Pause and Notice: A Gentle Invitation into Embodied Experience Beyond the Story By Payam Ghassemlou, MFT, SEP, Ph.D.

Everyone's story matters, and sometimes our personal mythology needs help emerging from the basement of repression or forgetfulness. Those of us in the helping professions often assume that every word of a client's painful story is like a step on a long staircase that must be climbed for healing to occur. Words can illuminate, organize, and bear witness to experience, but they are not the only path to transformation. There is also a sensory field beyond words—a place where memory, emotion, imagery, movement, and felt experience come together. Within that field, another kind of knowing becomes possible, and our stories can be rediscovered, reshaped, and gently integrated.

When I began my mental health counseling internship in 1990 at what was then known as The Gay and Lesbian Center in Hollywood, I had the honor of working with people whose life stories were shaped by homophobic and transphobic mistreatment, often beginning in childhood. As a young intern, I believed that interrupting a client by asking them to pause in the middle of sharing a traumatic story was neither polite nor empathic. Today, I see it differently. I now understand that inviting a pause can protect clients from becoming overwhelmed by the vortex of their trauma and from becoming retraumatized. A gentle invitation to shift from retelling the story to cultivating awareness of present-moment sensory experience beyond the narrative can offer a safer path toward healing. Rather than asking clients to climb every step of the staircase of trauma through words alone, we can also invite them into a sensory field where the body reveals its own wisdom and where healing can begin without requiring every detail to be spoken.

Years later, after studying Somatic Experiencing®, developed by Peter Levine, and participating in additional training in approaches such as the Full Embodiment (FE) Model, developed by Ariel Giarretto; Implicit Psychotherapy, developed by Abi Blakeslee; Somatic Practice, developed by Kathy L. Kain; and many others, my understanding of trauma shifted. I came to see that trauma arises from the nervous system's response to an overwhelming experience rather than from the event itself. I also learned that attending to physical sensations, rather than focusing only on the story of the trauma, is an essential part of recovery.

Over time, I realized that relying on the thinking mind as the only path to addressing the roots of trauma symptoms is often not enough. The brain structures involved in reflexes, implicit memory, and automatic survival responses are deeply connected with the body's protective responses. Trauma-informed therapy is most effective when it begins by engaging these systems through present-moment sensory awareness, allowing the nervous system to move toward regulation before inviting reflection and meaning-making.

Back then, many of us were unfamiliar with the concept of titration, the practice of processing traumatic experiences in small, manageable increments. Titration helps prevent clients from becoming overwhelmed or retraumatized by allowing them to approach only small pieces of their experience at a time while gently tracking the sensations arising in the body. This gradual process supports the nervous system in integrating difficult experiences with greater safety and resilience.

When offering trauma-healing approaches such as Somatic Experiencing®, it is important to educate clients about a bottom-up approach and the basic workings of the nervous system. This understanding can enhance and clarify the somatically focused therapeutic process.

The nervous system is constantly receiving information from both inside the body and from the environment, helping us assess whether we are safe, threatened, or in need of action. Through the autonomic nervous system, the body automatically adjusts breathing, heart rate, muscle tension, and other physiological responses that prepare us to respond to life's experiences. When we encounter a threat, the nervous system can activate protective survival responses such as fight, flight, freeze, shutdown, or appeasement. These responses are designed to help us survive, but when they remain activated after a traumatic experience, they can contribute to ongoing distress, emotional reactivity, and a sense of being stuck.

A bottom-up approach to trauma begins by helping the body experience a greater sense of safety. Rather than focusing first on talking about what happened, it supports awareness and regulation of the nervous system through present-moment sensations and bodily experiences. During a traumatic experience, survival responses can become dominant, making it more difficult for reflective awareness and meaning making to occur in the moment. As the nervous system becomes more regulated, it often becomes easier to explore the experience, develop new meanings, and move toward healing.

There is a silent shift happening in the helping professions. It involves inviting our clients to pause, notice, and allow that moment of awareness to become a doorway into present-moment embodied experience. It is a shift from retelling events to noticing and experiencing what is happening within the body.

This approach is not limited to working with trauma. It can become an embodied way of living and a deeper way of connecting with life itself. Whether we are watching a sunset at the beach, tasting strawberries, or experiencing any moment of pleasure or connection, pausing and honoring the body's experience in the present moment can bring us into a greater sense of aliveness. We begin to experience life not only through thoughts and narratives but also through sensations, gestures, movement, breath, and silence.

By cultivating the capacity to pause and notice, we create more opportunities to be present with ourselves and with the world around us. Embodiment becomes not only a therapeutic practice but also a way of deepening our connection with everyday experiences.

© Payam Ghassemlou, MFT, Ph.D., SEP, is a psychotherapist, Somatic Experiencing Practitioner, writer, speaker, and artist.

www.DrPayam.com

Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist offering online therapy in California, Oregon, and Florida.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Lavender Garden of Relationships: Beyond Colonized Models of Intimacy By Payam Ghassemlou MFT, SEP, Ph.D.

 

As members of the LGBTQ+ community, we have the opportunity to cultivate relationships free from imposed religious, cultural, and social conditioning. Yet many of us continue to subscribe to colonized approaches to intimacy out of fear of judgment or a desire for acceptance.

