The Gentle Neck, Shoulder, and Soft-Focus Eye Release

• Best for: Releasing chronic holding patterns in the suboccipital (lower back of your head, upper neck) muscles at the base of the skull while signaling deep safety and relaxation to the brainstem.

• How to do it:

  1. Find your posture: Sit or stand comfortably with a tall spine, dropped shoulders, and a soft jaw. Let your tongue rest loosely in your mouth.

  2. Resting on your thighs or knees (Classic & Relaxing): Rest your palms face down or face up on your thighs. This keeps your shoulders heavy and naturally anchored, preventing them from creeping up toward your ears as your neck moves.

  3. The Soft Eye Lead: Allow your gaze to become wide and soft, taking in your peripheral vision rather than staring at a single point. Slowly shift only your eyes to the far right, letting your vision remain gentle and panoramic.

  4. The Head Follow: Once your eyes have moved, let your head and neck follow smoothly to the right, stopping right at the edge of comfort (never straining).

  5. The Return: Pause for a breath. Then, first shift your eyes back to the center, and let your head and neck follow back to neutral.

  6. Switch sides: Pause briefly, soften your gaze again, and shift your eyes to the far left. Let your head and neck follow to the left, return your eyes to the center first, and bring your head back to neutral.

  7. Pace and flow: Repeat this sequence 3 to 4 times total, making sure your eyes always lead the movement with a soft, unfocused gaze before the neck turns. Keep your breathing slow and smooth throughout.

Please let me know if this “release” is helpful. And, what else might help you with your body when you are experiencing estrangement.

Best,

Kathy

You can contact me through the Chat, the Comments, or email me: ksinsheimermft@gmail.com

This is the 10th in Dear Estranged’s Somatic Exercise Series

We recently spent time with our low-contact child. It felt really great, and mostly it wasn’t too tense—though I was walking on eggshells.

Then something controversial came up, and I froze. I thought I was prepared for tough moments, but I just shut down. I feel like I totally failed myself and my child, too. We do need to talk about hard things!

Can you help me figure out why I shut down, and what to do about it? I’m so worried about screwing up next time—if there is one!

Screwed up, Upset, Worried and Regretful

_________________

Dear Worried and Regretful,

It sounds like you are really disappointed you couldn’t make more of your opportunity with your child. I get it. But I want to point out that we don’t always do so well when the stakes are high. And after that, we may not do so well with ourselves—contending with with the fear, disappointment, and shame that follow.

I want to look at shame and the freeze response in this column because I think those responses pervade estrangement. Shame is such a powerful human emotion. There are times it may serve us, and times we are entirely at the mercy of it.

What is Shame?

Shame can be our response to feeling disappointed in ourselves. We wish we had done better—that we somehow had the capacity that we couldn’t muster.

The well-known psychoanalyst Erik Erikson identified the developmental phase “Autonomy vs. Shame and Doubt.” As we try to do new, hard things (autonomy), we run into shame, since doing new things risks our sense of security. We can wind up with emotional skinned knees—or, in your case, a skinned heart. (I made that up, but if we could skin our hearts like we skin our knees, that is sort of what it feels like.)

When we make mistakes, old memories and feelings can flood us. Our parents were disappointed in us: when we were little, they were big, and they held the power. Their disappointment became a part of how we think about ourselves, and it resurfaces when we feel we’ve stumbled. Like little kids, we wish we could magically undo what we are sure we screwed up, and wind up feeling regretful, self-flagellating.

Why We Freeze

When the stakes are too high, we don’t just feel shame—we can become immobilized.

To understand why we shut down, we have to look past the story in our minds—I failed, I lost my words—and look at what is happening inside our bodies. When you navigate estrangement, your nervous system often lives in hyper-vigilance. Even during a warm visit, your more primitive brain—your amygdala—is scanning for current evidence of past pain, viewing the potential loss of connection as a lurking threat.

When a controversial topic drops into the conversation:

1. Your Thinking Brain Clicks Off: Your amygdala fires a distress signal that bypasses your prefrontal cortex. Executive functioning drops, which is why you literally lose access to your words.

2. Your Alarm Chemistry Surges: Adrenaline and cortisol flood your system, quickening your heart rate and shortening your breathing to your upper chest.

3. Your Emergency Freeze Circuit Breaker Clicks on: Because you don’t want to run away from nor fight your child, your nervous system resorts to its most ancient defense: immobilization. Your freeze response drops a thick curtain to protect your heart from an impact it fears you won’t survive.

When you shut down, you aren’t crumbling out of weakness. Your body is stepping in with a protective shield, hitting an emergency stop button because it believes staying engaged might cost you the connection entirely.

A Compassionate Game Plan for the Next Conversation

1. Shift from “Fixing” to “Regulating” in the Moment When you feel the freeze starting—whether it’s a tightening throat, a blank mind, or a heavy chest—do not try to force words out. You cannot logic your way out of a nervous system shutdown.

• Anchor: Ground yourself physically. Feel your feet on the floor or press your thumb firmly into your index finger.

