Pause and Notice: A Gentle Invitation into Embodied Experience Beyond the Story By Payam Ghassemlou, MFT, SEP, Ph.D.

Everyone's story matters, and sometimes our personal mythology needs help emerging from the basement of repression or forgetfulness. Those of us in the helping professions often assume that every word of a client's painful story is like a step on a long staircase that must be climbed for healing to occur. Words can illuminate, organize, and bear witness to experience, but they are not the only path to transformation. There is also a sensory field beyond words—a place where memory, emotion, imagery, movement, and felt experience come together. Within that field, another kind of knowing becomes possible, and our stories can be rediscovered, reshaped, and gently integrated.

When I began my mental health counseling internship in 1990 at what was then known as The Gay and Lesbian Center in Hollywood, I had the honor of working with people whose life stories were shaped by homophobic and transphobic mistreatment, often beginning in childhood. As a young intern, I believed that interrupting a client by asking them to pause in the middle of sharing a traumatic story was neither polite nor empathic. Today, I see it differently. I now understand that inviting a pause can protect clients from becoming overwhelmed by the vortex of their trauma and from becoming retraumatized. A gentle invitation to shift from retelling the story to cultivating awareness of present-moment sensory experience beyond the narrative can offer a safer path toward healing. Rather than asking clients to climb every step of the staircase of trauma through words alone, we can also invite them into a sensory field where the body reveals its own wisdom and where healing can begin without requiring every detail to be spoken.

Years later, after studying Somatic Experiencing®, developed by Peter Levine, and participating in additional training in approaches such as the Full Embodiment (FE) Model, developed by Ariel Giarretto; Implicit Psychotherapy, developed by Abi Blakeslee; Somatic Practice, developed by Kathy L. Kain; and many others, my understanding of trauma shifted. I came to see that trauma arises from the nervous system's response to an overwhelming experience rather than from the event itself. I also learned that attending to physical sensations, rather than focusing only on the story of the trauma, is an essential part of recovery.

Over time, I realized that relying on the thinking mind as the only path to addressing the roots of trauma symptoms is often not enough. The brain structures involved in reflexes, implicit memory, and automatic survival responses are deeply connected with the body's protective responses. Trauma-informed therapy is most effective when it begins by engaging these systems through present-moment sensory awareness, allowing the nervous system to move toward regulation before inviting reflection and meaning-making.

Back then, many of us were unfamiliar with the concept of titration, the practice of processing traumatic experiences in small, manageable increments. Titration helps prevent clients from becoming overwhelmed or retraumatized by allowing them to approach only small pieces of their experience at a time while gently tracking the sensations arising in the body. This gradual process supports the nervous system in integrating difficult experiences with greater safety and resilience.

When offering trauma-healing approaches such as Somatic Experiencing®, it is important to educate clients about a bottom-up approach and the basic workings of the nervous system. This understanding can enhance and clarify the somatically focused therapeutic process.

The nervous system is constantly receiving information from both inside the body and from the environment, helping us assess whether we are safe, threatened, or in need of action. Through the autonomic nervous system, the body automatically adjusts breathing, heart rate, muscle tension, and other physiological responses that prepare us to respond to life's experiences. When we encounter a threat, the nervous system can activate protective survival responses such as fight, flight, freeze, shutdown, or appeasement. These responses are designed to help us survive, but when they remain activated after a traumatic experience, they can contribute to ongoing distress, emotional reactivity, and a sense of being stuck.

A bottom-up approach to trauma begins by helping the body experience a greater sense of safety. Rather than focusing first on talking about what happened, it supports awareness and regulation of the nervous system through present-moment sensations and bodily experiences. During a traumatic experience, survival responses can become dominant, making it more difficult for reflective awareness and meaning making to occur in the moment. As the nervous system becomes more regulated, it often becomes easier to explore the experience, develop new meanings, and move toward healing.

There is a silent shift happening in the helping professions. It involves inviting our clients to pause, notice, and allow that moment of awareness to become a doorway into present-moment embodied experience. It is a shift from retelling events to noticing and experiencing what is happening within the body.

This approach is not limited to working with trauma. It can become an embodied way of living and a deeper way of connecting with life itself. Whether we are watching a sunset at the beach, tasting strawberries, or experiencing any moment of pleasure or connection, pausing and honoring the body's experience in the present moment can bring us into a greater sense of aliveness. We begin to experience life not only through thoughts and narratives but also through sensations, gestures, movement, breath, and silence.

