themselves. Either way, two more people left that party understanding a little more about how the brain and body handle trauma.
I don’t expect either Brad to show up in my studio, but that’s okay. It felt good knowing I planted a seed. Because even though we’re finally starting to talk more about trauma, a lot of people still don’t realize that healing needs to happen both above and below the neck.
So yeah, next time someone asks, “What do you do?”—I’ll probably launch into my speech again. Because once you get this, it changes everything about how we understand healing.