The garden of relationships is vast and diverse, offering many ways to love, connect, and build community. Whatever style of relationship you choose to cultivate is entirely up to you but let that choice be guided by what genuinely nourishes your life rather than by a desire for approval from the dominant culture.

Many gay men living in LGBTQ+-friendly urban neighborhoods such as West Hollywood or Greenwich Village may have a network that includes platonic friends, friends with benefits, a life partner (who may or may not also be a sexual partner), work colleagues, and, in many cases, a broader community through 12-step programs, LGBTQ+-affirming churches, or other social groups. Each of these relationships serves a different purpose, and together they can form a rich and interconnected garden.

Many of them are also in committed monogamous relationships. Other relationship structures commonly found within the gay community include, but are not limited to, polyamory, asexual polyamory, monogamish relationships, and open relationships. In my conversations with people who practice polyamory, I have learned that it is rooted in abundance rather than scarcity. Polyamory allows people to love and maintain committed relationships with multiple partners, challenging the dominant cultural expectation that one person must meet all of our emotional, relational, and sexual needs. While often visible in gayborhoods, these relationship structures are not limited to those spaces and exist across many communities more broadly.

Like any garden, queer communities contain a wide range of relational experiences, including rupture and infidelity, which are present across all communities. Cheating often reflects unresolved emotional wounding or acting out, and it can profoundly injure a partner who trusted a commitment to exclusivity. Whatever relationship structure we choose, honesty remains the soil in which love is able to grow.

In my experience, gay men who cultivate a deeper, more embodied relationship with themselves tend to make healthier and more intentional choices when forming connections with others. The healthiest gardens begin with tending to the soil. Likewise, authentic intimacy grows from self-awareness, integrity, and a willingness to nurture relationships that align with one's inner truth rather than society's expectations.

In my decades of research on cisgender gay men's approaches to relationships, I have observed a persistent hierarchy in which monogamy is often regarded as superior to non-monogamy, and being in a relationship is afforded greater social status than being single. Many gay men also evaluate a relationship by its duration rather than by its quality, depth, or the well-being of the people within it.

Gay men who do not conform to the traditional model of an exclusive relationship are frequently subjected to stereotypes of hypersexuality, with their ways of relating dismissed as promiscuous or morally deficient. These judgments do not reflect inherent truths about relationships. Rather, they mirror heterosexist values inherited from a broader culture that has long sought to regulate intimacy and impose narrow standards of legitimacy on us all.

There is nothing wrong with choosing a monogamous relationship. For many people, it is deeply fulfilling and aligns with their values. However, choosing monogamy does not make one's relationship inherently more virtuous, pure, or evolved than other consensual relationship structures. Likewise, choosing non-monogamy does not make someone less capable of commitment, integrity, or love.

Some of us choose exclusivity because one intimate relationship is already plenty to nurture, and expanding beyond that feels emotionally or practically overwhelming. Others find that focusing their romantic and sexual energy on one partner allows for a deeper sense of intimacy. These are valid reasons for choosing monogamy, but they do not confer moral superiority. None of us becomes holier, more enlightened, or somehow above others simply because we choose an exclusive relationship.

Love needs a healthy container, one that is free from scarcity, fear, and the need for approval from the dominant culture. Too often, people pour love into a pressure cooker they call their love life, and eventually it explodes because they are trying to force a square peg into a round hole. When people attempt to fit themselves into a monogamous relationship out of obligation or fear that other relationship structures will be judged as less legitimate, that relationship is built on external pressure rather than authentic choice.

Anyone who chooses a monogamous relationship should do so because it genuinely aligns with who they are, not because they feel they have to conform. Like any relationship structure, monogamy is a journey that requires intention, communication, adaptability, and continuous effort. Love does not thrive simply because two people decide to be exclusive. It flourishes because they are willing to nurture the relationship over time.

Another source of judgment and shame within the gay community concerns the length of a relationship. There is a pervasive myth that the longer you have been with one person, the higher your social status. Relationships are often evaluated by their duration rather than by their quality. I know couples who have been together for decades yet are deeply unfulfilled. Nevertheless, they are admired and placed on a pedestal simply because they have maintained a long-term exclusive relationship. That admiration can make it difficult for them to honestly explore whether the relationship they are in continues to serve them. The expectation to remain together at all costs can keep people from entering the garden of relationships to discover what truly nourishes them.

As a community, we sometimes reinforce relationship models that mirror the expectations of a dominant culture shaped by colonialism, heterosexism, and heterosexual indoctrination, rather than encouraging people to choose what genuinely fits their lives. I am often congratulated for being with the same partner for almost twenty-eight years. Rarely does anyone ask about the quality of our relationship. Fortunately, our relationship is both deeply fulfilling and enduring, but the praise almost always centers on the number of years rather than on how we have grown together.

Any consensual relationship, regardless of its structure or duration, requires the continual development of communication skills, emotional maturity, and a willingness to evolve. For some people, this may also include seeking professional support. It may also involve healing unresolved relational trauma and learning to regulate the nervous system so that conflicts are not experienced through the lens of past wounds or persistent states of threat. As we become more embodied and our nervous system develops a greater capacity for safety, connection, and repair, we are better able to respond to our partners with presence rather than react from survival patterns. No one should be made to feel inferior because they choose a relationship structure that differs from cultural expectations or because a relationship, whether monogamous, non-monogamous, brief, or enduring, comes to an end.