By cultivating the capacity to pause and notice, we create more opportunities to be present with ourselves and with the world around us. Embodiment becomes not only a therapeutic practice but also a way of deepening our connection with everyday experiences.

© Payam Ghassemlou, MFT, Ph.D., SEP, is a psychotherapist, Somatic Experiencing Practitioner, writer, speaker, and artist.

www.DrPayam.com

Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist offering online therapy in California, Oregon, and Florida.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Lavender Garden of Relationships: Beyond Colonized Models of Intimacy By Payam Ghassemlou MFT, SEP, Ph.D.

 

As members of the LGBTQ+ community, we have the opportunity to cultivate relationships free from imposed religious, cultural, and social conditioning. Yet many of us continue to subscribe to colonized approaches to intimacy out of fear of judgment or a desire for acceptance.

The garden of relationships is vast and diverse, offering many ways to love, connect, and build community. Whatever style of relationship you choose to cultivate is entirely up to you but let that choice be guided by what genuinely nourishes your life rather than by a desire for approval from the dominant culture.

Many gay men living in LGBTQ+-friendly urban neighborhoods such as West Hollywood or Greenwich Village may have a network that includes platonic friends, friends with benefits, a life partner (who may or may not also be a sexual partner), work colleagues, and, in many cases, a broader community through 12-step programs, LGBTQ+-affirming churches, or other social groups. Each of these relationships serves a different purpose, and together they can form a rich and interconnected garden.

Many of them are also in committed monogamous relationships. Other relationship structures commonly found within the gay community include, but are not limited to, polyamory, asexual polyamory, monogamish relationships, and open relationships. In my conversations with people who practice polyamory, I have learned that it is rooted in abundance rather than scarcity. Polyamory allows people to love and maintain committed relationships with multiple partners, challenging the dominant cultural expectation that one person must meet all of our emotional, relational, and sexual needs. While often visible in gayborhoods, these relationship structures are not limited to those spaces and exist across many communities more broadly.

Like any garden, queer communities contain a wide range of relational experiences, including rupture and infidelity, which are present across all communities. Cheating often reflects unresolved emotional wounding or acting out, and it can profoundly injure a partner who trusted a commitment to exclusivity. Whatever relationship structure we choose, honesty remains the soil in which love is able to grow.

In my experience, gay men who cultivate a deeper, more embodied relationship with themselves tend to make healthier and more intentional choices when forming connections with others. The healthiest gardens begin with tending to the soil. Likewise, authentic intimacy grows from self-awareness, integrity, and a willingness to nurture relationships that align with one's inner truth rather than society's expectations.

In my decades of research on cisgender gay men's approaches to relationships, I have observed a persistent hierarchy in which monogamy is often regarded as superior to non-monogamy, and being in a relationship is afforded greater social status than being single. Many gay men also evaluate a relationship by its duration rather than by its quality, depth, or the well-being of the people within it.

Gay men who do not conform to the traditional model of an exclusive relationship are frequently subjected to stereotypes of hypersexuality, with their ways of relating dismissed as promiscuous or morally deficient. These judgments do not reflect inherent truths about relationships. Rather, they mirror heterosexist values inherited from a broader culture that has long sought to regulate intimacy and impose narrow standards of legitimacy on us all.

There is nothing wrong with choosing a monogamous relationship. For many people, it is deeply fulfilling and aligns with their values. However, choosing monogamy does not make one's relationship inherently more virtuous, pure, or evolved than other consensual relationship structures. Likewise, choosing non-monogamy does not make someone less capable of commitment, integrity, or love.

Some of us choose exclusivity because one intimate relationship is already plenty to nurture, and expanding beyond that feels emotionally or practically overwhelming. Others find that focusing their romantic and sexual energy on one partner allows for a deeper sense of intimacy. These are valid reasons for choosing monogamy, but they do not confer moral superiority. None of us becomes holier, more enlightened, or somehow above others simply because we choose an exclusive relationship.

Love needs a healthy container, one that is free from scarcity, fear, and the need for approval from the dominant culture. Too often, people pour love into a pressure cooker they call their love life, and eventually it explodes because they are trying to force a square peg into a round hole. When people attempt to fit themselves into a monogamous relationship out of obligation or fear that other relationship structures will be judged as less legitimate, that relationship is built on external pressure rather than authentic choice.

Anyone who chooses a monogamous relationship should do so because it genuinely aligns with who they are, not because they feel they have to conform. Like any relationship structure, monogamy is a journey that requires intention, communication, adaptability, and continuous effort. Love does not thrive simply because two people decide to be exclusive. It flourishes because they are willing to nurture the relationship over time.

