If you've been exploring therapy options, you may have come across the term "somatic therapy" and felt uncertain about what it actually means. The word "somatic" comes from the Greek soma, meaning body — and that's really what it is about: bringing the body into the therapeutic process.
But what does that look like in practice? And how is it different from conventional talk therapy? Let me try to answer those questions as clearly and honestly as I can.
The problem somatic therapy is trying to solve
Traditional talk therapy is extraordinarily valuable. The ability to put words to experience, to be witnessed, to make meaning — these are genuinely healing acts. But talk therapy works primarily at the level of the cognitive mind: the part of us that thinks, analyses, and narrates.
The difficulty is that many of our deepest patterns don't live in the thinking mind. They live in the body. The tight chest that arrives before you can name the anxiety. The way you shrink when someone raises their voice. The heaviness that settles in your limbs when grief visits. The freeze that comes when you're overwhelmed — the moment when you're there but somehow not there.
You can understand all of that intellectually. You can know, cognitively, that you're safe — and still feel the fear in your body. Insight, alone, doesn't always translate into change.
"The body keeps the score" — a phrase popularized by psychiatrist Bessel van der Kolk — points to the way that our nervous systems record experience, often in ways that bypass conscious memory.
Somatic therapy addresses this gap. It works not just with what you think and feel, but with what your body does — and what that doing reveals.
What a somatic therapy session actually involves
Let me be specific here, because I think there's a lot of misunderstanding. Somatic therapy in my practice is not massage, yoga, breathwork, or bodywork. There is no physical contact. You remain fully clothed. You can sit, stand, or lie down — whatever feels right to you.
What changes from regular talk therapy is the quality of attention we bring. As we talk, I might invite you to notice what's happening in your body as we explore something difficult. Where does that land? What do you notice in your chest, your throat, your hands? Does anything shift as you speak?
These aren't rhetorical questions. They're invitations to develop a different kind of literacy — one that includes the body's signals alongside the mind's narration.
Sometimes we might slow down and stay with a sensation — not to analyse it, but to simply be with it. To let it move, if it wants to. To notice what comes next. This is very different from the normal pace of conversation, and some people find it takes some getting used to.
Who benefits from somatic therapy
Somatic approaches are particularly well-suited to certain kinds of experiences:
Trauma and PTSD. Trauma often gets lodged in the body in ways that purely verbal approaches don't fully reach. Somatic therapy can help process traumatic material at the physiological level — not just the narrative level.
Chronic anxiety. If your anxiety lives primarily in your body — the tight chest, the shallow breathing, the constant bracing — somatic work can help you develop a more direct relationship with those signals and learn to regulate them.
Eating disorders and body image. The relationship between mind and body is often particularly fraught in eating disorders. Somatic approaches can gently rebuild body trust and interoceptive awareness — the ability to sense and respond to your body's actual signals.
Dissociation and numbness. If you've learned to disconnect from your body — whether through trauma, chronic stress, or the patterns of eating disorders — somatic work offers a gradual, safe pathway back to embodied experience.
What somatic therapy is not
It's worth naming a few things somatic therapy isn't, to clear up some common misunderstandings:
It is not a replacement for conventional therapy. It is not an alternative to medication for those who need it. It is not about "releasing" emotions dramatically or having cathartic experiences (though emotions do sometimes move in sessions — that's natural and welcome). And it is not something you need any special capacity for.
You don't need to be "in touch with your body" to begin. Many people who come to somatic therapy start from a place of disconnection — and that disconnection is not a barrier. It's often where we begin.
A note on the evidence
The somatic approaches I draw on — particularly Somatic Experiencing (SE), developed by Peter Levine — have a growing evidence base, especially for trauma. The neuroscience underlying somatic therapy (polyvagal theory, the role of the limbic system, the window of tolerance) is well-established and increasingly recognized across the mental health field.
If you're curious
If what I've described resonates with something in you — even if it's hard to name — I'd encourage you to trust that. Somatic therapy isn't for everyone, and it isn't always the right approach at every stage of someone's healing. But for many people, it offers something that other approaches haven't quite reached.
If you'd like to explore whether somatic therapy might be right for you, I offer a free 20-minute consultation — a quiet conversation with no obligation.
About the Author
Sarah Cushing, RP
Sarah is a Registered Psychotherapist in Ottawa specializing in eating disorders, trauma, and somatic therapy. She practices at Liminal Bloom Counselling and Consulting, offering in-person and virtual sessions across Ontario.
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