• Pause: Give yourself permission to step back without drama. You can say, “This is really important to me, and I want to give it the focus it deserves, but I’m finding my mind going blank right now. Can we take a five-minute pause to breathe?”

2. Debrief with Self-Compassion, Not Autopsy An autopsy picks apart every mistake; a debrief gathers data. Rather than replaying the moment to beat yourself up, when you can, look at it objectively: Ah, my nervous system hit its threshold right there. That was my limit for that moment. Acknowledge the courage it took to be in the conversation and have the visit go well overall.

3. Reconnect and Repair (If Needed) If the shutdown left an awkward silence or an abrupt end to the conversation, you don’t need to write a long, defensive letter. A short, low-pressure text can bridge the gap without making a mountain out of a molehill:

“It was so wonderful spending time together. I know our conversation got a little heavy at the end and I got quiet—thank you for your patience while I process things. I’m really glad we’re in each other’s lives.”

Immediate Next Steps

• Map Your Thresholds: Take a few minutes to write down what physical sensations (e.g., shallow breathing, cold hands) showed up just before you froze, so you can catch the wave earlier next time.

• Draft a “Safety Phrase”: Memorize a single, gentle sentence or two you can say out loud the next time you feel overwhelmed, so you don’t have to think of what to say under pressure. Something like: “This is a really important topic. I want to talk about it, but I’d like a minute to slow myself down first.”

___________________________

So, Dear Worried and Regretful,

You are accompanied by many others in estranged relationships, who wanted things to go well when they were with their loved ones and got worried about how the time together actually went.

It may take some time to recover and for your regret to abate, but, when you can, be kind and loving with yourself. You are doing the best you can. You would like the space to try again, and that, within human relationships is not only possible, but necessary.

Best,

Kathy

Please reach out to me in the Chat, Comments Section or at ksinsheimermft@gmail.com

This is column #60

The Butterfly Tap: A Gentle Self-Soothing Exercise

When emotional intensity or grief feels overwhelming, the nervous system often benefits from gentle, rhythmic, bilateral (side-to-side) input. This simple movement helps anchor your awareness back into your body, offering a quiet sense of containment without demanding difficult feelings to surface.

Step 1: Find a Comfortable Position

• Sit upright with your feet resting flat on the floor, or stand comfortably if you prefer.

• Let your shoulders drop away from your ears, and allow your jaw to soften.

Step 2: Cross Your Hands Over Your Chest

• Bring your hands up toward your chest and cross your arms over your heart, so that your right hand rests on your left upper arm or shoulder, and your left hand rests on your right upper arm or shoulder.

• Your fingertips will naturally point toward your neck or collarbone, resembling the soft wings of a butterfly resting against your chest.

Step 3: Begin Alternate, Gentle Tapping

• Alternating sides, begin to tap your hands or fingers softly against your shoulders or upper arms—left, then right, then left, then right.

• Keep the pace slow, steady, and very gentle, like the slow beating of a butterfly’s wings. Think of it as a quiet, reassuring rhythm.

Step 4: Pair with the Breath

• As you continue the slow, alternating taps, let your breathing find an easy, natural rhythm.

• You don’t need to force deep breaths. Just notice the air moving gently in and out, and let each tap remind you that you are right here in the present moment.

Step 5: Pause, Rest, and Repeat (2 to 3 Cycles)

• Continue tapping for about 20 to 30 seconds.

• Lower your hands back down to your lap or sides, take a quiet breath, and notice any subtle shifts—such as a spontaneous sigh, a deeper breath, or a slight softening in your chest.

• When you feel ready, bring your hands back to your shoulders and repeat this gentle cycle 2 to 3 times total.

Note: You are always in control. If tapping feels too fast or distracting at any point, you can simply stop, rest your hands still against your chest, and just breathe.

It’s good to even start thinking about somatic work in estrangement. You may need to think about these exercises for awhile before you try them. My hope is that one day you try one, and you are glad you did.

Please let me know if you tried this exercise, and what you thought.

Best,

Kathy

You can contact me through the Chat, the Comments, or email me: ksinsheimermft@gmail.com

This is the 9th in Dear Estranged’s Somatic Exercise Series

We visited our daughter this weekend. We are older parents, so our daughter is 40 years younger than we are. That’s a time for a lot of cultural change! Her generation, and her choice of peers, are tattooed, pierced, re-gendered, creative, industrious in ways we wouldn’t have imagined, and to our minds and eyes, very unconventional. We are very proud of who she has become as a adult, and still trying to “grok” it.

We have had a rough patch with her for a couple of years, where I would say we were low contact. It’s been hard to understand why (I know this isn’t unusual). We took the path of being more accepting than anything. We do our best to bear the distance and generational differences. I am not trying to say we are great at it. Since she stopped coming to see us, we go to see her.

As I ride the plane back to our home, the home where she grew up, I wonder how much the generational differences contribute to estrangement.

Do you have any thoughts on that?