Another source of judgment and shame within the gay community concerns the length of a relationship. There is a pervasive myth that the longer you have been with one person, the higher your social status. Relationships are often evaluated by their duration rather than by their quality. I know couples who have been together for decades yet are deeply unfulfilled. Nevertheless, they are admired and placed on a pedestal simply because they have maintained a long-term exclusive relationship. That admiration can make it difficult for them to honestly explore whether the relationship they are in continues to serve them. The expectation to remain together at all costs can keep people from entering the garden of relationships to discover what truly nourishes them.

As a community, we sometimes reinforce relationship models that mirror the expectations of a dominant culture shaped by colonialism, heterosexism, and heterosexual indoctrination, rather than encouraging people to choose what genuinely fits their lives. I am often congratulated for being with the same partner for almost twenty-eight years. Rarely does anyone ask about the quality of our relationship. Fortunately, our relationship is both deeply fulfilling and enduring, but the praise almost always centers on the number of years rather than on how we have grown together.

Any consensual relationship, regardless of its structure or duration, requires the continual development of communication skills, emotional maturity, and a willingness to evolve. For some people, this may also include seeking professional support. It may also involve healing unresolved relational trauma and learning to regulate the nervous system so that conflicts are not experienced through the lens of past wounds or persistent states of threat. As we become more embodied and our nervous system develops a greater capacity for safety, connection, and repair, we are better able to respond to our partners with presence rather than react from survival patterns. No one should be made to feel inferior because they choose a relationship structure that differs from cultural expectations or because a relationship, whether monogamous, non-monogamous, brief, or enduring, comes to an end.

Healthy relationships grow from self-awareness, emotional responsibility, and an embodied capacity for safety, respect, and consent in action. From this foundation, we are better able to recognize when our behavior is shaped by care and when it is shaped by unconscious or reactive patterns formed through sexism, misogyny, shame, family and peer expectations, and past trauma.

Judging one another for the way we connect serves no one. Monogamous couples are sometimes criticized as boring or overly restrictive, while non-monogamous couples are often stereotyped as incapable of commitment or intimacy. Neither assumption is fair. As a community, we benefit from respecting one another's relationship choices, provided they are grounded in honesty, mutual consent, and care rather than deception or exploitation.

At the same time, not every relationship pattern reflects authentic freedom. Many gay men engage in impulsive or self-destructive sexual behaviors rooted in unresolved trauma, loneliness, or other emotional wounds. What initially appears to be a search for pleasure can instead become a cycle of pain and compulsion. Because many gay men grew up receiving messages that their sexuality was shameful or unacceptable, conversations about sexual compulsivity require great care. The goal is not to reinforce shame or internalized homophobia, but to distinguish between healthy sexual expression and behavior that has become compulsive and harmful.

When your relationship with sex becomes driven by compulsive patterns, whether through chemsex, an endless pursuit of hookups, or other behaviors that disregard your own well-being or that of others, you are no longer acting from freedom. You are being driven by compulsion. Such loss of agency can have significant consequences, including sexually transmitted infections, substance dependence, damaged relationships, career setbacks, legal problems, and a diminished sense of self-respect.

Before entering the garden of relationships to explore the many ways of loving and connecting, it is essential to cultivate a conscious and embodied relationship with your own erotic life. This includes awareness of patterns such as love addiction, which can become harmful when left unexamined. Love addiction refers to a pattern of becoming emotionally dependent on romantic attachment or on the intensity of “falling in love” itself. In this state, a person may rely on relationships for self-worth and emotional regulation, leading to repetitive pursuit of romantic connection even when it is harmful or destabilizing. Over time, this can disrupt daily life and make it difficult to sustain grounded, reciprocal intimacy.

The garden of relationships flourishes in the fertile soil of nonjudgmental acceptance, where the many ways we form connection are honored rather than ranked. We are free to cultivate authentic relationships when our attachment patterns are no longer shaped by unhealed relational trauma or constrained by colonized approaches to intimacy, but instead grow from embodied choice, mutual respect, genuine care, and wholehearted consent. Only then can love take root in the ways that are most true to who we are.

© Payam Ghassemlou, MFT, Ph.D., SEP, is a psychotherapist (www.DrPayam.com), Somatic Experiencing Practitioner (www.SomaticAliveness.com), writer (https://drpayam.com/articles_and_book) ,and artist (https://SomaticAlivenessArt.etsy.com)

Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist online anywhere in CA, OR & FL.

