When the Past Won’t Let Go: Finding Freedom Through EMDR

Have you ever been so paralyzed by fear and anxiety that you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—could barely function?

That was me at the start of COVID. You’d think I’d feel relief—after winning a brutal custody battle, I had finally secured full rights to my son. We were free.

So why did I feel like I was falling apart?

I had been in survival mode for months, fighting for my child, for our unconventional family, for our future. When it was over, I collapsed—physically, emotionally, spiritually.

And then COVID hit. The whole world mourned the loss of normalcy. But I had already spent eight years grieving loss after loss, and I was one bitter B*#CH that my life was being hijacked again.

Worse, I was terrified. What if I lost the few people I had left to this mysterious plague?

I was a puddle on the floor, wondering: How can I be the mother my children deserve if I’m only a shell of a person?

I’d been in therapy for years, but nothing seemed to touch the root of my pain. Then one day, my therapist asked, “Have you ever tried EMDR?”

I had never heard of it.

EMDR—Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing—is a trauma therapy designed to help people process deeply rooted pain like PTSD.

It combines bilateral stimulation (such as eye movements and rhythmic sounds) with guided therapeutic work to help the brain integrate traumatic events. You bring up the memory. You stay with the pain. And while you do, the therapist guides you to reflect on what you’ve learned from the experience. Little by little, the pain loses its grip.

Here's why it works. The brain’s survival center—the reptilian brain—and the reasoning center—the cognitive brain—don’t talk to each other. EMDR creates a safe space for those two systems to connect and, finally, to heal.

It’s not easy. You relive your trauma—safe in the hands of your therapist—until your body stops reacting as if the danger is still happening. I went back through the darkest chapters of my life: losing my foster child. Then Rachel. Then Brandon. Every session felt like emotional surgery.

But after four months, it was like a two-ton weight had been lifted from my chest.

Of course, the grief never fully disappears. I will always mourn the loss of my children.  But today, I can talk about and honor them without falling apart.

If you—or someone you love—is still living inside an old wound, I want you to know: healing is possible. EMDR helped me stitch myself back together and find solid ground. It might just be a lifesaver for you too.

Thanks to Wendy Byrd at Connected Heart Therapy for helping me get my life back.

Learn more about EMDR on Cheri’s Choice or feel free to DM me.