5 Ways the SSP is Trauma-Informed
When you do the SSP with me, it’s trauma-informed. And that goes beyond a buzzword into tangible actions and practices. So if you’re wondering how LAND is trauma-informed, that’s so valid, and I want you to know these things before you begin. You deserve the kind of trauma-informed care that meets your needs and honors your nervous system and lived experience. Read on to find out a bit more about my approach.
When you do the SSP with me, it’s trauma-informed. And that goes beyond a buzzword into tangible actions and practices. So if you’re wondering how LAND is trauma-informed, that’s so valid, and I want you to know these things before you begin. You deserve the kind of trauma-informed care that meets your needs and honors your nervous system and lived experience. Read on to find out a bit more about my approach.
Listening moves at the pace of your nervous system
We listen 10 minutes at a time, followed by processing & support. This way, the listening isn’t overwhelming. It’s doable and digestible, and there is time built in for integration and self-care, as well as group connection. Also, you can always listen less. I will encourage you to honor your capacity. In LAND, your NO will be celebrated as much as your YES!
Relationships grow at the pace of your nervous system
I know joining a group, and a healing group especially, can be vulnerable and tender. In LAND, we can take our time. We have 12 weeks to get to know one another. I will be nurturing connections and comfort but not rushing or forcing them. Connections can grow on your unique timeline, and that’s okay (and even encouraged!) with me.
There is no forced sharing!
Part of the group magic is witnessing other folks and bringing your experience to be witnessed. In this light, sharing is always invited and even encouraged. But I'm also here to encourage you to honor your boundaries and needs. Sometimes you might share a little, sometimes a lot, sometimes there are no words or they're just for you. That's okay! Also, voice AND chat are open for shares. I strive to be very inclusive and adaptive when it comes to sharing, and this is a place to practice showing up and sharing the right amount for you (not how much or how little you think you should share to be accepted.)
There is space for you to have the experience you need
In the SSP, you’re invited to listen to music for 10 minutes at a time. You can do whatever you'd like, and whatever feels right to you, while you listen. So you have a lot of agency and ownership over your experience. A lot of folks listen while: resting, moving, art-making, doodling, snacking, etc. You can do whatever supports your nervous system! And if you’re not sure what supports your nervous system or experience, this group is a lovely way to find that out and cultivate new tools, rhythms and practices.
The SSP isn't kapow! It's more like gentle waves. We titrate and we integrate.
Sometimes your experience can be intense, and there is space for that. But I also hope to co-cultivate a space where what comes up feels doable, digestible and for the most part be-with-able. This is where lasting change can occur. So how do we ensure the SSP is as gentle as it can be? We meet for 12 weeks, we listen for ten minutes at a time, and there is space to resource, self-soothe, and weave the lessons we're learning into our lives. And there is time for reflecting, processing and digesting our experience. Most people feel like what comes up might be a lot, but also through the SSP their experience of “a lot” can change and when things come up that in the past would have been too much, now it’s less overwhelming.
There are so many ways to be trauma-informed. Important aspects for you (and for me - this is just one blog, after all) might be missing from this list. But I hope this helps you see some of the ways I aspire to hold our group so everyone feels welcomed to show up as they are and has space to feel, grow and transform.
If it was as simple as letting go, wouldn't we all have let go by now?
I’m sure a lot of us can relate to this one. Working with a practitioner who seems to think it’s as easy as loosening our grip. Seeking support from someone who tries not-so-gently to unfurl our fingers. Sharing our story with someone whose words roll their eyes at us - why aren’t we over it, by now?
I’m sure a lot of us can relate to this one. Working with a practitioner who seems to think it’s as easy as loosening our grip. Seeking support from someone who tries not-so-gently to unfurl our fingers. Sharing our story with someone whose words roll their eyes at us - why aren’t we over it, by now?
(See also: what’s specifically wrong with us that we aren’t over it by now? And you can bet folks have some ideas about that, and maybe even a solution they could sell us. See also also: We should really be over it by now, by yesterday, by months ago.)
And here’s the thing. Our beings are so fucking wise. We let go when we can, and not a moment sooner.
Our choices are powerful, mindset can matter, and so too does the nervous system woven through our body - and this world we’re living in. These things often dictate our choices, help us to know when it’s safest to let go, and also when it’s safer to hold on.
In this world we are living in, safety can be hard to come by and letting go isn’t as easy as just deciding to do it. We are powerful, yes, and so are the systems we live in.
Being rushed to just let go can bypass the wisdom in holding on.
Being rushed to just let go might assume we can make this choice in a vacuum.
Being rushed to let go can assume a level of safety that may not exist yet.
Today I’m wondering if we can hold space for the brilliance in grasping as well as the release, not rushing either one, just trusting that ebbs eventually flow, and flows might stand still at an ebb every so often.
And what if there is wisdom in the tide going both ways?
And what if there is wisdom in us going both ways, too?
And what if the letting go is a thing we grow towards, all the while holding tender the parts of us that are holding on?
What might it feel like not to be rushed?
What might it feel like to be trusted in our timing, our holding, our grasping and the slow unfurl of releasing?
Asking the big questions gently,
Jess