Loving, Missing, Missing, and More than a Bit Lost,

_______________

Dear Loving, Missing and Lost,

The generational divide can be huge, depending on how far your child may want to go into their generational culture. (And is it a counterculture just like ours was?) I think that marking your body with significant tattoos, altering your body and gender, finding unconventional ways to support yourself—these are all expressions of wanting something different than what our children saw us do. And I know I felt this way too when I was in my twenties and early thirties. There are articles on why Gen X and Z are expressing their lives in these ways, but they say less about your question—does this much difference in life style make it hard to remain connected? I think the answer is yes.

We know that it is taking longer to grow up than previously—so much so that the twenties are now widely considered the new teens. Assuming your child has normal developmental needs for separation and individuation, we are looking at a somewhat newly recognized phase known as “emerging adulthood” (ages 18 to 29), coined by psychologist Jeffrey Arnett. Driven by profound economic, technological, and cultural shifts, this extended period has delayed traditional milestones like marriage and stable careers.

Rather than a “failure to launch,” this phase functions as a psychological bridge—a high-stakes laboratory for intensive identity exploration in love and work. During this decade, young adults are slowly tackling Arnett’s “Big Three” developmental steps: accepting responsibility for oneself, making independent decisions, and ultimately becoming financially independent.

In addition to extended years of development and individuation, these generations were much younger, and in more formative years, than parents were during the pandemic. I have heard one Gen Z say that before Covid she wanted to have a child. During Covid, and seemingly since, she found it was difficult to even take care of herself. Period. Let alone a child.

When you were younger you felt you could have a child, even though it may have been challenging (you don’t say). See if you can imagine life being SO challenging that taking care of yourself—earning a living, taking care of your body, making friends and romantic partners—was overwhelming. That you couldn’t imagine you could care for a child, even if you still wanted to. To me, that means that life got harder. And I believe it did.

So, is it possible that your adult child has gone low contact for many reasons, some of them generational? That her generation is so distant from yours, and she has such a profound need to identify with it, that she has needed space?

And what about you? What’s it been like to make space for how different she is from you (I am imagining)? Have you had reactions you regretted? Has it been difficult that your daughter has marked and/or pierced or modified her body? And whether or not she said anything, could she know this? Could the piercing and tattooing have been part of her separation/individuation that was hard for you to accept? (And was that possibly part of the point?)

If any of this rings true for you, here are some possibly helpful ideas:

• Accept and care for your grief: Loving a child who needs low contact asks a lot of you. It requires grieving the relationship you thought you’d have in this season so you can make room for the one you actually have, holding them in your heart and mind even from a distance.

• Ask yourself what you wish you had done differently as a young adult. Even if you are glad you made the choices you did, you may have had some other wishes and desires along the way. Do you look back and wish you had done anything more radical?

• Try the thought experiment of imagining getting a tattoo or a new, less conventional pierce. I don’t mean you need to go out and do it—I mean just try to imagine it. What comes to mind? Notice your thoughts and see if it helps you understand what your child may be trying to express within themselves, and possibly to you.

• Consider why your child needed to move away. Was the physical difference a need to claim herself for herself? Could that have been a challenge that required some miles between you? Does she hang out with a like-minded group of people? And does that seem to help her “adult” (to use a phrase we know from her generation)? Does the distance from you help her feel more separate and freer to claim her own self-expression, her own life? And can you feel proud when you see how she has grown and the young adult she has become?

Does she, in fact, express your values, just in a slightly different mode? Is she working hard, which you taught her to do, is she using her creativity, her intelligence, her personality, just as you hoped she would? Is it just different enough from what you expected that it takes you a minute to recognize how she is, in fact, reflecting your values back to you, just in a package that takes a moment to recognize?

So, I am suggesting you take a step back, look at her as independently as is possible for a parent who held their child’s hand when they were learning to walk (not always easy!). Would anyone who was not her parent be impressed with who she has become? See if you can adopt that mindset, use those lenses, and appreciate the adult she is inventing herself to be.

I support your success in connecting with your child. And for loving them as they are, admiring who they are becoming, and remaining in a loving relationship.

Best,

Kathy

Please reach out to me in the Chat, Comments Section or at ksinsheimermft@gmail.com

This is column #59

Walk, Breathe, Let Go

1. Notice your movement

When you are walking, notice your arms swinging naturally by your sides. You don’t need to change how you’re moving. Just let your arms move naturally.

2. Let your emotional weight release a little

Now, bring a gentle awareness to your breath. With your next inhale, take a normal, easy breath in... and as you exhale, imagine letting go of a little of the heaviness you are carrying.

-Let the weight flow out of the tips of your fingers as your arms swing.

-When your feet strike the ground, notice the weight and let a little flow out in that strike.

3. Repeat the cycle, letting go a little each time

• Breathe in...

• Breathing out, letting your arms swing and your feet meet the pavement.

4. Take one final soft breath

One more time. Inhaling easily... and exhaling, letting your arms and shoulders soften just a little bit more.

You don’t have to carry it all right this second. Just let the ground catch you, one step at a time.”

Just a Reminder

I was told that it’s good to even start thinking about somatic work in estrangement. You may need to think about these exercises for awhile before you try them. My hope is that one day you try one, and you are glad you did.