Healthy relationships grow from self-awareness, emotional responsibility, and an embodied capacity for safety, respect, and consent in action. From this foundation, we are better able to recognize when our behavior is shaped by care and when it is shaped by unconscious or reactive patterns formed through sexism, misogyny, shame, family and peer expectations, and past trauma.

Judging one another for the way we connect serves no one. Monogamous couples are sometimes criticized as boring or overly restrictive, while non-monogamous couples are often stereotyped as incapable of commitment or intimacy. Neither assumption is fair. As a community, we benefit from respecting one another's relationship choices, provided they are grounded in honesty, mutual consent, and care rather than deception or exploitation.

At the same time, not every relationship pattern reflects authentic freedom. Many gay men engage in impulsive or self-destructive sexual behaviors rooted in unresolved trauma, loneliness, or other emotional wounds. What initially appears to be a search for pleasure can instead become a cycle of pain and compulsion. Because many gay men grew up receiving messages that their sexuality was shameful or unacceptable, conversations about sexual compulsivity require great care. The goal is not to reinforce shame or internalized homophobia, but to distinguish between healthy sexual expression and behavior that has become compulsive and harmful.

When your relationship with sex becomes driven by compulsive patterns, whether through chemsex, an endless pursuit of hookups, or other behaviors that disregard your own well-being or that of others, you are no longer acting from freedom. You are being driven by compulsion. Such loss of agency can have significant consequences, including sexually transmitted infections, substance dependence, damaged relationships, career setbacks, legal problems, and a diminished sense of self-respect.

Before entering the garden of relationships to explore the many ways of loving and connecting, it is essential to cultivate a conscious and embodied relationship with your own erotic life. This includes awareness of patterns such as love addiction, which can become harmful when left unexamined. Love addiction refers to a pattern of becoming emotionally dependent on romantic attachment or on the intensity of “falling in love” itself. In this state, a person may rely on relationships for self-worth and emotional regulation, leading to repetitive pursuit of romantic connection even when it is harmful or destabilizing. Over time, this can disrupt daily life and make it difficult to sustain grounded, reciprocal intimacy.

The garden of relationships flourishes in the fertile soil of nonjudgmental acceptance, where the many ways we form connection are honored rather than ranked. We are free to cultivate authentic relationships when our attachment patterns are no longer shaped by unhealed relational trauma or constrained by colonized approaches to intimacy, but instead grow from embodied choice, mutual respect, genuine care, and wholehearted consent. Only then can love take root in the ways that are most true to who we are.

© Payam Ghassemlou, MFT, Ph.D., SEP, is a psychotherapist (www.DrPayam.com), Somatic Experiencing Practitioner (www.SomaticAliveness.com), writer (https://www.drpayam.com/articles_and_book), and artist (https://SomaticAlivenessArt.etsy.com)

Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist online anywhere in CA, OR & FL.

Joyfully Queer: Tending to Your Vibrational Field with Intention By Payam Ghassemlou Ph.D., MFT, SEP

 

At our core, we are made of energy. In fact, everything in the universe can be understood as energy in motion. Science shows us that all matter is composed of tiny atoms that are constantly moving and vibrating, forming patterns of energy. The speed of these vibrations—often described as frequency—relates to energy levels: faster movement corresponds to higher energy, while slower movement corresponds to lower energy.

As a metaphor, we can connect these ideas to our emotional lives. Higher “vibrational frequencies” can represent feelings like joy, love, and gratitude, while lower ones may reflect fear, anxiety, anger, or fatigue. While this isn’t a literal scientific mapping, it can be a useful way to think about how our internal states shape our experiences.

So, what does this have to do with being gay? Human beings are deeply responsive to one another. The way we feel about ourselves often influences how we show up in the world. As a queer person—however you define your beautiful identity—your sense of self can be shaped by how fully you embrace and celebrate who you are. In my work supporting queer wellbeing, I’ve seen that when people cultivate self-acceptance and pride, they tend to experience more positive interactions and opportunities.

One practical explanation is behavioral: when you feel good about yourself, you’re more likely to act with openness, confidence, and authenticity. That, in turn, invites more supportive and affirming responses from others, reinforcing a positive cycle.

Because of this, it’s important to address the impact of homophobia and transphobia—especially when those messages become internalized. Many queer people have had to navigate difficult paths to self-acceptance. That journey deserves recognition. Take a moment to reflect on the courage it took to claim your true identity. In a world that can be unwelcoming or even hostile, choosing to live authentically is an act of strength.

When harmful beliefs about yourself go unchallenged, they can evolve into shame-based thinking. Shame can shape how you see yourself and how you relate to others. It can quietly influence your thoughts, your behavior, and your sense of worth. In the language of “vibration,” shame can be understood as something that clouds your energetic field—pulling you toward self-doubt, withdrawal, or disconnection.

This is why it’s important to “clean up” your vibrational field from internalized homophobia or transphobia. Cleaning up your field doesn’t mean forcing yourself to feel positive all the time. It means becoming aware of the shame you carry, questioning where it came from, and gradually releasing it. This can involve practicing self-compassion, challenging negative beliefs, connecting with affirming community, and seeking support when needed. As those layers of shame begin to lift, your internal state can shift in a meaningful way—you may feel more open, grounded, and aligned with your authentic self.

