If you're not feeling anything no matter what you're going through, what are you missing?
"My neurotransmitters are on my side now."
She said it the way someone references a long-term problem that is no longer an issue.
She wasn't describing a breakthrough moment. She was describing a Tuesday. A vacation with her kids. A situation at work that would have coiled something tight inside her — and didn't.
The person in this post is a composite — a few clients with similar trajectories whose experiences have been woven together and details changed. The pattern is real. The identifiers are not.
She's an ICU leader. Decades of training herself to stay functional when functional was the only option. She can walk into a code and shut down the part of her that registers horror, coordinate a team, and bring someone back from the edge.
That ability didn't come from nursing school. It came from long before.
She grew up learning to read the room. To manage people's reactions before they happened. To keep up appearances, to smooth things over, to make herself a little smaller so the situation stayed manageable. By the time medicine found her, she already knew how to turn off what wasn't useful in a crisis. Medicine didn't build the efficiency machine. It recruited one — and with it, saved lives. And rewarded it handsomely.
The problem is that an efficiency machine doesn't have an off switch that's easy to find.
She stuffed her emotions down in the midst of a medical crisis — and she stuffed them down at home too. Not because the stakes were the same, but because the nervous system doesn't always know the difference between a code and a vacation. It had learned one setting: alert. Scanning. Ready to manage whatever was about to go wrong.
So she never fully relaxed into a vacation. Never quite felt the full weight of a child's accomplishment. Never had the experience of a quiet cup of coffee and some reflection to start the day — just the low hum of readiness that had kept her functional for decades.
At some point on the other side of EMDR, she turned to me and said:
"This is what vacation is like? I think I understand now why people like vacation."
She wasn't being wry. She genuinely hadn't known.
This is what I see in my office with clinicians and high-performing leaders who are objectively excellent and quietly unreachable — even to themselves. The strategy that built the career became the strategy for everything. Including their own inner life.
That's not a character flaw. That's an adaptation. A nervous system that learned, early and well, that staying alert was safer than staying open. Brené Brown's research names what that costs: you cannot selectively numb. Close off the experiences that feel threatening, and you close off access to everything else too. The numbing that protected her from pain also blunted joy, connection, and the quiet moments that are actually living.
Here's what wasn't going to help her.
Not psychoeducation about her patterns. Not a worksheet on identifying triggers. Not breathing techniques and a self-care plan. Not weekly therapy where she talked about her childhood until she understood it well enough to write a paper on it.
She was a leader in medicine. She already understood more about the human stress response than most therapists will ever learn. Handing her coping skills would have confirmed every suspicion she had about therapy — that it was for people who just needed to try a little harder, and that a master's-level social worker wasn't going to tell her anything she didn't already know.
Understanding the pattern was never the bottleneck. The pattern was stored somewhere that insight couldn't reach.
EMDR doesn't start with understanding. It works directly with the nervous system — the part that learned the shutdown response in the first place, stored it, and kept running it long past the context that required it.
And this is the distinction that matters most: EMDR isn't about learning to manage your stressor responses better. It's about not having the stressor response anymore — not when it isn't warranted. She'll still feel fear if she nearly gets in a car accident. Appropriate responses stay intact. What changes is the old programming that was running on files from decades ago, recruiting her nervous system for threats that weren't there.
When that processing happens, the adaptation doesn't disappear. She can still walk into a code. She didn't lose what made her exceptional. She just stopped paying for it with the rest of her life.
Her neurotransmitters are on her side now. The situations that would have triggered the old contraction — don't. Not because she's managing them differently. Because something shifted on a deep level, and there's no response to manage.
She's still doing great at her job — respected and appreciated by peers, leading with confidence and compassion the next generation of medical professionals.
A 2022 systematic review in the Journal of EMDR Practice and Research found that chronic exposure to psychological trauma is associated with autonomic nervous system dysfunction — and that EMDR works in part by engaging the parasympathetic nervous system, reducing the chronic arousal state that keeps the body on alert. The mechanism isn't primarily cognitive. It's neurobiological. The brain and body process what couldn't be processed in the moment, and the charge attached to those memories changes.
What she called her neurotransmitters being on her side is as precise a description of that process as I've ever heard from a clinician.
When did you first notice that something had shifted?
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Katherine Driskell is an EMDR therapist based in Minnesota, serving clients across the state and via intensive format.
Source: Covers, M. et al. (2022). The Effectiveness of EMDR for Medically Unexplained Symptoms: A Systematic Literature Review. Journal of EMDR Practice and Research. https://spj.science.org/doi/10.1891/EMDR-2022-0017
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