Joyfully Queer: Tending to Your Vibrational Field with Intention By Payam Ghassemlou Ph.D., MFT, SEP

 

At our core, we are made of energy. In fact, everything in the universe can be understood as energy in motion. Science shows us that all matter is composed of tiny atoms that are constantly moving and vibrating, forming patterns of energy. The speed of these vibrations—often described as frequency—relates to energy levels: faster movement corresponds to higher energy, while slower movement corresponds to lower energy.

As a metaphor, we can connect these ideas to our emotional lives. Higher “vibrational frequencies” can represent feelings like joy, love, and gratitude, while lower ones may reflect fear, anxiety, anger, or fatigue. While this isn’t a literal scientific mapping, it can be a useful way to think about how our internal states shape our experiences.

So, what does this have to do with being gay? Human beings are deeply responsive to one another. The way we feel about ourselves often influences how we show up in the world. As a queer person—however you define your beautiful identity—your sense of self can be shaped by how fully you embrace and celebrate who you are. In my work supporting queer wellbeing, I’ve seen that when people cultivate self-acceptance and pride, they tend to experience more positive interactions and opportunities.

One practical explanation is behavioral: when you feel good about yourself, you’re more likely to act with openness, confidence, and authenticity. That, in turn, invites more supportive and affirming responses from others, reinforcing a positive cycle.

Because of this, it’s important to address the impact of homophobia and transphobia—especially when those messages become internalized. Many queer people have had to navigate difficult paths to self-acceptance. That journey deserves recognition. Take a moment to reflect on the courage it took to claim your true identity. In a world that can be unwelcoming or even hostile, choosing to live authentically is an act of strength.

When harmful beliefs about yourself go unchallenged, they can evolve into shame-based thinking. Shame can shape how you see yourself and how you relate to others. It can quietly influence your thoughts, your behavior, and your sense of worth. In the language of “vibration,” shame can be understood as something that clouds your energetic field—pulling you toward self-doubt, withdrawal, or disconnection.

This is why it’s important to “clean up” your vibrational field from internalized homophobia or transphobia. Cleaning up your field doesn’t mean forcing yourself to feel positive all the time. It means becoming aware of the shame you carry, questioning where it came from, and gradually releasing it. This can involve practicing self-compassion, challenging negative beliefs, connecting with affirming community, and seeking support when needed. As those layers of shame begin to lift, your internal state can shift in a meaningful way—you may feel more open, grounded, and aligned with your authentic self.

At its core, being gay is about the freedom to love. Coming out is often an act of choosing love over fear. You can nurture this sense of love intentionally. For example, take time each day to focus on something or someone you care about—a partner, a friend, or even a beloved pet. Recall a moment of connection and notice how it feels in your body. Allow that sense of warmth or ease to expand. Practices like this can help anchor you in emotional states that support your wellbeing and sense of connection.

Your internal state is also influenced by your body, particularly your nervous system. Pay attention to signs of tension or stress, and find ways to release them—through movement, rest, breathwork, or other supportive practices. Sometimes tension reflects daily stress; other times it may be connected to deeper, unresolved experiences. In those cases, working with a therapist—especially one trained in somatic approaches—can be especially helpful in learning how to regulate your nervous system.

Your thoughts, emotions, mindset, and relationships all shape your experience of life. Notice your thought patterns. Be aware of your feelings. Reflect on your perspective and the quality of your interactions with others. As a queer person, cultivating joy can be a powerful and meaningful part of your life’s purpose.

Life offers opportunities to grow, to connect, and to contribute. There is value in seeking meaning and living with intention. You have a right to feel good, and if negative thinking patterns or unresolved past experiences get in the way, you also have a right to heal.

Choosing joy as a queer person can be a powerful form of resistance. In the face of forces that attempt to diminish LGBTQ+ lives, living openly and joyfully brings something vital into the world. Your sense of pride, connection, and happiness doesn’t just affect you—it ripples outward, contributing to a more compassionate and vibrant shared experience.

© Payam Ghassemlou, MFT, Ph.D., SEP, is a psychotherapist (www.DrPayam.com), Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist

 

 

 

 

The Inner Witness: Embodied Awareness, Neuroception, and Queer Pleasure By Payam Ghassemlou Ph.D., SEP, MFT

 

For queer people, sexual desire often longs for wings—seeking to rise beyond the gravity of shame and heteronormative oppression. The queer body remembers; stories of homophobic wounding,  traces of which can be read in the patterns of the nervous system. When homoerotic desire has been bound too tightly to shame, the body may come to experience pleasure not as invitation but as danger. Desire hesitates at the edge of threat, and when pleasure is blocked, a restless urgency begins to stir—an ache for release, for a way through. From this tension, desperate pathways may emerge, including chemsex, as an attempt to slip past the sentinels of shame and reclaim a fleeting sense of freedom.

