an introduction to the interoception series
Fifteen years after finishing graduate school, I’m back in front of one of my old professors, Brooks. Only now, he’s my therapist.
We’re staring at each other through a Zoom screen after I asked (well, desperately demanded) that he take me on as a patient following the traumatic death of an ex-boyfriend.
“Where are you feeling the grief in your body?” He asks.
I’m completely embarrassed and too ashamed to meet his gaze. Staring at my keyboard, I’m struggling to answer his question.
“I don’t know”, I say.
And I mean it.
It’s strange how the feeling that demanded these (very expensive) sessions can’t be found in this moment. He gives me a sympathetic smile — one that I quickly interpret as “Bless your heart, you’ve got a long way to go.” It’s the kind of smile I gave to my little cousin last month when she approached me beaming, flaunting her self-done makeup (with eyeshadow up to her eyebrows and glitter everywhere). It was earnest, and it was a mess. But I loved her for trying.
That’s how I imagine I look now. Tender and unready. Awkwardly stumbling through emotions that have sat unheld since childhood.
Actual little cousin not pictured, but we were along these lines.
In the next year of therapy, I investigated the relationship between my emotions, and triggers with clarity. But, despite the insight, I still felt at the mercy of my emotional reactions. Awareness alone wasn’t enough.
While I could understand my patterns intellectually, I struggled to intercept my emotional reactions in real time. No amount of insight could stop the automatic response once I was triggered—a disconnect I now understand as the difference between awareness and embodiment.
Eventually, Brooks gently led me to an understanding that my healing wasn’t about gaining more awareness — it was about deepening a different kind of awareness: body awareness.
Learning to notice — really notice — what was happening inside my body. Hunger. Tension. Fear. All of it.
At first, it felt like trying to learn a different language. Years of dissociation and distraction had muted my ability to interpret the signals from my body. But slowly, I learned how to tune in. Not just to what I felt or why I felt it , but to where I felt it. How it signaled me. How it moved. And what it was asking for.
If you can relate — if you’ve analyzed your feelings from every angle, but still feel stuck, this series is for you.
Our next four essays will explore interoception; the ability to sense, interpret, and respond to the body’s internal signals, and explore how somatic awareness is often a missing therapeutic link between intellect and integration. Together, we’ll chart a grounded, practical path towards your emotional fluency and self-trust.