Please let me know if you tried this exercise, and what you thought.

Best,

Kathy

You can contact me through the Chat, the Comments, or email me: ksinsheimermft@gmail.com

This is the 8th in Dear Estranged’s Somatic Exercise Series

My relationships are falling apart. Three years ago, my husband decided he didn’t want to be married any more. Last year my friend estranged me. This year, my sibling is threatening to do the same. WHAT IS HAPPENING to preserving our closeness? Why don’t we need each other and want to talk and fight it out? What is affecting our values and wanting to be valued?

Lonely, Mad and Sad

______________________

Dear Lonely, Mad and Sad,

You must be scared of what’s coming next!

What you write about is a worrisome cultural phenomenon of people giving up on relationships with each other. Sherry Turkle speaks of our being “deskilled” at human relationships. I do think that is part of what you are experiencing—your family members and friend have resigned from trying to work things out. It is more and more common that people are walking away from each other.

Today, I want to write about a related piece of the puzzle: how changing the rules is leading to a new form of relationship disruption. We’ve changed our guideposts for whether or not we want to be in relationships with our families, with our partners, with our friends. The rules in the drawing below are being dismissed as unhelpful and unhealthy. But perhaps there were ways they did help.

I respect any generation’s right to question the values of the previous generation. (Mine certainly did!) That questioning is supposed to bring about liberating change, and I know I felt my generation’s did just that. But not always.

With relationship norms in flux, and a multitude of choices available—ranging from polyamory and AI partners to blended family iterations—things can get complicated! A friend we will call Sam learned his girlfriend (we’ll call her Sue) wasn’t sure if she really wanted a partner. They had been dating for 3 years and were at a level in their relationship where they vacationed together and were thinking of moving in. Then another alternative popped up: the girlfriend’s previous partner reappeared. It slowly emerged that she might want to try polyamory, or alternatively, to step away from traditional partnering altogether. These are all valid lifestyle options, but I suspect they sometimes act as an escape hatch, bypassing the work that might be done to figure things out in Sam and Sue’s relationship. Were Sam and Sue having trouble continuing because they were struggling to communicate? Did they lack the tools for “healthy heat” (productive fighting)? Did the polyamory option look like a solution when the core problem had been misidentified? Would “re-skilling” in human relationships help?

Let’s go through the list:

Honoring your parents: Does this mean blindly? It may have at one time. Can it mean something else? To remain in contact while respecting your own needs? When estrangement is necessary, there are times it should be exercised. But choosing to work on rough spots in your relationship appears to be a fading art.

Caring for your siblings: Sibling estrangement is also an increasing phenomenon. It can be rough to care for a difficult brother or sister, or to be close when you have differing views, but it might be possible to unpack old rivalries and alignments to find the common ground lying beneath them!

Honoring your partner (and partnership): Being partnered is an extremely complicated undertaking. It takes goodwill, maturity, cooperation, patience, and communication. Even then, there are rough spots! There are many modern configurations in partnering these days. I am not condoning one over another, but I do think the abundance of alternatives can be confusing and lead us to believe that we chose the wrong path rather than recognizing we could learn more about the art of partnering (to borrow part of Priya Parker’s phrase).

Loving your neighbor: I see both love and hate in daily life, and some of us respond to the strains of being human through these extremes. In recent political years, there has been a degrading of respect for difference that fuels increased hostility. I bring this back to our lack of understanding of our own self-hatred. Unresolved self-hatred is difficult to bear, and we often wind up disliking others for things we cannot accept in ourselves. Looking inward with compassion could be deeply helpful here.

Family comes first: Family can be a burden, but it can also be your foundation. Sometimes it’s both. Abandoning family can occasionally be like throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Consider the possibility that you can acknowledge both the strengths and weaknesses in your family system and still choose to remain involved.

What helps?

• Identify the problems you or others are trying to solve by changing the rules.

• Sort out what is genuinely needed to address them.

• Explore targeted solutions such as:

  • Improving communication

  • Refining conflict resolution

  • Reorganizing priorities

  • Reshuffling and balancing responsibilities

  • Reclaiming your individuality within your relationship

• Chart a path toward making the changes you are looking for. Does it involve shifting habits and practices in your relationships? Very likely! How much it involves altering larger parameters—like going “no contact” or opening your relationship—can be better understood after you have tried to address the underlying dynamics that aren’t working.

____________

So, Dear Lonely, Mad and Sad,

You are right that human relationships are shifting. We are acting as if we no longer need each other as much, and that a shared sense of belonging and relating matters less. This declining desire to connect and sustain is indeed worrisome. Thank you for sharing, and best wishes for renewing your connections with loved ones.

Best,

Kathy

Please reach out to me in the Chat, Comments Section or at ksinsheimermft@gmail.com

This is column #58

When your day has been too much and you want to catch your breath, this method of alternate nostril breathing may help you do a simple re-boot. Estrangement, and just daily life, can be very wearing. This breathing is safe and subtle enough to do many places—for example in line at the grocery store. Practice at home first, and then quietly try it when one of your hands is free.