At its core, being gay is about the freedom to love. Coming out is often an act of choosing love over fear. You can nurture this sense of love intentionally. For example, take time each day to focus on something or someone you care about—a partner, a friend, or even a beloved pet. Recall a moment of connection and notice how it feels in your body. Allow that sense of warmth or ease to expand. Practices like this can help anchor you in emotional states that support your wellbeing and sense of connection.

Your internal state is also influenced by your body, particularly your nervous system. Pay attention to signs of tension or stress, and find ways to release them—through movement, rest, breathwork, or other supportive practices. Sometimes tension reflects daily stress; other times it may be connected to deeper, unresolved experiences. In those cases, working with a therapist—especially one trained in somatic approaches—can be especially helpful in learning how to regulate your nervous system.

Your thoughts, emotions, mindset, and relationships all shape your experience of life. Notice your thought patterns. Be aware of your feelings. Reflect on your perspective and the quality of your interactions with others. As a queer person, cultivating joy can be a powerful and meaningful part of your life’s purpose.

Life offers opportunities to grow, to connect, and to contribute. There is value in seeking meaning and living with intention. You have a right to feel good, and if negative thinking patterns or unresolved past experiences get in the way, you also have a right to heal.

Choosing joy as a queer person can be a powerful form of resistance. In the face of forces that attempt to diminish LGBTQ+ lives, living openly and joyfully brings something vital into the world. Your sense of pride, connection, and happiness doesn’t just affect you—it ripples outward, contributing to a more compassionate and vibrant shared experience.

© Payam Ghassemlou, MFT, Ph.D., SEP, is a psychotherapist (www.DrPayam.com), Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist

 

 

 

 

The Inner Witness: Embodied Awareness, Neuroception, and Queer Pleasure By Payam Ghassemlou Ph.D., SEP, MFT

 

For queer people, sexual desire often longs for wings—seeking to rise beyond the gravity of shame and heteronormative oppression. The queer body remembers; stories of homophobic wounding,  traces of which can be read in the patterns of the nervous system. When homoerotic desire has been bound too tightly to shame, the body may come to experience pleasure not as invitation but as danger. Desire hesitates at the edge of threat, and when pleasure is blocked, a restless urgency begins to stir—an ache for release, for a way through. From this tension, desperate pathways may emerge, including chemsex, as an attempt to slip past the sentinels of shame and reclaim a fleeting sense of freedom.

Paradoxically, chemsex can offer a fleeting escape from shame, yet its relief is often ephemeral. In the wake of use, crashes, risky encounters, or choices that betray one’s own values can stir a tide of guilt and regret. These echoes of shame do not fade quietly—they linger, feeding vulnerability, and beckoning the body and mind toward the very substances that promised temporary relief.

Addressing struggles such as sexual compulsion or chemsex calls for careful, compassionate attention so that the work of healing does not become another site of injury. Therapeutic support must be grounded in gentleness, avoiding the deepening of shame or the quiet wounds of internalized homophobia. The cultivation of the inner witness offers a path toward freedom—a steady, compassionate presence within that can illuminate and soften harmful patterns, including sexual compulsion and chemsex, and guide the movement toward wholeness. The inner witness is the light that allows us to read the book of our erotic desires and primary turn-on script with embodied awareness. It is a deep internal sense of knowing—that operates at the intersection of body, mind, and presence. It serves as a guiding capacity that supports the prioritization of safety, mutual respect, and embodied consent within sexual interactions.

The inner witness is sometimes mistaken for Freud’s concept of the superego. The superego stands as an internalized authority, formed in early childhood through the absorption of parental and societal norms, and it often speaks in rigid or punitive tones. In many lives, this voice carries heterosexist assumptions about relationships and sexuality, subtly or forcefully obstructing the acceptance of homoerotic desire. The inner witness, by contrast, does not judge or condemn. It is a quieter presence—an attentive awareness that listens rather than commands. When joined with embodied awareness, the inner witness allows one to remain gently rooted in lived, bodily experience, offering a compassionate orientation toward what truly deepens pleasure and sustains well-being.

The inner witness, as a form of embodied awareness, rests upon a nervous system in balance. When the autonomic nervous system is dysregulated, this inner guide struggles to sense the body’s truths or move gracefully through erotic moments. A regulated system, in contrast, can flow between activation and relaxation—between the rush of sympathetic arousal and the calm of parasympathetic ease—while attuning through neuroception, the body’s quiet sense of safety, danger, or life threat.

Coined by Dr. Stephen Porges, neuroception describes the subtle, instinctive way our nervous system reads the world. Trauma, however, can cloud this inner radar, making us overreact in safety or falter when danger is real. Healing restores the nervous system’s natural rhythm, transforming it from a chronic, reactive fight-or-flight state into a resilient, grounded presence—one in which the inner witness can fully inhabit the body, guiding us with clarity, safety, and attuned awareness.

In the pursuit of sexual pleasure, impulses and reckless urges often arise like untamed currents, calling for the quiet guidance of the inner witness, rooted in embodied awareness, to contain rather than act them out. David (a pseudonym), a 30-year-old cis gay man who travels frequently, carries an erotic fantasy of inviting strangers he meets on hookup apps to his hotel room—being restrained by them, used as a vessel for their desire. For David, whose past is marked by homophobic mistreatment and bullying, a nervous system clouded by impaired neuroception makes it difficult to discern true danger from illusion. When neuroception falters, the body’s innate radar for safety and threat becomes unreliable, leaving risky terrain treacherous and uncertain.

