Sometimes you sense something is off. Not so much anger — more a heaviness that won’t lift by talking about it.
From child reaction to adult presence
When he logged into our Zoom session, I saw it immediately: eyes downward, shoulders slumped, shallow breath. An email from his ex had hit him hard. Not angry, exactly — more sad and deflated. As so often for him, the arrow of emotion turned inward: anger that couldn’t move outward became self-blame.
He’d considered cancelling. “I don’t have space for this,” he said softly. But he stayed — and that turned out to be exactly right. I invited him to land. Feet on the ground, breath in the belly, attention to sitting. Slowly his breath opened, just enough to feel what was here.
The inward boomerang
He described the email. How the words lingered, how responsible he felt, almost guilty. His first impulse was to withdraw or think it was all his fault. The arrow that first pointed outward — towards the other — flipped inward. Anger became sadness. Sadness became self-criticism.
Instead of following the story, I invited him to stay with the body. Where do you feel this most? He closed his eyes and pointed to chest and belly. “It’s stuck,” he said. “As if I’m holding myself back.”
The child that wanted to do it right
We stayed there, without judgement. Under the sadness a younger part appeared: a child who made itself small, trying to solve tension by being nice and doing it right. He saw how that child had swallowed anger out of fear of rejection. The fear he felt when I invited him to feel the anger came from exactly there.
We took time to be with that child. Not to analyse or fix — just to be present. His tension softened, breath deepened. Tears came, then calm. “It’s like I finally see him,” he said. His posture changed: back straighter, gaze clearer, breathing deeper.
From fear to strength
Only then could anger move again — not as aggression, but as life force. The energy that had been held back now felt warm, grounded, steady. Anger as a natural power of boundary and self-respect. We explored how to allow that energy in the body, without aiming it at anyone.
He mentioned he had a punching bag at home. We agreed he’d use it that weekend — not to discharge, but to practice taking up space. To feel that strength and softness can coexist.
From self-blame to adult presence
At the end he felt lighter — as if something had fallen away. The situation with his ex hadn’t changed, but he was reconnected to something deeper: the adult, the mountain. From there he could see everything without getting lost in it.
What began as sadness and shame had transformed into calm and clarity. Not by understanding — by feeling. By staying present with what first seemed too painful.
Why this works
This is what I witness again and again in Brainspotting and other body-based work. We don’t have to force or analyse. By slowing down and letting the body speak, what wants to be seen comes to the surface. The nervous system settles, old survival layers loosen, and space opens for something new: steadiness, authenticity, strength.
Whether via Zoom or in the same room — it works just as deeply. The body responds to attention, not to distance. Online can even make it easier to let yourself be seen, because you’re literally in your own space.
Gentleness and precision
People who find me have often done a lot of inner work. They understand themselves well and still get stuck in the same loops. What makes the difference isn’t more insight, but the courage to stay precisely where it gets uncomfortable.
In that field — between gentleness and precision, fear and strength — transformation happens. That’s where people come home to their body, to themselves, to the reality of this moment.
Read also
- The Inward Boomerang — why we so often turn our anger against ourselves
On self-criticism, guilt, and how self-compassion emerges when you stop fighting yourself. - What Your Body Knows When Words Fall Short
On the wisdom of the body, and how tension can release when you stop trying to understand it.