How to Practice Alternate Nostril Breathing (Slow & Steady)

1. Find a Comfortable Seat: Sit tall and comfortably, either cross-legged on the floor or with both feet flat on the ground in a chair. Rest your left hand softly on your lap.

2. The Hand Position (Vishnu Mudra): Lift your right hand toward your nose. Fold your index and middle fingers down toward your palm, keeping your thumb, ring finger, and pinky extended. (This is the classic position, and it is elegant, but I have also found I can use my thumb and forefinger!)

   • Your thumb will control your right nostril.

   • Your ring finger (and/or pinky) will control your left nostril.

3. Begin with a Full Exhale: Take a deep breath in through both nostrils, and let it go completely with a slow, smooth exhale.

4. The Cycle:

   • Close your right nostril gently with your thumb.

   • Inhale slowly and quietly through your left nostril.

   • Switch: Close your left nostril with your ring finger, release your thumb, and exhale slowly through your right nostril.

   • Inhale slowly through that same side (right nostril).

   • Switch: Close your right nostril with your thumb, release your ring finger, and exhale slowly through your left nostril.

5. The Rhythm: That complete back-and-forth makes up one full round.

6. To Close: Always finish your final cycle by exhaling through your left nostril. Lower your hand and take a few normal, effortless breaths before opening your eyes.

A Few Tips for Keeping it Slow and Soothing:

• Keep it effortless: No need to use force, strain, or gasping—aim for the opposite!. Your breath can be soft, smooth, and quiet—like a gentle whisper or silk sliding through your nose and nasal passages.

• No breath-holding needed—normal breathing helps: For a calming somatic practice, skip any intense breath-retaining holds; just let the inhale flow seamlessly into the exhale.

• Start small: 5 to 10 slow rounds (about 3 to 5 minutes) signals safety to your vagus nerve and shifts your body out of fight-or-flight.

Please let me know how this exercise was useful, or if it wasn’t! I want to learn from you what you find most helpful. Estrangement drains us in every way possible. Slowing down and easing the strain can help us get through the rougher patches.

Best,

Kathy

You can contact me through the Chat, the Comments, or email me: ksinsheimermft@gmail.com

This is the 7th in Dear Estranged’s Somatic Exercise Series

My mom doesn’t understand why we are somewhat estranged. Here’s why: When I realized I was very depressed, I tried to tell my mom about it. I wanted her support—I thought I really needed it. She was having her own problems and seemed to brush mine away. Could she really not see my need enough to be concerned about me and take care of me a little bit? And if not, why not? It was devastating then, and is still now when I think about it. Why can’t she understand why I need to take space from her?

Still Hurt, Somewhat Estranged and Confused

Dear Hurt and Confused,

It must have been devastating to realize you were very depressed, and then to feel your mother couldn’t make emotional space for you. Even though she had other things on her mind, you really hoped she would reach for you, and she didn’t. I wonder if this echoed other times in your life together that your mom couldn’t support you. And also, I wonder if sometimes she could and sometimes she couldn’t, which is very confusing to a child (and even to grownups). I will say more about this at another time, but when a parent is only available some of the time, it can lead to a child doubling their efforts to get their parent’s attention, hoping that extra effort on the child’s part will catch the parent’s eye.

Let’s get back to the adult you. Your mother couldn’t hear you, at least in part because she was preoccupied. But beyond individual preoccupation, listening problems are rampant in modern society. We may never have been very good at listening to each other, but we currently are challenged even to pay attention to each other. We have multiple devices, apps, and threads calling for our attention all the time. We text instead of talking live; we ghost when we don’t know how to solve a problem between us. I think that one reason for the amount of “cut off” in modern culture is that we don’t know how to listen to and talk to each other, and we can easily distract ourselves to make the problem seem to go away.

Some Causes of Listening Problems:

• Preoccupation with problems and with yourself

• Poor Listening Skills (including too much referencing of your own experience)

• Trouble hearing things about you that are negative or critical

• Trouble putting yourself in someone else’s shoes, even someone you love

** Several of these topics deserve their own column, and I plan to write them!

Here are Some Contributing Factors:

• Not having learned to see another person’s perspective: Not all homes offer the opportunity to learn to appreciate how another person feels. Learning to truly see someone else’s perspective isn’t something we are simply born knowing; it’s a learned skill. If you were fortunate, your childhood home—or opportunities like a youth group, church circle, or sports team—acted as an emotional laboratory where a trusted adult gently modeled how to step into someone else’s shoes. In those moments, you learned that differing viewpoints didn’t mean the relationship was breaking. If you didn’t grow up with that kind of modeling, you may struggle to listen as a adult. Many households taught us that conflict equals danger, so our nervous systems learned to armor up rather than open up. You can still begin building this skill, understanding that compassion for yourself in the learning process is not only key, but also good practice.

