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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

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

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