To awaken the guidance of his inner witness, David first had to reclaim his body from the lingering grip of unhealed trauma. He needed a nervous system attuned and resilient, capable of sensing safety and evaluating erotic encounters with clarity. Only then could his inner witness emerge as a steady presence—a compassionate guide that honors both pleasure and protection, leading him toward erotic experiences that are both vivid and safe.

The inner witness is more than a check against harmful behavior—it is a quiet, guiding presence within. In my work with sexually active cisgender gay men, many of whom seek to venture beyond the boundaries of conventional “vanilla” sex, cultivating this embodied awareness has proven deeply valuable. It moves as both shield and compass, helping individuals stay attuned to their limits, honor their boundaries, and remain anchored in their core values. Through the inner witness, the body and mind learn to recognize what feels aligned, safe, and authentic, illuminating a path through erotic exploration that is both pleasurable and grounded.

Finally, the inner witness has the potential to evolve as one’s healing journey moves beyond recovery from destructive behaviors and trauma, toward the discovery of the essence of who we are. The essence of being gay or queer is love. We come out to love freely. Some of us seek this love on hookup apps, but often, in the playground of these platforms, we find ourselves entering a hunting ground—a space where desire is frequently entangled with chemically facilitated encounters.

Yet there is another kind of erotic intoxication, one anchored in the heart of each other. Beneath our longing for hookups lies an empty space, waiting to be ignited with pleasure-infused love, waiting to be known for the sake of a deeper connection. Our inner witness can nurture this love by helping us feel it within our bodies, particularly in the heart space. The heart is where the flowers of love-infused pleasure bloom, and the fragrance of that pleasure fills and expands the heart.

 

© Payam Ghassemlou, MFT, Ph.D., SEP, is a psychotherapist (www.DrPayam.com), Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist

 

 

A Gay Somatic Therapist’s Take on Netflix’s Boots

 

A Gay Somatic Therapist’s Take on Netflix’s Boots

By

Payam Ghassemlou Ph.D.

Coming to terms with one’s gay identity has never been easy. For many of us—whether we served in the Marine Corps or performed on a chorus line—the process demanded our energy and courage, especially in the years before the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT) policy, when being openly LGBTQ+ came with even greater risks.

Netflix’s original series Boots attempts to portray the challenges faced by many gay service members before the implementation of the DADT policy. Unfortunately, many of these struggles still persist for LGBTQ+ individuals serving in the military today. In fact, we are living through a regressive period in which hard-won rights are once again being questioned and challenged.

Homophobia is a major reason why coming out can be particularly difficult for gay members of the military. It can prevent queer individuals from living authentic lives and, when internalized, can foster a deep sense of inferiority. To cope with or compensate for these feelings, many victims of homophobia push themselves toward external accomplishments and strive for exceptional success. For example, Sgt. Sullivan, portrayed by Max Parker in Boots, exemplifies such a high achiever. His drive to attain the pinnacle of “manhood” by becoming an elite Recon Marine was an attempt to silence his inner shame about being homosexual. Adopting toxic masculinity as a survival strategy was only one layer of his tragic life, which ultimately could not shield him from the consequences of institutionalized homophobia.

Based on my training and research in somatic psychotherapy and the functioning of the autonomic nervous system (ANS), I have come to understand that no amount of external achievement can erase deeply rooted feelings of inferiority—especially when experiences of shame have left lasting imprints on a person’s physiology. Chronic stress, such as that caused by homophobia, can repeatedly activate a person’s stress response. When this activation is unresolved, it can become “bound” in the body as trapped energy, manifesting as trauma symptoms. In the case of Sgt. Sullivan, the fear of being discovered for his sexual relationship with Major Wilkinson, played by Sachin Bhatt, took a significant toll on both his mind and body. The ongoing stress of living in a hostile, homophobic environment, coupled with his internal struggle around his sexual identity, kept his nervous system in a state of dysregulation and hyperarousal. His habitual rage in response to triggering situations exemplifies a nervous system stuck on “high.”

Homophobia set the stage for Sgt. Sullivan to live a tormented life, denying him the opportunity to fully engage in a loving relationship with Major Wilkinson. His need for self-protection outweighed his ability to allow himself to be loved. The safety he deserved—to embrace love with another man—was systematically denied, and that is a tragedy. For someone like Sgt. Sullivan, self-love is profoundly difficult when he cannot allow himself to receive love from another. The famous quote by RuPaul, “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else?” can be particularly challenging to apply in his case. For Sgt. Sullivan, being loved by Major Wilkinson could have provided the very foundation he needed to begin loving himself. For many in the LGBTQ+ community, allowing ourselves to be deeply loved by another person can be even more challenging than learning to love ourselves. Many of us have been rejected by those who were supposed to love and protect us. We may have mastered the practice of self-care through routines ranging from daily pilates to weekly Infrared saunas, yet when it comes to letting love in, we often keep our walls firmly up.

