My Second EMDR Session: Groundwork and Stress Responses

I walked into my second Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) session with one goal: keep the momentum going.

But I also came in with a sense of worry and internal questions I hadn’t said out loud: What if I’m too detached from my feelings? What if my memory is too foggy for this to work?

My therapist explained something that renewed my confidence: Sometimes we don’t remember the details of an event, but we remember the emotion, and our bodies remember the sensation. That mattered to me, because recalling specific details of times in my past has been a challenge for me. This session reframed it as something else entirely: Memory isn’t only the ability to visualize my history, sometimes it’s a pulse, or a tightness in my chest, or even an inadvertent reflex.

The groundwork before the “real” EMDR

What surprised me most about this session, is that we didn’t dive directly into deep and painful memories. Instead, we spent time setting the foundation so when we do go deeper, it will feel safe. We covered:

• Detachment + dissociation

Because I mentioned feeling detached sometimes, my therapist did a brief assessment to understand my baseline. I was able to describe to her how I often zone out, go on autopilot or feel emotionally far away from things that should feel close.

It wasn’t a matter of labelling me, rather figuring out how to keep me present enough to process memories without them floating away.

I’ve spent a lot of my life learning how to stay functional and calm during uncomfortable situations. EMDR requires something different: Being present while you’re uncomfortable. Not spiraling. Not shutting down. Not outrunning it. Just… being still.

• Stress response

When we talked about how I typically respond to distress, there was no hesitation in my response: I freeze.

Literally shutting down, not speaking and maybe not even moving. Once I’m feeling a little less overwhelmed, I often grab my journal to organize my thoughts or vent to friends to express what I’m thinking and feeling.

My nervous system moves in stages. And if I’m not careful, I judge myself for the freeze stage, when it might actually be my body’s first attempt at protection.

• Distressing memories

My therapist asked me to choose a memory that felt like a 3 or 4 on a 1–10 distress scale, with 10 being the most distressing. It was really difficult to recall a mid-level distressing moment. These days, it’s not unusual for me to feel things in extremes: either I’m fine, or I’m at an 8/9/10.

Eventually I landed on a work memory: being laid off. Not even the moment I found out, but what led up to being informed and the uncertainty I felt when we were all notified that layoffs were coming. She asked me to go back to that memory and to those feelings. As I did, my body reacted with anxiety:

• nervousness in my hands,

• tightness in my chest,

• that familiar feeling of “something is coming.”

As I talked through that experience my distress rose and then came down. That rise and fall happened with ease because the present-day me knows the outcome; I survived it. Ultimately it became a pivot point in my life that was positive.

• The belief underneath the belief

Next, we explored my the fear-based thoughts related to that distressing memory. During that time I questioned:

• What if I can’t handle this?

• What if I can’t provide?

• What if everything falls apart?

But as we kept going, another belief surfaced, one that felt older than the job loss:

• Will life always be hard?

• Will I always have to push through?

And then the emotion underneath that. A sadness so heavy it felt like heartbreak in my chest. Not because I’m incapable, but because I’m tired of needing to be strong.

That was a moment in this session I won’t forget. I’ve built a life around resilience, and sometimes resilience gets praised in a way that ignores the residual cost.

Wrapping up with a resource

Before we wrapped, my therapist guided me into something different. Instead of a distressing memory, she asked me for a calm one. I thought of a short girl’s trip to Niagara Falls with my best friend. The imagery of
being on a boat, on the water, watching the waterfall. Sunlight. Mist on my skin. Rainbows in the spray.

We paired that memory with a “butterfly hug” (tapping—bilateral stimulation). At first, it was hard to hold the memory and tap at the same time. But then my body softened into it, and I noticed something small, but important: a sense of being in the moment instead of just thinking about it.

My therapist told me to practice this visualization daily until our next session; like building a mental “home base” before going deeper.

What I learned during this intro into EMDR was that sometimes healing starts with practicing safety; not just processing pain.

What I’m taking with me

• I’m not “too detached” for healing. My system is doing what it learned to do.

• My distress scale is skewed because I’m used to either functioning or falling apart.

• I freeze first. And I don’t need to shame myself for that.

• My body can still access joy. Even if it’s been a while.

• I want more moments full of joy, and I’m allowed to practice them on purpose.