You Can’t Out-Think What Your Body Is Trying to Heal: Lessons from Burnout and Recovery with Leann Herron
Being a badass trauma therapist means walking a very thin line most days.
The inner dialoge of “I love this work and I know its weight and I also know how easily I can end up running on fumes while telling myself I’m “fine.”
Yes, you’re supposed to manage vicarious trauma, all the things, but the doing often gets snagged inside systems that reward over-functioning and silence needs. That’s not a personal failure, sadly it’s the water we’re all swimming in.
Recently, I sat down with Leann Herron, a life and holistic health coach for Gen X women. She worked in the legal field for over a decade and, in her words, she powered through anxiety and brain fog for years until a case slammed into an old trauma and her body said no more.
While the specifics of her job were different from ours, the pattern was painfully familiar: competence on paper, collapse inside the nervous system. But that moment wasn’t weakness, it was data.
And today I get to share the lessons I’m taking forward from our talk (pro tip - listen to the full convo on YouTube!) — for me, for you, and for anyone who’s been white-knuckling their way through meaningful work.
When work hits a nerve, the body calls time-out
Leann described that season like living with a dimmer switch that suddenly clicked to “off.”
Panic. Memory glitches. Hypervigilance.
That sense that if she took her eyes off the task for one second, something important would fall apart. You know that shift in your body, right? When it goes from “I can hold this” to “I can’t take one more input,” and the edge you end up on…
If you’re here right now, please hear me: that edge is not a verdict on your capacity or your worth. It’s a message from a body that has been absorbing impact for a very long time. In trauma therapy, we normalize this for clients all day long. We forget we need the same permission.
You can’t out-think what your body is trying to heal
This is the heart of my conversation with Leann. The reality that I can analyze, protocol, and schedule myself into a corner but when my nervous system throws a flag — racing thoughts, held breath, tight jaw, dissociation disguised as productivity — the way through isn’t more thinking.
It’s noticing and allowing, even for sixty seconds, so the system can reset. And this isn’t indulgent, it’s clinical! Because capacity precedes competence.
A quick gut-check I use: if I’m reaching for more information when what I actually need is less input, I pause. Then I pick one tiny body-first cue (you’ll find plenty below) and do it now, not “after notes.”
Inside BRAVE, we call this giving yourself permission to be human in the work. Not a blank slate, not a robot, human. That humanity is the doorway to vicarious resilience, not just less vicarious trauma.
Protect your energy without disconnecting
I’m not interested in the “leave work at work” fantasy that asks us to wall ourselves off.
And Leann is so wise and throughout our talk shared simple grounding rituals that helped her stay present without absorbing everything: stepping outside, bare feet on grass, a moment with her plants before and after sessions with clients.
The point wasn’t magic crystals or perfect routines; it was remembering her role and bookending her energy.
For you as a trauma therapist, that translates to micro-rituals that open the channel for empathic engagement and then close it without shutting down our humanity.
That’s exactly the stance I teach and practice: open enough to connect, not so open you carry it home in your bones.
Recovery often starts with subtraction
Leann took a year to rest, get therapy, and layer in holistic supports. Many of us can’t hit the brakes that hard, but we can still practice subtraction inside a full schedule:
Fewer back-to-backs,
One non-negotiable breath cue between sessions,
A five-minute walk before switching roles at home.
Doing less may be the most clinical thing you do this week. (Yes, I’m talking to myself, too.)
Try this this week (somatic, fast, and doable)
These are quick, realistic practices you can use today. No special gear. No drama. Use what fits and leave the rest.
10–20 seconds (between sessions, in the hallway)
Physiological sigh
Inhale → tiny top-up sip → long, unforced exhale through the mouth. Twice.
Why it helps: quickly lowers arousal and lets the shoulders drop without forcing it. Learn more about this practice in my interview with Lynn Fraser.
Palm press reset
Press palms together at chest height for 5 seconds, release for 5; repeat twice.
Why it helps: gives your system a clear on/off sensation so tension can cycle out. Think Progressive Muscle Relaxation on the very quick end of the spectrum.
Micro-shake
Unclench your jaw, let hands dangle, shake wrists/fingers for ~10 seconds. Add ankles if standing.
Why it helps: discharges that buzzy, “held” energy without being dramatic. Seriously try this, it works.
30–60 seconds (in your chair, door closed)
Neck + vagal glide
Sit tall. Eyes look right while head stays forward ~10 seconds (wait for a swallow/yawn/sigh). Center. Repeat left. Gentle only.
Why it helps: cues the nervous system that you’re not under immediate threat.
Jaw + tongue unclench
Tongue on the floor of the mouth, lips closed, teeth apart. Slide lower jaw side to side ~20 seconds.
Why it helps: relaxes jaw/face tension that often spikes after hard content.
Towel squeeze (or sleeve)
Roll a small towel or grab your sweater sleeve. Two-handed squeeze 5 seconds on the towel, release 5 seconds; 3 rounds.
Why it helps: gives the body a safe “work–rest–work” pattern so it can let go. Another variation of PMR.
1–3 minutes (between back-to-backs or before heading home)
Wall lean, back body on
Stand with your back and head supported. Breathe into your back ribs for 5 breaths; option for one slow mini-squat and rise.
Why it helps: lets the wall “carry” you so your system doesn’t have to.
Calf pump for discharge
Rise to toes, then let heels drop softly 10–15 times.
Why it helps: gentle rhythmic movement that settles excess activation.
Box + stretch combo
4-count inhale → 4 hold → 6–8 exhale, repeat twice. Interlace fingers, reach up, side bend right/left. Keep exhale longer.
Why it helps: longer exhales signal “safe,” stretches rinse out upper-body tension.
If a story feels “stuck in the body”
Map it, don’t fix it
Silently note: where is it, size, edges, temperature, movement. 30 seconds. Then name a neutral sensation (chair under thighs, air on skin).
Why it helps: moves you from spiraling into simple noticing so the body can settle.
Contain + park
Picture placing the image/sensation in a container and putting it on a mental shelf to revisit in consult or journaling. You can also use a literal container in your office and put imaginary or real reminders of the material in there.
Why it helps: honors the material without asking your body to carry it between sessions.
Brush it down
Flat hands: shoulders → fingertips; chest → belly; hips → knees → feet (over clothes). Finish with a firm press on the sternum.
Why it helps: tactile input tells your system “this is me, this is not me,” which helps separate from the story.
A gentle reframe before you go
If you caught yourself nodding along to Leann’s story, that doesn’t mean you’re doing therapy wrong.
It means you’re human in a field that often pretends we’re not.
Inside The BRAVE Trauma Therapist Collective, we practice this humanity together by naming vicarious trauma honestly and learning how to tap into vicarious resilience through community, not isolation.
If you want simple bookends for your day and sessions, grab my Soft Transitions tool — quick open/close cues you can use in under 2 minutes. Plus, it includes an AI chatbot I personally trained to help you through any questions or barriers!
And if you’re craving a place to be held while you keep doing the work you love, join BRAVE for $12/month and come breathe with us.
P.S. If you try any of the practices above this week, tell me what you notice in the comments! One sentence is plenty. Your feedback helps me keep these supports realistic and grounded.
