Have you ever connected with a feeling, only for that feeling to suddenly disappear? Maybe it brought up a sense of vulnerability, which then prompted an inclination to change the subject. Or maybe the feeling washed over you, and afterwards came emptiness and numbness. Some of us are so used to disconnecting from emotional stress that we don't even realize when our bodies are shutting it down.
Some of us have experienced spaces where sticky feelings were rejected through repeated dismissal or shut down. When this happens, we may begin to associate staying connected with others, especially those we care about, with rejecting a part of our emotional experience. Down the road, when emotions start to beckon, opening the door to see them can feel like too much. It can be an incredibly frustrating and disheartening experience.
If this sounds familiar, welcome in. What might it be like to meet those feelings differently? Let's talk about what may be going on and how that shift can begin.
Where We Learned to Brush Feelings Off
We often inherit beliefs and behaviors from implicit cues around us — watching what others do, how they respond, and what happens next. We learn what is welcomed, what is rejected, and what does and doesn't get attention or space. When feelings are met with, "hey, it's not a big deal, you're just being sensitive," or "they didn't mean it like that, come on, just let it go," or even, "ugh, this again, you just like to make a big deal out of everything," it rarely leaves room to get curious and listen in to what that experience actually felt like. Nor does it prompt a conversation about what's needed to rebuild safety, trust, and resolve around what felt hurtful or overwhelming.
Each moment of dismissal, rejection, or denial compounds. When we repeatedly experience a lack of space around our feelings, we can learn to stop bringing them up, absorb the language and belief systems of those around us, and begin to respond to ourselves in the same way: "why am I like this? it's not a big deal, just let it go."
The rules about what's safe to feel and say out loud are often inherited long before we have language for them. It doesn't always feel like a decision. It feels more like a reflex. If this feels familiar, I've written more about how this connects to self-abandonment and to emotional caretaking.
Why It Feels Like Too Much When We Finally Turn Toward It
When we start connecting with feelings we've spent years avoiding, we're not just feeling the emotion itself. We're also brushing up against protector parts that warn us not to go near something that feels dangerous. This often shows up as a flood of intensity around something that feels more raw or vulnerable. No, it's not your body overreacting. It's more likely that your body is starting to feel safe enough to feel something it hasn't allowed itself to in a long time.
Let me say that again — the intensity of our emotions doesn't mean those feelings are too big. It just means your nervous system hasn't had a chance to learn how to be with them, and to trust in your capacity to move through them. Capacity is something we build, not something we either have or don't.
The Body Learned How to Exist Around Others
Our bodies learn to navigate the world in ways that help us feel safe: from the way we walk, to the amount of space we take up with others, to how much of ourselves we choose to show. When we come up against something that feels "off-limits" according to those standards, our bodies can respond viscerally. Our shoulders may stiffen. Our breath may shallow. Our eyes may start to dart around. These are all ways our bodies prepare for perceived threat and danger.
It's also worth noting that inherited response patterns are often shaped by cultural nuances, too. Social norms vary across the communities around us. If you're curious about that thread, I touch on it in my post on intergenerational trauma.
What This Can Look Like in Somatic Work
In somatic therapy, we slow things down enough to observe these patterns. That often starts with building awareness of two kinds of experiencing: interoception, which is what happens inside the body (breath, heartbeat, tension, warmth), and exteroception, which is how we experience the space around us (the feel of the chair, sounds in the room, places to exit).
From there, we get curious about how your body orients to space and time when something feels safe or threatening. How do your eyes orient? Where do they anchor? How does your body prepare itself? How does it connect with others around you? The intention isn't to solve or fix anything. It's to notice, and to bring awareness to all the ways our bodies have learned to protect us over time.
Over time, the work tends to move through a few layers, including:
Noticing what shows up in the body when alarm bells go off
Identifying patterns of response to our own emotions, and bringing curiosity to what those responses protected
Learning how to self-soothe and regulate through increased periods of stress
Bringing care and compassion to the parts of ourselves that need tending to
None of this happens quickly, and it isn't meant to. If you want to see more about how I work, you can read my Approach page. I've also written more about the body side of this in How Trauma Lives in the Body.
Building Trust With Yourself
Underneath all of this is trust. Many of us learned, understandably, to numb out or avoid feelings because it maintained harmony in our relationships. Building trust within ourselves means slowly teaching our bodies that it's safe enough to feel now. That we can pause, meet a feeling without being overtaken by it, and no longer have to run from it or overcompensate for it.
It might look like feeling a wave of sadness and noticing your breath, without jumping in to "do" something about it. Or catching the urge to brush something off, and bringing curiosity for a moment to what may lie underneath. Small, repeated moments of staying with our feelings allow us to build a more intimate relationship with ourselves.
What might it be like to meet that feeling the way you needed to be met back then?
You Don't Have to Do This Alone
Learning to feel what we were taught to avoid is tender work, and it's often easier to build safety in the presence of someone who can hold space alongside you. As a therapist in San Diego offering online therapy across California and Washington, D.C., I'd love to support you in finding a new way of relating to what you feel.
If this resonates, reach out here to learn more about working together.
Frequently Asked Questions
Why do my feelings feel so overwhelming when I try to sit with them? If you learned early on to brush feelings off, approaching them can bring up the intensity you've been avoiding, along with the old rule that said it wasn't safe to feel. That intensity is often a sign your nervous system hasn't had much practice staying with discomfort, not a sign that something is wrong with you.
What is interoception, and why does it matter in therapy? Interoception is your sense of what's happening inside your body, like your breath, heartbeat, or tension. Building this awareness helps you notice emotions earlier and respond to them with more care.
Is avoiding my feelings a bad thing? No. Avoidance is often a learned way of staying safe and connected. Somatic therapy aims to build enough capacity and trust that you have more choices, rather than judging the strategies that protected you.
How does somatic therapy help with emotional avoidance and numbing? Somatic therapy slows things down and works with the body directly, helping you build tolerance for sensation and emotion in small, manageable steps, and develop ways to soothe and regulate along the way.
Do I have to relive painful experiences to heal? Not necessarily. Somatic work focuses on what's present in your body now and moves at a pace your system can handle.
About Me:
Hi, I’m Stephanie Shao (she/her), Licensed Clinical Social Worker (CA 127453; LICSW DC LC200003288). I am a somatic trauma therapist and specialize in intergenerational trauma, bicultural identities, relational attachment & security, and grief & loss. I enjoy integrating both mind and body in my work, alongside practices of mindfulness and self-compassion.
As a human, I identify as a second-generation Taiwanese American. I was born and raised in the D.C. Metropolitan area, and am currently based in San Diego, California. I’m passionate about collective healing and am a big believer that healing takes place in community!
If you are looking for individual counseling, please message me. I’d love to chat more about your individual needs and to explore if we’d be a good fit. I also publish a monthly newsletter, Kindred Collective, if you’d like to stay in touch about upcoming events and all things identity-related. In the meantime, don’t forget to check out some other blogs here. Stay in touch!