This morning, I had one of the most transformative experiences in my healing journey: a session of Accelerated Resolution Therapy (ART) with my clinical supervisor.
As a therapist, it’s second nature for me to pick up patterns in my clients’ lives—what’s keeping them stuck, how trauma shows up, and where healing needs to happen. But when it comes to my own experiences, it’s not always so easy. Sometimes, knowing something intellectually doesn’t make it easier to release emotionally.
For years, I had been stuck in a trauma bond. Not because I believed it was love. In fact, I knew I didn’t even like this person. But my brain kept bringing up his image over and over again—during quiet moments, during stressful times, when I least expected it. And that felt incredibly confusing.
How could I be haunted by someone I didn’t want?
My clinical supervisor gave me language for what I was experiencing:
“That’s not love. That’s PTSD.”
And that’s exactly what it was. A nervous system stuck in a loop, still trying to make sense of something that was harmful.
ART is a short-term, evidence-based trauma therapy that uses voluntary eye movements, imagery rescripting, and memory reconsolidation to help the brain and body release distress. Research has shown that ART can significantly reduce symptoms of PTSD, anxiety, depression, and complicated grief—often in just one to five sessions (Kip et al., 2012; Kip et al., 2016).
Though it shares some similarities with EMDR, ART is more structured and focuses specifically on replacing distressing imagery with peaceful or empowering visuals. It also doesn’t require verbalizing the trauma in detail, which can make it a gentler process for many. Studies have found it to be particularly helpful for veterans, sexual trauma survivors, and individuals who struggle with avoidance or emotional numbing (Waters et al., 2018).
One of the most unique—and challenging—parts of ART is that it requires you to replay the traumatic scene multiple times in your mind, while following bilateral eye movements.
I’ll be honest: that part was hard. But it was also key.
Each time I replayed the memory in my mind, I noticed something start to shift. The image became less sharp. The emotional charge began to soften. By intentionally returning to the memory over and over—while engaging in eye movements—I was giving my brain the chance to finally reprocess it in a calm, safe, and regulated state.
This technique is grounded in neuroscience: when we activate traumatic memories in a controlled environment while simultaneously introducing calming input (like eye movements), the brain begins to store the memory differently. It’s no longer encoded with the same threat response. It becomes just that—a memory, not a trigger (Stickgold, 2002; Kip et al., 2016).
After several rounds, I didn’t feel the same reaction. The grip of that image loosened. And I was able to shift the scene completely—replacing it with something that felt safe, calm, and emotionally freeing.
Near the end of my session, I was instructed to imagine myself standing on a bridge, carrying the emotional weight of the trauma I’d been holding onto for years. I let it go—watched it fall. Then I walked to the other side of the bridge.
And waiting for me there was someone new. Someone I’ve recently met who shows me that kindness, presence, and emotional safety still exist.
In the visualization, he stood with his arms reaching out to me and he pulled me in close to him. And for the first time, when I thought about love, I felt peace.
The obsessive thoughts were gone. The heaviness had lifted. And I realized: this was the release I’d been looking for all along.
Trauma bonds often involve people who hurt us—but whom our brain keeps trying to “figure out.” Even when we know the person wasn’t good for us, the emotional pull stays.
That’s what trauma does.
Neurobiologically, trauma hijacks the brain’s threat-detection system, leading to emotional looping and preoccupation with unresolved pain. These experiences often remain "stuck" in the amygdala and right hemisphere of the brain, which govern emotional memory and attachment. Treatments like ART are designed to help shift these patterns in the nervous system—not just in thought (van der Kolk, 2014; Kip et al., 2012).
I said yes to ART to better understand it for my clients—but what I walked away with was so much more personal. After years of trying to release this bond, I finally did.
Not through talking.
Not through logic.
But by letting my brain do what it was always meant to do: process and heal.
This post reflects my personal experience as both a therapist and a client. It is not a substitute for professional medical or mental health advice. If you are experiencing distress or trauma-related symptoms, please consult a licensed mental health provider to determine the best course of treatment for your needs. Accelerated Resolution Therapy (ART) may not be appropriate for everyone.
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