Paradoxically, chemsex can offer a fleeting escape from shame, yet its relief is often ephemeral. In the wake of use, crashes, risky encounters, or choices that betray one’s own values can stir a tide of guilt and regret. These echoes of shame do not fade quietly—they linger, feeding vulnerability, and beckoning the body and mind toward the very substances that promised temporary relief.

Addressing struggles such as sexual compulsion or chemsex calls for careful, compassionate attention so that the work of healing does not become another site of injury. Therapeutic support must be grounded in gentleness, avoiding the deepening of shame or the quiet wounds of internalized homophobia. The cultivation of the inner witness offers a path toward freedom—a steady, compassionate presence within that can illuminate and soften harmful patterns, including sexual compulsion and chemsex, and guide the movement toward wholeness. The inner witness is the light that allows us to read the book of our erotic desires and primary turn-on script with embodied awareness. It is a deep internal sense of knowing—that operates at the intersection of body, mind, and presence. It serves as a guiding capacity that supports the prioritization of safety, mutual respect, and embodied consent within sexual interactions.

The inner witness is sometimes mistaken for Freud’s concept of the superego. The superego stands as an internalized authority, formed in early childhood through the absorption of parental and societal norms, and it often speaks in rigid or punitive tones. In many lives, this voice carries heterosexist assumptions about relationships and sexuality, subtly or forcefully obstructing the acceptance of homoerotic desire. The inner witness, by contrast, does not judge or condemn. It is a quieter presence—an attentive awareness that listens rather than commands. When joined with embodied awareness, the inner witness allows one to remain gently rooted in lived, bodily experience, offering a compassionate orientation toward what truly deepens pleasure and sustains well-being.

The inner witness, as a form of embodied awareness, rests upon a nervous system in balance. When the autonomic nervous system is dysregulated, this inner guide struggles to sense the body’s truths or move gracefully through erotic moments. A regulated system, in contrast, can flow between activation and relaxation—between the rush of sympathetic arousal and the calm of parasympathetic ease—while attuning through neuroception, the body’s quiet sense of safety, danger, or life threat.

Coined by Dr. Stephen Porges, neuroception describes the subtle, instinctive way our nervous system reads the world. Trauma, however, can cloud this inner radar, making us overreact in safety or falter when danger is real. Healing restores the nervous system’s natural rhythm, transforming it from a chronic, reactive fight-or-flight state into a resilient, grounded presence—one in which the inner witness can fully inhabit the body, guiding us with clarity, safety, and attuned awareness.

In the pursuit of sexual pleasure, impulses and reckless urges often arise like untamed currents, calling for the quiet guidance of the inner witness, rooted in embodied awareness, to contain rather than act them out. David (a pseudonym), a 30-year-old cis gay man who travels frequently, carries an erotic fantasy of inviting strangers he meets on hookup apps to his hotel room—being restrained by them, used as a vessel for their desire. For David, whose past is marked by homophobic mistreatment and bullying, a nervous system clouded by impaired neuroception makes it difficult to discern true danger from illusion. When neuroception falters, the body’s innate radar for safety and threat becomes unreliable, leaving risky terrain treacherous and uncertain.

To awaken the guidance of his inner witness, David first had to reclaim his body from the lingering grip of unhealed trauma. He needed a nervous system attuned and resilient, capable of sensing safety and evaluating erotic encounters with clarity. Only then could his inner witness emerge as a steady presence—a compassionate guide that honors both pleasure and protection, leading him toward erotic experiences that are both vivid and safe.

The inner witness is more than a check against harmful behavior—it is a quiet, guiding presence within. In my work with sexually active cisgender gay men, many of whom seek to venture beyond the boundaries of conventional “vanilla” sex, cultivating this embodied awareness has proven deeply valuable. It moves as both shield and compass, helping individuals stay attuned to their limits, honor their boundaries, and remain anchored in their core values. Through the inner witness, the body and mind learn to recognize what feels aligned, safe, and authentic, illuminating a path through erotic exploration that is both pleasurable and grounded.

Finally, the inner witness has the potential to evolve as one’s healing journey moves beyond recovery from destructive behaviors and trauma, toward the discovery of the essence of who we are. The essence of being gay or queer is love. We come out to love freely. Some of us seek this love on hookup apps, but often, in the playground of these platforms, we find ourselves entering a hunting ground—a space where desire is frequently entangled with chemically facilitated encounters.