• Splintered Attention: With our lives tethered to smartphones and screens, we live in an environment of constant pings, notifications, and background digital chatter. Constantly multitasking leaves our brains exhausted by a phenomenon called “switch cost.” Even when a device is silent, the mere awareness that a message might be waiting creates a low-grade distraction. This trains us into a state of “partial attention”—where we are physically in the room with someone, but our cognitive bandwidth is perpetually tuned elsewhere, making it mentally difficult to lock onto a continuous stream of spoken information.

• The Urge to Fix or Fixate on Discomfort: When a loved one shares something heavy or painful, it creates immediate emotional discomfort for the listener. Instead of sitting quietly to hear the full story, the modern impulse is to rush in and fix it, offer instant advice, or silver-line the problem just to make the unpleasant feeling go away. If what our loved one is telling us includes information about us, we may become uncomfortable. Learning to say “thank you for the feedback”, and meaning it, is challenging and also an important skill to build.

• Emotional Reactivity and Defensiveness: Modern life is deeply stressful, leaving many of us with frayed nerves and a hyper-sensitive nervous system. When someone brings up a critique, a differing viewpoint, or emotional friction, we can feel threatened. That triggers a fight-or-flight response, flooding the body with stress hormones—we may armor up rather than truly listen.

• The “Closeness-Communication Bias” (Assuming We Already Know): Ironically, we struggle to listen best to the people closest to us—our partners, children, and siblings. Because we know them so well, we fall into a cognitive trap where we assume we already know what they are going to say before they finish a sentence. This reduces genuine curiosity and makes us stop listening halfway through, replacing their actual words with our own assumptions.

• Entertainment and Media Conditioning for Fast Pacing: The media we consume—from short-form video algorithms and jump cuts to hyper-fast TV editing—has trained our brains to expect rapid-fire stimulation. When real-world human conversation features natural pauses, hesitation, processing time, or a slow and winding emotional explanation, it can feel agonizingly “slow” to a modern, over-stimulated brain, causing us to mentally check due to our shortened attention spans.

How Can We Bear Knowing We Are Flawed?

Of course, defensiveness often gets in the way of listening, making the "ouch" of feedback hard to bear. We’ll dive deeper into why we get so defensive in an upcoming column. But in the meantime, if you find yourself in an emotional conversation, do what you can to slow yourself down. If you have a moment beforehand, take a few slow, steady breaths. If you're caught by surprise, slow your breathing right then and there, or simply pause and ask, "Give me a minute to center myself." (Or use whatever phrasing feels natural to you.)

How Can We Listen Better?

When I was in graduate school, I took a course in what was then called “Active Listening”. Yes, it was for therapists, but it has helped in all of my relationships. (Or, as my colleague said, it was helping with the problems she was having with her husband.) We don’t know how to listen well to each other, so taking a course and watching videos on the topic might be helpful. Here are some terms you could use to search for both:

• “How to listen to a loved one”

• “Communication skills for families”

• “Family communication active listening skills course”

You will not be surprised that I ask you to be compassionate with yourself and others in this learning process. This means offering grace to both yourself and others. Listening is a hard skill to learn, taking time, patience, and practice. Being compassionate will help you navigate the awkwardness, failure, and uncomfortable learning curve.

Practice with your safest loved ones first, then branch out to more challenging relationships.

And don't forget your sense of humor. Listening is hard, and being able to laugh at ourselves is sometimes the best bridge we can build.

_______________________________

So, Dear Hurt and Confused,

Your difficulty with your mother is understandably deeply painful. If it feels safe enough, I encourage you to let her know that you would like her to learn to listen better and make space to hear you. You could even give her this column, if you think it would help!

My hope is that you find the love and support you need and deserve.

Best,

Kathy

Please reach out to me in the Chat, Comments Section or at ksinsheimermft@gmail.com

This is column #57

I have learned that, in estrangement, people often become so overwhelmed with feeling that even simple movements can feel triggering. These exercises are offered with that in mind. They are meant to help with the intensity without amplifying the difficult feelings you are already having.

The Slow Down Pause

This practice is designed to help your nervous system gently shift out of high alert. Because everyone’s body responds differently, please remember that every instruction here is an invitation, not a rule. You are in complete control of how far you go, or whether you choose to participate at all.

1. Setting the Foundation

• Find a comfortable place to sit: Let your feet rest flat on the floor, feeling the support beneath you, and let your spine rest comfortably against your seat.

• Choose a gentle hand placement:

  • Option A (Neutral): Let your hands rest softly, palms down, on your thighs.

  • Option B (Self-Soothing): Cross your arms loosely, resting your hands gently on your opposite upper arms or shoulders—only if that feels comforting and safe.

• Arrive in the room: Allow your eyes to close gently, or let your gaze rest softly downward on the floor a few feet in front of you.

2. Establishing a Steady Rhythm

Before moving your eyes, let’s invite a steady, easy rhythm to the breath.

• Inhale gently through your nose as you count: 1, 2, 3, 4

• Exhale smoothly through your nose or mouth as you count: 1, 2, 3, 4 (Note: If counting feels like too much effort right now, simply let your breath flow at its own natural, easy pace).