Another heart-wrenching story in Boots is that of Cameron Cope, a bullied gay teen played by Miles Heizer. Growing up in a world that did not honor his queer essence, Cameron endured years of abuse without adequate protection. The absence of support was made painfully clear when his narcissistic mother, Barbara, played by Vera Farmiga, admitted to her friend June, played by Joy Osmanski, that she had neglected her son when he needed protection from bullies. Each time Cameron was violently attacked at school, he felt powerless and internalized the belief that he was weak. Cameron was not weak; he was simply outnumbered. His nervous system was responding as it was designed to: when faced with a threat, it evaluates the best course of action for survival, choosing among fight, flight, freeze, or fawn responses. In Cameron’s case, his body determined that freezing or shutting down was the safest option. To label himself as weak does not accurately reflect his experience; it was instead a humiliating and deeply unjust interpretation of his body’s survival response.

Cameron joined the Marines to free himself from self-loathing and escape his unfulfilling home, defined by his mother. In one scene in Boots, Cameron’s mother tries to pressure him to leave the Marines, telling him, "This is not who you are," to which Cameron responds, "It is now." At first, viewers might interpret this as a moment of individuation, a step toward becoming his own man. However, he is merely exchanging one form of oppression for another. Joining a homophobic institution that trains him to “kill, kill, kill” will not heal the trauma he experienced growing up queer in a world that denied him the fundamental right to be treated with dignity and respect.

One way Cameron’s history of being bullied affected his nervous system is evident in a scene involving a combat exercise with his new friend Jones, played by Jack Cameron Kay. Watching Boots, we learn that as a bullied child, Cameron was often unable to fight back. As a result, a great deal of survival energy that was never expressed remained trapped in his body. For many abused queer youths who had to shut down or dissociate to cope with homophobic mistreatment, there is often a “volcano” of rage waiting to erupt. In Cameron’s case, that rage surfaces when Jones betrays him during a combat exercise by calling him the f-word. The violent scene illustrates how the sudden release of thwarted or incomplete fight-or-flight responses can result in uncontrolled displays of rage.

When it comes to healing from trauma, it's important to recognize that trauma is both a biological and physiological response to overwhelming events—not just a psychological one. As Dr. Bessel van der Kolk explains in The Body Keeps the Score, “Trauma lives in the body’s memory, not in the moment that caused it.” Similarly, Peter Levine notes, “Trauma is not what happens to us, but what we hold inside in the absence of an empathetic witness.” In my training on the impact of trauma on the nervous system, I learned that many queer individuals with a history of trauma often experience a persistent sense of threat, even in the absence of actual danger. This ongoing state of a perceived threat is a key component of anxiety. They may become stuck in a chronic fear response, which can manifest as a prolonged state of fight, flight, or freeze. Supporting the nervous system in completing the responses it couldn’t at the time of the trauma can help deactivate this stuck fear response and promote healing.

Perhaps if Cameron had access to somatic healing therapies, these dormant, incomplete responses to years of homophobic mistreatment could have been released in a gentler, titrated way. Using titration methods, he could process his trauma narrative without having to relive every detail and risk re-traumatization. By addressing small portions of his painful memories and gently revisiting bodily sensations while staying grounded in the present moment, Cameron could avoid becoming overwhelmed. By creating a safe space and using titration, he could allow his body to release stored trauma energy—through crying, shaking, trembling, or other natural responses—allowing him to renegotiate and integrate past traumatic experiences.

In addition to discharging stored trauma energy from his system, Cameron’s healing journey can involve identifying resources that helped him to get through many difficult years of dealing with a narcissistic mother and homophobic mistreatment at school. It is important to help a trauma survivor like Cameron to feel safe. I would ask Cameron questions that could guide him toward cultivating a sense of safety. I would begin by helping him identify what was—and still is—supportive in relation to being queer. By recalling and tuning into the felt sense of moments when he experienced safety growing up, he can approach trauma with more care and compassion. I would inquire from Cameron: What helped him cope with such overwhelming stress of dealing with bullies? How did he make it through? Who showed him kindness during that time? Naming what helped Cameron survive not only honors his resilience but also supports the process of gently shifting out of a stuck threat response.

A major resource in Cameron’s life was his “only friend” Ray, played by Liam Oh. Another valuable resource that helped him get through many challenging moments was his own resilience. In a somatic therapy session with Cameron, it is important to identify resources and let him track the pleasant sensations he might notice in his body as he taps into such resources. Embodying such resources and tracking the accompanying pleasant sensations is a contradiction to the experience of his traumatic upbringings.

Not everyone who grew up queer or joined the military experienced trauma or mistreatment, and it's important to recognize that. However, for those LGBTQ+ individuals with more positive upbringings, it’s worth exploring how witnessing the mistreatment of other queer youth—whether directly or indirectly, through media, community, or shared stories—might have affected them. Additionally, being raised by loving, supportive parents who assumed their child was straight can create a subtle but meaningful disconnect. Even in caring households, that underlying assumption may feel at odds with a person’s authentic sense of self. Many LGBTQ+ individuals have found it helpful to process these experiences with a trained professional—especially one who is also a member of the community and has done their own personal work around similar dynamics.

As queer people, many of us grew up surrounded by heterosexual indoctrination. Regardless of what caused our trauma, we have the right to heal. Life is meant to be an opportunity to grow, to love, and to experience joy—not a constant reliving of unhealed pain. My hope is that in the next season, Boots will also portray the struggles of LGBTQ+ people of color who joined the Marines and faced even greater challenges—not only because of homophobia and transphobia, but also due to racial trauma. My hope is that we continue honoring the stories of LGBTQ+ members of the military and their sacrifices to serve this country by ensuring their voices are heard, their contributions remembered, and their service met with the dignity, equality, and respect they have always deserved.