Yet there is another kind of erotic intoxication, one anchored in the heart of each other. Beneath our longing for hookups lies an empty space, waiting to be ignited with pleasure-infused love, waiting to be known for the sake of a deeper connection. Our inner witness can nurture this love by helping us feel it within our bodies, particularly in the heart space. The heart is where the flowers of love-infused pleasure bloom, and the fragrance of that pleasure fills and expands the heart.

 

© Payam Ghassemlou, MFT, Ph.D., SEP, is a psychotherapist (www.DrPayam.com), Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist

 

 

Barriers to Pleasure: A Queer Somatic Exploration of Trauma and Resilience

Barriers to Pleasure: A Queer Somatic Exploration of Trauma and Resilience

By Payam Ghassemlou MFT, SEP, Ph.D.

Click the image below to read the full article:

https://medium.com/@drpayam/barriers-to-pleasure-a-queer-somatic-exploration-of-trauma-and-resilience-efa8d4732fec

© Payam Ghassemlou, MFT, Ph.D., SEP, is a psychotherapist (www.DrPayam.com), Somatic Experiencing Practitioner (www.SomaticAliveness.com), wrier ,and artist (https://SomaticAlivenessArt.etsy.com)

Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist online anywhere in CA & Florida

When Love Melts the Icy Closet in Heated Rivalry

 

When Love Melts the Icy Closet in Heated Rivalry

By Payam Ghassemlou MFT, SEP, Ph.D.

Love-infused pleasure does not come easily to everyone, especially for queer bodies. For many LGBTQ+ individuals, the capacity to feel love is shaped—and often constrained—by life in a heteronormative, unwelcoming world, one that quietly erodes the sense of safety the nervous system craves. When threat lingers, the body leans toward protection—fight, flight, or freeze—leaving pleasure intertwined with love only at the edges: fragile, deferred, and patient. It is not absent, but held at a distance, waiting for moments of safety, recognition, and ease. Queer pleasure often emerges in stolen fragments, in sideways time, in spaces where desire need not explain or justify itself. The queer hockey romance series Heated Rivalry captures this reality both on the ice and beyond, reflecting the lives of countless queer athletes and queer people everywhere. This popular Canadian series on Crave/HBO Max tells the story of two-star hockey players, Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov, whose fierce rivalry on the ice conceals a secret, passionate love that burns for years. In the shadow of competition and public expectation, they navigate a delicate dance of desire, identity, and self-discovery. Based on Rachel Reid’s books, the series traces their journey from a stolen, hidden fling to a bond that runs deep, tender, and unyielding, as they confront their careers, their reputations, and their own hearts. With a second season on the horizon, their story continues to unfold, a testament to love that refuses to be silenced, on the ice and beyond.

The characters, Shane and Ilya, learn about themselves and each other through physical intimacy, making their bodies the primary site of emotional discovery. The series uses physical sensation, movement, and the body to communicate its narrative. Somatic disconnect appears in early sex scenes—a "brutal quality" where Shane's discovery of his sexuality contrasts with Ilya's more perfunctory, physical needs. This physical tension serves as a somatic shorthand for their lack of emotional alignment at the start of their relationship.

Pleasure infused with love thrives when it is nurtured by safety, intimacy, and the heart, rather than weighed down by homophobia. The story of queer men in Heated Rivalry offers hope to those struggling to free themselves from the burdens of homophobia, including the internalized shame of desiring homoerotic connection. The brave men, who are pressured by the dark forces of homophobia to deny their fundamental need for pleasure, love, and meaningful connection, find the courage to break through icy barriers.

Having popular TV series with positive queer representation does not mean that queerphobia or transphobia has disappeared. Queer people still face immense challenges, especially in the wake of rising authoritarianism in many countries, which seek to assault queer love. As a resilient community, we continue to embrace love, pleasure, and connection—not merely to resist homophobia, but to create space for love itself. When love is allowed to flourish in the safety of self-acceptance, the icy grip of prejudice begins to melt.

 

© Payam Ghassemlou, MFT, Ph.D., SEP, is a psychotherapist (www.DrPayam.com), Somatic Experiencing Practitioner (www.SomaticAliveness.com), writer (https://www.drpayam.com/articles_and_book) ,and artist (https://SomaticAlivenessArt.etsy.com)

Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist online anywhere in CA, OR & FL.