• Repeat this steady cycle 3 times, letting your shoulders drop just a fraction more with each breath out.

3. The Gentle Gaze

• Open your eyes softly and keep your head completely still.

• Choose your direction: Let your gaze drift either upward (slightly higher than your normal line of sight, toward a wall or the lower part of the ceiling) OR to the side (to the left or right, whichever feels easier).

• Keep it soft: Look toward that area, but let your focus be very soft and diffused. You don’t need to stare or strain. Think of it more like noticing the space rather than locking onto a target.

• Breathe as you gaze: While keeping your eyes in that gentle position, take 4 or 5 slow, steady breaths (matching an equal count, or simply following your natural breath).

• Note: If your eyes water, feel strained, or if your mind feels overwhelmed, please lower your eyes immediately. There is no need to push through discomfort.

4. Returning and Resting

• Gently lower your eyes back down to a comfortable, neutral resting place.

• Take 3 more slow, soothing breaths.

• Notice without judgment: As you breathe, simply notice whatever happens in your body. You might feel a sudden urge to sigh, a deep swallow, a yawn, or a slight softening in your neck and chest. These are gentle signs that your nervous system is processing and settling.

When you feel ready, you can let your breathing return to its normal rhythm, gently moving your fingers or toes to bring yourself back to the present moment.

_______________________

Please let me know how this exercise was useful, or if it wasn’t! I want to learn from you what you find most helpful. Estrangement drains us in every way possible. Slowing down and easing the strain can help us get through the rougher patches.

Best,

Kathy

You can contact me through the Chat, the Comments, or email me: ksinsheimermft@gmail.com

My sister and I got angry with each other at her daughter’s graduation (this June). I thought she should have saved us seats, and she thought we should have come early and grabbed our own seats. We wound up having to sit in the back. In our family, we have what I am learning is a terrible habit when we are upset: we give the Silent Treatment. This is probably never good, but ours goes on for a long time. We need to learn something new, for sure. But, for now, she and I are stuck, and it’s almost October. We aren’t talking. What do you recommend?”

Upset, Lonely and Still a Little Mad

Dear Upset,

Growing up with the Silent Treatment did not give you and your sister a lot of options for what to say or do when you are angry. Ways you express anger are passed down in families, so it is not surprising that you are practicing what you learned. You feel this isn’t working for you, and that sounds spot on. But you don’t have other options at hand because you didn’t learn them growing up.

What Happens in the Silent Treatment?

Initially, the Silent Treatment gives us a cooling off period, and that can be helpful since we don’t continue to lob emotional grenades at each other. However, when we get frozen in the Silent Treatment, we often can’t find our way out. And, when we do thaw a little, sometimes all we can muster is an apology. Not a bad start, and certainly warms things up, but doesn’t offer dialogue that helps us understand each other, or prepare for future conflicts.

I think we can get stuck in our silences. It starts with a fight or flight response, and I think enacts both in turn. First we fight, and then we flee each other. Eventually, the fleeing, no longer really needed, becomes a freeze we don’t know how to thaw.

When your family member gives you the silent treatment, you can begin to feel disrespected, lonely, accused, and increasingly desperate. When will this be over? When can I feel loving feelings again with my mother/sister/child/friend? How long will this go on? Will we ever get out of the deep freeze?

We sometimes mistake the silent treatment as a communication. “I disapprove of you or your actions” or “I reject or condemn you”. This is how our feelings get hurt and makes it harder for us to overcome the barriers to reconnecting.

I heard of two sisters who got so angry and for such a prolonged period of time that they named it a “Mad Do”. They recognized this was what they did to one another but did not know how to get out of it, at least for quite a while.

The Biological Sting of the Silent Treatment

Why does a silent standoff hurt so deeply and drag on for months? The answer lies inside our nervous system. Brain scans show that social rejection and being “iced out” light up the exact same pain pathways in the brain as a physical injury. To our bodies, being shut out isn’t just an emotional disappointment, it registers as a literal, physical blow.

Because a silent standoff leaves things unresolved, your brain can treat it like an active emergency. It keeps your internal alarm system on alert. Your body can course with stress hormones, trapping you in a loop of tension. That is why time can get distorted during a long estrangement: months can pass, but your nervous system may remain stuck reacting as though the initial fight happened just yesterday. Or easily flare up again if you think about what happened.

Of Course We Get Frustrated with Each Other

Since we are all individuals, we will inevitably have different takes on things, and wind up not agreeing—even in conflict. I think it helps to make this assumption. We can’t avoid conflict, because that’s impossible. Yes, being flexible, understanding and forgiving go a long way, but closeness also requires what Priya Parker calls “Healthy Heat.”

If you grew up in a family where tension was handled by slamming doors or freezing people out, the idea of tolerating friction can sound abstract or terrifying. To make it more concrete, Priya Parker explains it this way:

“When conflict arises, we tend to take one of two stances. We either avoid and duck and hope it’ll pass, or we escalate and burn the house down. And yet so much of human relevance, connection, and the conversations that need to happen are actually in the in-between place, which is what I call healthy heat.” — Priya Parker

Instead of choosing between an explosion followed by an ice age, healthy heat is the willingness to stay in the room—to feel uncomfortable and messy without needing to sever the connection or win the argument.