© Payam Ghassemlou, MFT, Ph.D., SEP, is a psychotherapist (www.DrPayam.com), Somatic Experiencing Practitioner (www.SomaticAliveness.com), and artist (https://SomaticAlivenessArt.etsy.com)

Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist

A Prideful Perspective on Growing Up Queer By Payam Ghassemlou MFT, Ph.D., SEP

 

Taking pride in our journeys of growing up and discovering our queer essence involves honoring the full diversity of our community. As a member of the LGBTQIA+ family, I cherish this diversity and hold space for those who may not claim the word queer as their own. As a cisgender gay man, I have spent more than three decades gathering the stories of other cisgender gay and queer men—stories woven with sorrow, defiance, tenderness, and fierce love. Through them, I’ve learned that we are a people of resilience, fearless hearts, and boundless compassion. It’s from this well of shared experience that I write. And still, no matter how you name your beautiful essence, may these words remind you to honor the quiet, unyielding courage it took to carry your spirit through the fires of becoming.

In previous articles, I’ve written in depth about the trauma of growing up in a homophobic and transphobic world—a world that often failed to honor our true essence—and the profound impact that has on our lives. By reflecting on the overwhelming experience of identity formation for LGBTQ+ youth who lacked support and faced mistreatment, I invited readers with similar histories to meet their own suffering with greater empathy. One path toward healing from trauma begins by cultivating compassion for the pain we’ve endured.

In this article, I invite readers to reflect not only on the courage it took to survive the challenges of growing up queer but also on the resources that helped them navigate those experiences. One meaningful way to engage with the experience of growing up in a homophobic and transphobic world is by identifying the tools, relationships, and inner strengths that carried us through. This strengths-based approach can help reduce the risk of re-traumatization when dealing with past trauma experiences.

One goal of processing difficult past experiences—often held in the body, including within the autonomic nervous system—is to gently release their hold on us. As we begin the work of letting go of embodied trauma, it's essential to stay grounded in the safety of the present moment. One way to do this is by welcoming the positive emotions that arise from acknowledging our journey toward self-acceptance and equality. By dropping into bodily sensations associated with such acknowledgement, we can create a more compassionate and gentler path toward healing. This isn’t to minimize the reality of today’s anti-LGBTQ+ climate—there is still much work to be done. But recognizing how far we've come and celebrating our progress can be both empowering and a source of hope as we continue on our personal healing journey and strive for greater justice and equality.

Not everyone who grew up queer experienced trauma or mistreatment, and it's important to recognize that. However, for those LGBTQ+ individuals with more positive upbringings, it’s worth exploring how witnessing the mistreatment of other queer youth—whether directly or indirectly, through media, community, or shared stories—might have affected them. Additionally, being raised by loving, supportive parents who assumed their child was straight can create a subtle but meaningful disconnect. Even in caring households, that underlying assumption may feel at odds with a person’s authentic sense of self. Many LGBTQ+ individuals have found it helpful to process these experiences with a trained professional—especially one who is also a member of the community and has done their own personal work around similar dynamics.

When it comes to healing from trauma, it's important to recognize that trauma is both a biological and physiological response to overwhelming events—not just a psychological one. As Dr. Bessel van der Kolk explains in The Body Keeps the Score, “trauma lives in the body’s memory, not in the moment that caused it.” Similarly, Peter Levine notes, “Trauma is not what happens to us, but what we hold inside in the absence of an empathetic witness.” In my training on the impact of trauma on the nervous system, I learned that many queer individuals with a history of trauma often experience a persistent sense of threat, even in the absence of actual danger. This ongoing state of perceived threat is a key component of anxiety. They may become stuck in a chronic fear response, which can manifest as a prolonged state of fight, flight, or freeze. Supporting the nervous system in completing the responses it couldn’t at the time of the trauma can help deactivate this stuck fear response and promote healing.

One gentle way to access trauma stored in the queer body is by cultivating a sense of safety. This can begin by identifying what was—and still is—supportive in relation to being queer. By recalling and tuning into the felt sense of moments when we experienced safety growing up, we can approach trauma with more care and compassion. For example, when I hear stories from gay or queer young people who have endured hateful acts, I often ask: What helped them cope with such overwhelming stress? How did they make it through? Who showed them kindness during that time? Naming what helped them survive not only honors their resilience but also supports the process of gently shifting out of a stuck threat response.

Queer people who grow up in challenging circumstances—especially experiences of homophobia or transphobia—require a safe therapeutic space. In that space, individuals can honor the deep courage it took to survive and begin to see themselves as the heroes of their own stories. Taking this a step further, we might become curious: How does the person’s body respond to being validated as the hero of their own story? What sensations arise as they recall the people, places, or moments that supported them during their upbringing? Do they feel warmth or openness in their chest? Do their shoulders feel lighter? Has their breathing shifted? Is there any change in their vision?