 

A Gay Somatic Therapist’s Take on Netflix’s Boots

 

Coming to terms with one’s gay identity has never been easy. For many of us—whether we served in the Marine Corps or performed on a chorus line—the process demanded our energy and courage, especially in the years before the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT) policy, when being openly LGBTQ+ came with even greater risks.

Netflix’s original series Boots attempts to portray the challenges faced by many gay service members before the implementation of the DADT policy. Unfortunately, many of these struggles still persist for LGBTQ+ individuals serving in the military today. In fact, we are living through a regressive period in which hard-won rights are once again being questioned and challenged.

Homophobia is a major reason why coming out can be particularly difficult for gay members of the military. It can prevent queer individuals from living authentic lives and, when internalized, can foster a deep sense of inferiority. To cope with or compensate for these feelings, many victims of homophobia push themselves toward external accomplishments and strive for exceptional success. For example, Sgt. Sullivan, portrayed by Max Parker in Boots, exemplifies such a high achiever. His drive to attain the pinnacle of “manhood” by becoming an elite Recon Marine was an attempt to silence his inner shame about being homosexual. Adopting toxic masculinity as a survival strategy was only one layer of his tragic life, which ultimately could not shield him from the consequences of institutionalized homophobia.

Based on my training and research in somatic psychotherapy and the functioning of the autonomic nervous system (ANS), I have come to understand that no amount of external achievement can erase deeply rooted feelings of inferiority—especially when experiences of shame have left lasting imprints on a person’s physiology. Chronic stress, such as that caused by homophobia, can repeatedly activate a person’s stress response. When this activation is unresolved, it can become “bound” in the body as trapped energy, manifesting as trauma symptoms. In the case of Sgt. Sullivan, the fear of being discovered for his sexual relationship with Major Wilkinson, played by Sachin Bhatt, took a significant toll on both his mind and body. The ongoing stress of living in a hostile, homophobic environment, coupled with his internal struggle around his sexual identity, kept his nervous system in a state of dysregulation and hyperarousal. His habitual rage in response to triggering situations exemplifies a nervous system stuck on “high.”

Homophobia set the stage for Sgt. Sullivan to live a tormented life, denying him the opportunity to fully engage in a loving relationship with Major Wilkinson. His need for self-protection outweighed his ability to allow himself to be loved. The safety he deserved—to embrace love with another man—was systematically denied, and that is a tragedy. For someone like Sgt. Sullivan, self-love is profoundly difficult when he cannot allow himself to receive love from another. The famous quote by RuPaul, “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else?” can be particularly challenging to apply in his case. For Sgt. Sullivan, being loved by Major Wilkinson could have provided the very foundation he needed to begin loving himself. For many in the LGBTQ+ community, allowing ourselves to be deeply loved by another person can be even more challenging than learning to love ourselves. Many of us have been rejected by those who were supposed to love and protect us. We may have mastered the practice of self-care through routines ranging from daily pilates to weekly Infrared saunas, yet when it comes to letting love in, we often keep our walls firmly up.

Another heart-wrenching story in Boots is that of Cameron Cope, a bullied gay teen played by Miles Heizer. Growing up in a world that did not honor his queer essence, Cameron endured years of abuse without adequate protection. The absence of support was made painfully clear when his narcissistic mother, Barbara, played by Vera Farmiga, admitted to her friend June, played by Joy Osmanski, that she had neglected her son when he needed protection from bullies. Each time Cameron was violently attacked at school, he felt powerless and internalized the belief that he was weak. Cameron was not weak; he was simply outnumbered. His nervous system was responding as it was designed to: when faced with a threat, it evaluates the best course of action for survival, choosing among fight, flight, freeze, or fawn responses. In Cameron’s case, his body determined that freezing or shutting down was the safest option. To label himself as weak does not accurately reflect his experience; it was instead a humiliating and deeply unjust interpretation of his body’s survival response.

Cameron joined the Marines to free himself from self-loathing and escape his unfulfilling home, defined by his mother. In one scene in Boots, Cameron’s mother tries to pressure him to leave the Marines, telling him, "This is not who you are," to which Cameron responds, "It is now." At first, viewers might interpret this as a moment of individuation, a step toward becoming his own man. However, he is merely exchanging one form of oppression for another. Joining a homophobic institution that trains him to “kill, kill, kill” will not heal the trauma he experienced growing up queer in a world that denied him the fundamental right to be treated with dignity and respect.

