Dana, this was such a breath of fresh air in my feed today. I love the way you approach the end of the year, not with urgency, but with a soft invitation to slow down and actually feel where we are.
My word for this year has been patience, something I didn’t even realize I struggled with until life kept bringing me back to it. Reading your post, it made me smile to realize how naturally it pairs with intention. My intention has been to learn patience, which feels funny to admit out loud. One year in, and I’m still practicing. Maybe that’s the point.
The line about “the subtle tension in your shoulders” — mine isn’t subtle at all. It’s been shouting at me lately. Thank you for this pause, this moment to breathe into that tension instead of push past it. Even that felt like a small act of care.
I love that you invite us to notice without needing to fix. So much of the content I’ve been reading lately pulls people into their past or into crisis. Your writing brings us back into our bodies, to the small spaces where growth is actually happening. Notice what’s closing, notice what’s growing beneath the surface, that landed deeply for me.
And your December acrostic… beautiful. Such a gentle anchor. It captured exactly what this month feels like: quiet endings folding into quiet beginnings.
Thank you for closing the year this way with presence over pressure. It reminded me that even the smallest awareness is enough.
Thank you so much for sharing this, Andrea 🤍 I love how you’ve noticed the way patience and intention intertwine, and how even a 'shouting' shoulder can become a point of care when we pause with it. This is exactly the kind of gentle, embodied noticing I hoped the post might offer.
In some continued learning I did a few years back with Dr Eric Gentry (Master Traumatologist), he told us how studies have shown that approaches forcing people to relive trauma, like some early psychotherapy with vietnam veterans, were retraumatising... which is why our nervous system needs gentleness, presence, and small, careful steps of care.
I was reminded that trauma-informed support isn’t about going into the past or 'fixing' ourselves. It’s about noticing what’s happening in the present, responding with awareness, and moving forward.
I’ve always wondered why some approaches ask people to relive their trauma to “heal.” It never made sense to me intuitively, especially when the nervous system is already overwhelmed. I think that is part of the reason so many people are resistant to therapy.
I agree that trauma-informed support isn’t about digging into the past as much as staying with what’s happening now, with gentleness. Building capacity in the present feels like real healing, so when pieces of the past arise, the system actually has support this time.
Exactly, Andrea. I couldn’t agree more! This is actually one of the reasons I walked out of my psych master’s degree halfway through... I realised I didn’t align with approaches that asked people to relive their past based on someone else’s theory.
I love holding space for people in the here and now, helping them notice what’s happening in the present and supporting them to move forward at a pace their nervous system can manage.
I saw the same in my work in cancer support... many people didn’t sign up for, or stick with, formal counselling or psychotherapy. I’m not saying there isn’t a time and place for these modalities or that one modality is better than the other because they are all relevant, but over four years of my own professional observation, around 90% of clients preferred emotional support, a strong cuppa, complementary therapies, and peer support groups (creative expression often trumping condition-specific sessions). It’s definitely these small, relational steps (combined with co-regulation) that build real capacity and resilience.
Reading this brought back memories of something my foster parents practiced for years, co-counseling. They always said it helped them tremendously, and the small bits they did with me were exactly what you’re describing here: staying present, noticing what the body was holding, and allowing whatever needed to release to simply arise.
What struck me even then was how powerful real listening is, not analyzing, not digging for trauma, just witnessing with genuine presence. It felt like such a humane, nervous-system-aware way of supporting someone, long before I had language for it.
Your work reminds me so much of that same ethos, gentle, relational, grounded. It’s a beautiful approach, and I’m grateful you’re bringing this kind of care into the world.
Thank you, Andrea. I really appreciate that! And I've noticed that too, meaning people often come to me when they’re looking for a different kind of support. Somatic work feels a bit like where mental health support was years ago… a new field emerging. It’s exciting to be part of that shift 🙏🤍🌟
I love hearing that, Dana. It really does feel like a shift toward a more humane, embodied way of offering support. I can imagine how fulfilling and energizing that must be for you. I'm truly happy for you, and I so appreciate you sharing your insights with us here on Substack. 🕊️🤍
Thank you for this, Dana. I felt myself relax as I read your gentle words. I'm aiming to keep December simple while trying not to feel guilty for it. (My moments of gratitude for the calm are still met with moments of anxiety for choosing the calm.) I'll get there... looking forward to reading more from you next year! 🤍🩷🤍
What you described, Lisa, is so common. Calm can feel unfamiliar, and guilt may linger alongside it. Choosing calm, even with anxiety nearby, is a win for your nervous system. Over time, the guilt quiets, and the sense of safety grows. A couple more letters are coming before we close the year. I'm so glad you are here 🤍
Thank you for the beautiful poem! What I love best about writing - and reading - poetry is that is does slow me down, to focus on individual words, as much as how they are assembled piece by piece, slipping into mindful coherence. I've never chosen a word of the year. I would need time to sit down and contemplate that, offline with mug of mugwort tea.
Thank you, Cheryl 🫶 I love what you said about slowing down to really savour the words. Often, a mug of tea (loving mugwort as your choice of tea), a soft chair, and a few mindful breaths is all it takes for your word of the year to gently surface.
Dana, this was such a breath of fresh air in my feed today. I love the way you approach the end of the year, not with urgency, but with a soft invitation to slow down and actually feel where we are.
My word for this year has been patience, something I didn’t even realize I struggled with until life kept bringing me back to it. Reading your post, it made me smile to realize how naturally it pairs with intention. My intention has been to learn patience, which feels funny to admit out loud. One year in, and I’m still practicing. Maybe that’s the point.
The line about “the subtle tension in your shoulders” — mine isn’t subtle at all. It’s been shouting at me lately. Thank you for this pause, this moment to breathe into that tension instead of push past it. Even that felt like a small act of care.
I love that you invite us to notice without needing to fix. So much of the content I’ve been reading lately pulls people into their past or into crisis. Your writing brings us back into our bodies, to the small spaces where growth is actually happening. Notice what’s closing, notice what’s growing beneath the surface, that landed deeply for me.
And your December acrostic… beautiful. Such a gentle anchor. It captured exactly what this month feels like: quiet endings folding into quiet beginnings.
Thank you for closing the year this way with presence over pressure. It reminded me that even the smallest awareness is enough.
🤍 Andrea
Thank you so much for sharing this, Andrea 🤍 I love how you’ve noticed the way patience and intention intertwine, and how even a 'shouting' shoulder can become a point of care when we pause with it. This is exactly the kind of gentle, embodied noticing I hoped the post might offer.
In some continued learning I did a few years back with Dr Eric Gentry (Master Traumatologist), he told us how studies have shown that approaches forcing people to relive trauma, like some early psychotherapy with vietnam veterans, were retraumatising... which is why our nervous system needs gentleness, presence, and small, careful steps of care.
I was reminded that trauma-informed support isn’t about going into the past or 'fixing' ourselves. It’s about noticing what’s happening in the present, responding with awareness, and moving forward.
I’ve always wondered why some approaches ask people to relive their trauma to “heal.” It never made sense to me intuitively, especially when the nervous system is already overwhelmed. I think that is part of the reason so many people are resistant to therapy.
I agree that trauma-informed support isn’t about digging into the past as much as staying with what’s happening now, with gentleness. Building capacity in the present feels like real healing, so when pieces of the past arise, the system actually has support this time.
Exactly, Andrea. I couldn’t agree more! This is actually one of the reasons I walked out of my psych master’s degree halfway through... I realised I didn’t align with approaches that asked people to relive their past based on someone else’s theory.
I love holding space for people in the here and now, helping them notice what’s happening in the present and supporting them to move forward at a pace their nervous system can manage.
I saw the same in my work in cancer support... many people didn’t sign up for, or stick with, formal counselling or psychotherapy. I’m not saying there isn’t a time and place for these modalities or that one modality is better than the other because they are all relevant, but over four years of my own professional observation, around 90% of clients preferred emotional support, a strong cuppa, complementary therapies, and peer support groups (creative expression often trumping condition-specific sessions). It’s definitely these small, relational steps (combined with co-regulation) that build real capacity and resilience.
Reading this brought back memories of something my foster parents practiced for years, co-counseling. They always said it helped them tremendously, and the small bits they did with me were exactly what you’re describing here: staying present, noticing what the body was holding, and allowing whatever needed to release to simply arise.
What struck me even then was how powerful real listening is, not analyzing, not digging for trauma, just witnessing with genuine presence. It felt like such a humane, nervous-system-aware way of supporting someone, long before I had language for it.
Your work reminds me so much of that same ethos, gentle, relational, grounded. It’s a beautiful approach, and I’m grateful you’re bringing this kind of care into the world.
Thank you, Andrea. I really appreciate that! And I've noticed that too, meaning people often come to me when they’re looking for a different kind of support. Somatic work feels a bit like where mental health support was years ago… a new field emerging. It’s exciting to be part of that shift 🙏🤍🌟
I love hearing that, Dana. It really does feel like a shift toward a more humane, embodied way of offering support. I can imagine how fulfilling and energizing that must be for you. I'm truly happy for you, and I so appreciate you sharing your insights with us here on Substack. 🕊️🤍
Endings and beginnings speak deeply to me Dana. I have saved this post as I feel I will need it in the coming weeks. Thank you as always.🙏✨
I'm so glad this spoke to you, Clare 🫶 May you find moments to rest, breathe, and be present with yourself, just as you give presence to others 💛
Thank you for this, Dana. I felt myself relax as I read your gentle words. I'm aiming to keep December simple while trying not to feel guilty for it. (My moments of gratitude for the calm are still met with moments of anxiety for choosing the calm.) I'll get there... looking forward to reading more from you next year! 🤍🩷🤍
What you described, Lisa, is so common. Calm can feel unfamiliar, and guilt may linger alongside it. Choosing calm, even with anxiety nearby, is a win for your nervous system. Over time, the guilt quiets, and the sense of safety grows. A couple more letters are coming before we close the year. I'm so glad you are here 🤍
Thank you for the beautiful poem! What I love best about writing - and reading - poetry is that is does slow me down, to focus on individual words, as much as how they are assembled piece by piece, slipping into mindful coherence. I've never chosen a word of the year. I would need time to sit down and contemplate that, offline with mug of mugwort tea.
Thank you, Cheryl 🫶 I love what you said about slowing down to really savour the words. Often, a mug of tea (loving mugwort as your choice of tea), a soft chair, and a few mindful breaths is all it takes for your word of the year to gently surface.
I love this Dana - I spoke about the word of the year too and changed mine to SURRENDER 💟
Brilliant, Donna! My word for 2026 is 'promise'. Surrender has so much power behind it ⚡️
Power is an undestatment and so true! I hope more people choose a word for 2026! I’d like to see what they chose and why.
Me too, Donna :)