In a safe therapeutic setting, the person recovering from trauma can begin to gently orient to the safety of the present moment as they process and integrate early life experiences. Given my extensive training in the Somatic Experiencing approach to trauma healing, I have learned one way to do this is by pausing and noticing the environment through the senses. This simple act of orienting involves exploring your surroundings—letting your eyes move naturally, turning your head gently, and allowing your gaze to rest on an object for a few moments. When you're ready, you can continue scanning the environment in this mindful way. It can also be helpful to notice what feels pleasant in your surroundings and stay with that experience for as long as it feels supportive. For example, you might see a beautiful tree outside your window. If it feels pleasant, let yourself really notice it and track any corresponding sensations of ease or comfort in your body. Through this practice, the person on a healing journey may begin to cultivate a deeper sense of inner safety, grounding their reflections in the present as they explore and make meaning of the past.

In my work with queer people, I have learned that for some, there were no helpful resources available to cope adequately with the pain and suffering caused by homophobic and transphobic bullying. They cannot recall anyone who offered support or anything that lessened the humiliation they felt for being different. In such cases, the person can be invited to imagine the missing resources and notice what happens internally when they picture having those resources during that time. For example, Lee, a 25-year-old queer nonbinary person, grew up in a small religious community in the Midwest, without the privilege of a queer-friendly environment like Greenwich Village in New York or open-minded parents. They experienced homophobic mistreatment at home and bullying at school. When invited to recall any resources or situations that helped ease their suffering, they could not remember any. Processing their trauma while staying within the trauma vortex—where overwhelming emotions, memories, and sensations make it difficult to function—could have led to re-traumatization. Instead, Lee benefited from imagining the missing resources being available during their childhood. Through their imagination, they pictured RuPaul and an army of drag queens coming to their rescue, freeing them from bullying and humiliation. The bodily sensations that arose from this imaginal experience activated their ventral vagal pathway, creating a state of safety and relaxation. The experience felt profoundly real in their body. For the first time, they experienced the freedom to use imagination as a doorway to transform what they could not change as a child. They were not denying the overwhelming feelings they had growing up, but for the first time, began to experience pleasant sensations that contrasted with the trauma-related feelings. Repeatedly moving between the distress of their past and the safety created through imagination helped regulate their autonomic nervous system, preventing it from becoming stuck in hyperarousal (overwhelm and agitation). This process strengthened their emotional resilience and allowed them to integrate past experiences without re-traumatization.

Unlike Lee, many queer people found helpful resources while growing up, and they needed therapeutic support to tap into the healing power of recalling and embodying those resources. Even Lee needed help to discover how they managed to get through their painful experiences and still be here to talk about them. Later in their therapy, Lee discovered that rocking their body from side to side was a somatic resource that helped them self-soothe and manage anxiety during their childhood. This discovery happened during a session when they were unaware they were rocking as they reflected on their past. By being invited to pause and notice what their body was doing, Lee recognized that this movement had helped them through difficult moments. They took pride in the wisdom of their body for offering a resource when none was available from the outside.

Finally, we live in a world where most of us grew up surrounded by heterosexual indoctrination. For those of us with a queer soul, this often meant having to protect ourselves from its pervasive influence. We sought refuge in the resources available to us and can take pride in the survival skills we developed and the support systems we leaned on to get through. It’s important to recognize the bodily sensations connected to these resources, allowing them to serve as a foundation for whatever may emerge as we continue our healing journeys. Regardless of what caused our trauma, we all have a right to heal. Life is meant to be an opportunity to grow, to love, to experience joy—not a constant reliving of unhealed pain. That’s why somatic-focused trauma therapy is so necessary—not only for LGBTQ+ people, but for anyone living with trauma. It offers a path forward, a way to reconnect with ourselves, and a chance to fully thrive.

© Payam Ghassemlou, MFT, Ph.D., SEP, is a psychotherapist (www.DrPayam.com), Somatic Experiencing Practitioner (www.SomaticAliveness.com), writer (https://www.drpayam.com/articles_and_book) ,and artist (https://SomaticAlivenessArt.etsy.com)

Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist online anywhere in CA & Florida

Goal Achievement Made Simple

Having a clear sense of purpose can significantly enhance your motivation in life, and goal setting is a powerful way to cultivate that purpose. By setting clear, actionable goals, you can maintain focus and avoid feeling lost. Many successful people have clear goals and follow sensible plans to achieve them. Goal Achievement Made Simple is designed to help you set meaningful goals and provides manageable steps to help you bring those goals to life.

You might find it easier to focus on one goal at a time. However, if you choose to pursue multiple goals, simply apply the Goal Achievement Made Simple process separately to each one. By following each simple step, you’ll be on your way to achieving your objectives.

The link provided on this page will direct you to a site where you can learn more about obtaining the printable PDF of Goal Achievement Made Simple. This popular and simple 5-page goal-setting and action plan PDF makes the process of achieving your goals more accessible. Based on feedback from psychotherapists, coaches, teachers, artists, business professionals, people with ADHD, and writers who have used Goal Achievement Made Simple, it’s highly likely you will benefit from it too.

The process has been kept concise to avoid overwhelming you with excessive affirmations, to-do lists, or unnecessary tasks. Achieving your goals requires focusing on positive emotions and beliefs, so you are encouraged to stay optimistic and seek out resources that support your journey.

The time to work toward your desired outcome is now. Imagine the joy of achieving what you truly desire. Follow the link to learn more about how to obtain the 5-page Goal Achievement Made Simple printable PDF.  https://somaticalivenessart.etsy.com/listing/1892642469