EMDR Session 3: When the Memory Unlocks
Note: This post references childhood sexual abuse and the emotions that can surface during trauma therapy. I haven’t include graphic details, but please take care of yourself as you read. If you need to pause, please do just that.
I’ve heard people describe EMDR like it’s a miracle button: you wave your eyes back and forth and suddenly you’re healed. With this only being my third session, I’m not sure I believe that. I’ve only had limited experience, but it already feels much harder than that.
This session felt like the first time I truly understood what EMDR is asking of me… allowing my body to tell the truth long enough for my brain to move the memory to where it belongs. It’s not technically complicated, but it wasn’t easy either.
We started where we left off in the previous session. Using my personal ‘resources’ to visualize the “calm place” and the feelings of joy I associate with that memory. In the same way I was asked to access that memory and feelings for something positive, I’d was also asked to do that for distressing feelings. Moving the positive memories to a place where they were easy to me retrieve was the first step. Now I need to figure out where the distressing ones sould be ‘re-filed’.
We spent time with what EMDR calls target identification, choosing which memories the therapy will focus on. My therapist tried one approach first: When you think about how you feel now, what negative belief about yourself “screams” the loudest?
I drew a blank. Not because I didn’t have one, but because I’ve done enough talk therapy to understand my thoughts and have logically worked through many of the things I’ve once believed about myself.
But EMDR isn’t asking what I understand, it’s asking what still lives in my nervous system.
When I couldn’t think of anything she took a different approach. She asked: What experiences, childhood or adulthood, feel like the biggest contributors to how you feel right now?
I shared that I was sexually abused by my mother’s husband as a child. When I told my mother what had been happening to, instead of protection, I experienced denial and minimization. During the session I described what it was like to have no safe family nearby, and how I ultimately told someone at school because I couldn’t carry the burden alone anymore.
As I spoke, the words/beliefs that came up weren’t intellectual. They were human:
unprotected
unsupported
lonely
betrayed
And then something else became apparent. I had learned how to survive by becoming self-sufficient. That self-sufficiency saved me and it also shaped me.
The beliefs underneath the memory
My therapist gently tried again to locate the belief that formed in that moment in my life.
There were a few obvious and expected ones at the tip of my tongue. Unworthy of love and protection was at the top of that list. But as I mentioned earlier, I’ve done a lot of work around the pain I felt about my mother’s reaction or lack thereof. I can now see her as her own woman (not just my mother), with her own story. I can acknowledge that her “best” still harmed me while releasing some of the identity-level shame I carried for years.
As we narrowed in on the most activated part of the childhood memory, the fear of the abuse and not being able to protect myself, another belief rose to the surface: I’m powerless.
That word powerless resonated in a way that was unexpected but felt so very accurate. Accurate for how I felt then, and often how I feel as an adult navigating the stresses of work, motherhood and more.
Measuring the distress
In EMDR, there’s a scale called SUDS: Subjective Units of Disturbance (0–10). It’s a way of naming how activated you feel in real time. Simply talking about the experience with my therapist started me around a 4.
But when I recalled the image connected to the fear, and noticed where it lived in my body, I felt extreme nervousness and anxiety, my number jumped up to 7.
And then we began the reprocessing.
The reprocessing
As I allowed that memory to linger in my mind, my therapist explained what my job was:
Hold the memory (not every detail, just the “snapshot” my brain associates with it)
Notice the body sensations
Notice the belief (“I’m powerless”)
Follow the eye movements
Report what comes up, without judging it
That phrase, “be a neutral observer”, was repeated often. It was difficult because neutrality is not what trauma taught me. Instead, it taught me to brace, leave my body, go numb and push through despite any discomfort.
In the middle of processing, I felt:
sadness rising
an urge to escape
my heart rate increase
the sensation of dissociating
difficulty catching my breath
tightness in my chest and a heaviness low in my belly
tension so strong I held my breath
At one point, my distress went higher than an 8, but I didn’t quit. I continued with the process and took deep breathes with my therapist and repeated the cycle several times with her guidance and support.
Eventually, something shifted. The memory started to fade losing its sharp edge. I was able to relax, and my breathing returned to a normal pace. Then my body started to come back to calmer state.
It’s been a really long time since I felt emotional about these memories. Before this session, I was nervous that I would not be able to access the emotions because I’ve been able to successfully numb the pain and fear for years.
Through this process I recognized, detachment is not proof that you’re “over it, instead, it’s proof that you learned how to survive it.
Where we’re headed next
As we began to wrap up the session, I asked my therapist to explain the bigger roadmap.
She let me know EMDR has phases and steps. We’re currently in the reprocessing/desensitization phase, working to bring the distress score as close to 0 as possible. Once it reaches 0, we move into installing a new belief. And the belief we’re moving toward is simple, but not easy: Instead of “I’m powerless,” I want to believe: “I am powerful.”
This session didn’t “fix” anything in one hour. But it did something I’m proud of: It proved to me that I can feel the wave and not drown in it.
Journal prompts
If you’re reading this and parts of it resonate, here are a couple journal prompts you use to dive deeper:
What did I learn to believe about myself because of what I lived through?
What would I rather believe instead?
