EMDR Isn’t Magic, It’s a Process (and That’s the Point)
EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) is one of those therapy approaches that people are often curious about and just as often unsure of. Some descriptions make it sound mysterious or intense, while others oversimplify what it actually does.
As a therapist who both practices EMDR and has experienced it personally, I’ve found that the most helpful explanations sit somewhere in the middle. EMDR isn’t magic, and it isn’t rushed. It’s a structured, intentional process that helps the nervous system update how it holds past experiences.
So, what is EMDR?
EMDR is a psychotherapy that uses bilateral stimulation often eye movements but can be audio or tactile too, to help people process and heal from trauma and other distressing life experiences. The goal is not to erase memories, but to reduce the emotional distress associated with them by helping the brain reprocess those experiences so they are stored in a less activating way. EMDR is widely recognized as an effective treatment for trauma and PTSD, and it is also commonly used for anxiety and depression.
That is the most basic, clinically charged explanation. Thank you, Google.
When I explain EMDR in my own words, I usually describe it as a therapy that helps people feel less stuck. I often tell clients it’s kind of like learning that not every cat is a tiger. When you’ve lived through experiences where danger was real, your nervous system learns to respond quickly and intensely to anything that feels even remotely similar. EMDR helps the brain update that information so your body can respond to what’s actually happening now, rather than what happened then.
What does EMDR actually feel like?
You may have heard EMDR described, sometimes by celebrities, as being on a train, watching memories pass by through the window. That description has never felt entirely wrong to me, but it also doesn’t tell the full story. If you’re willing, come with me for a moment while I build on that metaphor.
EMDR is a process, and it starts well before any memory reprocessing happens. There is preparation involved: getting to know you, understanding areas of concern, identifying what we may eventually work on, and most importantly, building ways to stay safe or regulated.
If that phrase raises alarms, that’s understandable. By “staying safe,” I mean learning grounding tools that help keep you within a tolerable state of mind while doing deeper work. Traditionally, clinicians are trained to complete a full intake and identify targets early on. While that information matters, it can also be activating. In my practice, I tend to slow this part down and focus first on helping clients develop tools they can use if distress increases during sessions.
Because of this, Phase 1 and Phase 2 of EMDR often blend together in my work, and they can take time. One of my mentors once said, “As long as needed, but also as quickly as possible.” That balance has required a shift for me as a therapist. I’m used to letting clients fully set the pace, but with EMDR, when readiness is there, we move through the process together rather than circling it indefinitely.
If you’re familiar with therapy, the early sessions may look similar to a traditional intake. We talk about different periods of your life, identify people, events, and patterns that stand out, and begin to notice what still carries emotional weight. This stage can take a while, and that’s not a failure of the process, it’s part of it.
Phases 3–8 : what reprocessing can feel like
To explain this part, I’m going to draw from my own experience not only to avoid sharing client stories (which are not mine to tell and well HIPAA), but because EMDR can be difficult to understand without a felt sense of what changes.
My brain tends to organize memory through music. Certain songs act like bookmarks, pulling me back to specific moments or emotional states. When I was trying to find language for what reprocessing can feel like, a few lines from the song Through Glass by Stone Sour came to mind, particularly the sense of observing yourself from a distance rather than being fully consumed by what you’re remembering.
During my first reprocessing session, I was selected one of the most disturbing memories from my childhood. At first, it felt as though I was back in that moment. As processing continued, something shifted. I wasn’t reliving the experience so much as witnessing it from a different vantage point, almost like an older version of myself was present.
My role in that moment wasn’t to change what happened or intervene. It was to offer perspective and support to the younger version of me who had lived it and in some way, give her a voice. When my therapist and I revisited the memory later, the intensity simply wasn’t there in the same way. The memory itself hadn’t changed. It didn’t disappear. What changed was my body’s response to it.
That’s one of the things EMDR can do when it works well: the memory remains, but it no longer carries the same visceral charge.
Does this happen for everyone?
The honest answer is: it depends.
For some people, reprocessing happens more quickly. For others, it takes time to feel safe enough to even approach certain memories. EMDR isn’t magic, and it isn’t rushed. The work requires preparation, trust, and pacing that respects your nervous system.
If you’re curious about EMDR but also hesitant, that makes sense. Therapy, especially trauma-focused therapy, is not about forcing anything to happen. It’s about creating enough stability that change can occur without overwhelming you.
If you’re wondering whether EMDR might be a supportive option for you, you’re welcome to reach out to ask questions or learn more about working together. There’s no expectation to commit to a specific approach right away. Therapy moves best at a pace that feels steady, intentional, and manageable.