One way Cameron’s history of being bullied affected his nervous system is evident in a scene involving a combat exercise with his new friend Jones, played by Jack Cameron Kay. Watching Boots, we learn that as a bullied child, Cameron was often unable to fight back. As a result, a great deal of survival energy that was never expressed remained trapped in his body. For many abused queer youths who had to shut down or dissociate to cope with homophobic mistreatment, there is often a “volcano” of rage waiting to erupt. In Cameron’s case, that rage surfaces when Jones betrays him during a combat exercise by calling him the f-word. The violent scene illustrates how the sudden release of thwarted or incomplete fight-or-flight responses can result in uncontrolled displays of rage.

When it comes to healing from trauma, it's important to recognize that trauma is both a biological and physiological response to overwhelming events—not just a psychological one. As Dr. Bessel van der Kolk explains in The Body Keeps the Score, “Trauma lives in the body’s memory, not in the moment that caused it.” Similarly, Peter Levine notes, “Trauma is not what happens to us, but what we hold inside in the absence of an empathetic witness.” In my training on the impact of trauma on the nervous system, I learned that many queer individuals with a history of trauma often experience a persistent sense of threat, even in the absence of actual danger. This ongoing state of a perceived threat is a key component of anxiety. They may become stuck in a chronic fear response, which can manifest as a prolonged state of fight, flight, or freeze. Supporting the nervous system in completing the responses it couldn’t at the time of the trauma can help deactivate this stuck fear response and promote healing.

Perhaps if Cameron had access to somatic healing therapies, these dormant, incomplete responses to years of homophobic mistreatment could have been released in a gentler, titrated way. Using titration methods, he could process his trauma narrative without having to relive every detail and risk re-traumatization. By addressing small portions of his painful memories and gently revisiting bodily sensations while staying grounded in the present moment, Cameron could avoid becoming overwhelmed. By creating a safe space and using titration, he could allow his body to release stored trauma energy—through crying, shaking, trembling, or other natural responses—allowing him to renegotiate and integrate past traumatic experiences.

In addition to discharging stored trauma energy from his system, Cameron’s healing journey can involve identifying resources that helped him to get through many difficult years of dealing with a narcissistic mother and homophobic mistreatment at school. It is important to help a trauma survivor like Cameron to feel safe. I would ask Cameron questions that could guide him toward cultivating a sense of safety. I would begin by helping him identify what was—and still is—supportive in relation to being queer. By recalling and tuning into the felt sense of moments when he experienced safety growing up, he can approach trauma with more care and compassion. I would inquire from Cameron: What helped him cope with such overwhelming stress of dealing with bullies? How did he make it through? Who showed him kindness during that time? Naming what helped Cameron survive not only honors his resilience but also supports the process of gently shifting out of a stuck threat response.

A major resource in Cameron’s life was his “only friend” Ray, played by Liam Oh. Another valuable resource that helped him get through many challenging moments was his own resilience. In a somatic therapy session with Cameron, it is important to identify resources and let him track the pleasant sensations he might notice in his body as he taps into such resources. Embodying such resources and tracking the accompanying pleasant sensations is a contradiction to the experience of his traumatic upbringings.

Not everyone who grew up queer or joined the military experienced trauma or mistreatment, and it's important to recognize that. However, for those LGBTQ+ individuals with more positive upbringings, it’s worth exploring how witnessing the mistreatment of other queer youth—whether directly or indirectly, through media, community, or shared stories—might have affected them. Additionally, being raised by loving, supportive parents who assumed their child was straight can create a subtle but meaningful disconnect. Even in caring households, that underlying assumption may feel at odds with a person’s authentic sense of self. Many LGBTQ+ individuals have found it helpful to process these experiences with a trained professional—especially one who is also a member of the community and has done their own personal work around similar dynamics.

As queer people, many of us grew up surrounded by heterosexual indoctrination. Regardless of what caused our trauma, we have the right to heal. Life is meant to be an opportunity to grow, to love, and to experience joy—not a constant reliving of unhealed pain. My hope is that in the next season, Boots will also portray the struggles of LGBTQ+ people of color who joined the Marines and faced even greater challenges—not only because of homophobia and transphobia, but also due to racial trauma. My hope is that we continue honoring the stories of LGBTQ+ members of the military and their sacrifices to serve this country by ensuring their voices are heard, their contributions remembered, and their service met with the dignity, equality, and respect they have always deserved.

© Payam Ghassemlou, MFT, Ph.D., SEP, is a psychotherapist (www.DrPayam.com), Somatic Experiencing Practitioner (www.SomaticAliveness.com), and artist (https://SomaticAlivenessArt.etsy.com)

Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist