Your session guide
Somatic work is different from a typical session. The more you understand what to expect and how to care for yourself around it, the deeper the work can go.
The hours before a session matter. Your body arrives before your mind does. These aren't rules — they're conditions that allow the work to go deeper.
You deserve a space that feels private and contained.
The nervous system reads the body's state first. Prepare accordingly.
Don't over-prepare. You don't need an agenda or a list of what to say.
A dropped connection mid-session breaks the container.
If something happened — an argument, a panic attack, a wave of grief — reach out before we start. We can adjust the pace, and sometimes knowing you're held before we begin is part of the session. You don't need to arrive "okay."
Sessions don't follow a script. But there's a general arc — and it helps to know it so you're not spending mental energy trying to figure out what's happening.
We begin by slowing down. Not with a structured technique — just with a few minutes of checking in. How is your body right now? What do you notice? This is not small talk. This is already the work. The body starts to orient and settle when someone is actually paying attention to it.
Something will surface — a tension, a feeling in the chest, a memory, something you're carrying from the week. We follow that. My job is to track the body signals alongside the language: what shifts in your breath when you say that? Where do you feel that in your body? Often the body knows before the mind does where we need to go.
This is the heart of the session. We might use a breathing technique to create a shift. We might sit with a specific sensation in the body without moving away from it. We might work with a memory somatically — not by reliving it, but by tracking how it lives in the nervous system now. I'll ask you to notice and describe physical sensation more than you're used to. This is intentional.
Tears are common — not because we dug for them, but because something releases when it finally feels safe. Shaking, yawning, or sighing during a session is not distraction — it is discharge, which is exactly what we're working toward. You might feel suddenly very tired, very spacious, or both. Laughter sometimes comes. Anger sometimes comes. All of it is welcome and all of it is useful data.
We don't end abruptly. The last 10–15 minutes are for integration — grounding, bringing the body back to regulation, making sense of what happened (lightly). You'll leave with a sense of what arose, not a homework list. The work continues in the hours and days after — and I'll tell you what to watch for.
You don't need to perform processing. You don't need to have a breakthrough. You need to show up, stay honest about what you feel, and trust that the body will move if you let it.
— AnnaYou can stop anything at any time. If a direction feels wrong, say so. If you need to slow down, say so. Consent is not a one-time thing at the start of a session — it's ongoing. Your "no" is part of the work too.
What happens in the 24–48 hours after a session is part of the session. This is not metaphor — neurological rewiring happens in the period after a significant experience, not during it.
If you can, do not go straight from a session into something demanding: a hard meeting, a busy environment, a lot of screens, alcohol, a difficult conversation. Give yourself 30–60 minutes of transition time after.
This is not because you'll fall apart. It's because the nervous system is in a plastic, integrative state after somatic work — it is literally more open than usual. That is valuable and rare. Use it gently.
In the hours or day after a session, you might notice:
If you find yourself overwhelmed, dissociating, or in a state that feels too activated in the 48 hours after a session — reach out. That is what I'm here for. Use the practices on this site (especially box breathing, the body scan, and 5-4-3-2-1 grounding) and contact me via WhatsApp if you need support.
A session opens something. Integration is how you live that opening into your actual life. Without integration, insights stay as insights. They don't become change.
Don't try to analyse the session or extract lessons from it. Just let it be what it was. Your job today is to be gentle, to rest, and to notice — without judgment — what arises in the body.
If you want to write, don't write analysis. Write sensation: what did you feel in your body? Where did you feel it? What were the images or memories that moved through? Keep it sensory and specific. Avoid interpreting or concluding.
One thing I'll often suggest at the end of a session: a single practice to carry into the week. It might be one minute of physiological sighs in the morning, a body scan before sleep, or a 2-minute grounding check-in when you notice you're reactive.
The goal isn't more to do. It's one thread of presence, woven consistently.
Between sessions, pay attention to when you feel pulled back into old patterns — the freeze, the shutdown, the over-activation. That is where the next layer of work lives. Note it, don't judge it. Bring it to the next session.
Progress in somatic work often looks like: "I noticed I was doing the thing — and I had a moment before I did it." That moment is the work. That's the gap forming.
The body changes slowly, invisibly, and then all at once. Trust the process even when you can't see it moving.
— Something I remind every client who gets impatientThese are the tools I recommend in the days after a session. They're all on the free practices page with full explanations.
The first session starts with a conversation. Free. No pressure to commit.
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