In healthy heat, we aim to struggle more productively, because we have this as a goal. We are striving to learn to accept conflict and improve in our ways of pursuing understanding when we are frustrated with each other.

How to Emerge from the Silent Treatment

For Yourself:

• Acknowledge the learning curve: Realize you are choosing to do something different from what your family has always done. That means this won’t be easy and that you and your sister are not prepared for it. You know how to do the silent treatment. You don’t know how to talk with each other. Be easy on yourself since doing something this new and hard will make you feel awkward at minimum and terrified at the maximum.

• Lean on your support network: Do things you know to do for yourself when you are planning to do something hard and brave. Talk with loving others—friends, your religious leader if you have one, your support group—to get ideas of how to approach your sister in this new way.

• Prioritize self-care: Make sure your self-care is in place. In particular, check in: are you rested, fed, exercised—ready in any particular way you prepare for tough moments?

• Think about your approach: Give yourself some time to plan how you want to approach your loved one before you do it. Preparing should give you some solid ground to stand on.

For the Two of You:

• Float the idea gently: Ask your loved one if they could join you in trying to have a productive, thawing conversation. Float this idea before proceeding.

• Name the awkwardness: Let them know you two haven’t done this before and may not be very good at it, but you hope you can begin to approach these kinds of problems between the two of you differently.

• Drop the old weapons: Acknowledge that you have said and done hurtful things in this process and that your plan is to not “go there” as you try to thaw this together.

• Validate feelings without accusing: Acknowledge that you still have hurt feelings, and that you may want to talk about those, not in an accusatory way, but so that you both can see and acknowledge each other’s hurt.

• Set a reliable rhythm: See if, together, you can identify small things, at first, that would help. A pair of siblings had tried to begin to reconnect following a period of the silent treatment by trying to reach each other on the phone. This system failed because they kept missing each other, and the missing without a returned call actually made them feel worse. Neither one felt secure enough to leave a message. What they figured out was they needed an agreed-upon time to talk. When they worked that out, they decided to continue to plan to talk at that time, and not to just “catch” each other. This meant they talked once a week, and were reassured by knowing the other would be there, wanting to talk, too.

• Expect discomfort: Be prepared to accept a different perspective and the sting you may feel hearing how you have been experienced by your loved one. Leave time and space for yourself after your conversation to go on a walk or other calming experience you know works for you.

• Keep the momentum going: Plan to talk again before too long, so things don’t freeze up, and the conversation keeps moving toward greater repair and connection.

After You Talk Together:

• Soothe your nervous system: Use one of the calming exercises I have been posting weekly in my column. These are meant to be simple, quick, and to calm your nervous system.

• De-brief with a friend: Ask a trusted friend to be available afterward by phone or even for a walk for a de-brief.

• Do something you know you are good at: Remind yourself that the awkwardness of trying something new is awkward and hard, but there are other ways you are amazingly competent!

___________________________

So, Dear Upset,

I am recommending you try something hard—approaching your loved one can be painful, as can trying to talk with each other in a new way. I think you will feel better for trying to do something different, and that, if you can be compassionate and patient, you may find new ways to approach each other.

I wish you the best in warming the coldness between the two of you and finding your way back to your loving connection.

Best,

Kathy

Please reach out to me in the Chat, Comments Section or at ksinsheimermft@gmail.com

This is column #56

Palm Trace Breath

Best for: Discretionary use in public, work, or school during panic. Movement level: Fingertip tracing on skin.

Time: 60–90 seconds.

How to do it:

1. Open one hand, palm-up.

2. Use the index finger of your other hand to slowly trace up the outside of your thumb as you inhale.

3. Trace down the inside of your thumb as you exhale.

4. Continue tracing each finger (up = inhale, down = exhale) across your whole hand.

Why it works: Combines tactile sensory feedback with a predictable pacing loop to anchor attention in the present.

Please let me and others know if this somatic practice helped you. And share other practices that slow and calm you in the Chat or Comments Section.

Best,

Kathy

This is the 5th in Dear Estranged’s Somatic Exercise Series

When I was little, I had a security blanket. I carried it everywhere--it even got dirty and smelly, and I didn’t care. (I think my mother did, but I remember that, for me, even the smell was reassuring). Why do these help a child so much? It helped me feel safe in the world--I even took it with me to kindergarten to help me go to that big, new school. Is there anything like that I could use now to feel less upset in my estrangement? I feel just as lost as I did then.

Lost, Scared, and Wishing for Security

Dear Lost, Scared and Wishing,

That blanket held so much for you! It represented the security of home, your caregiver’s lap, your safe space. Carrying it with you helped you move out into the world feeling more secure. Eventually, we leave our security blankets/stuffed animals/special objects behind and feel more secure inside us. This is a process that takes time, effort, and learning. The British psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott named our special security possessions “Transitional Objects”, as they helped us transition from our homes out into the world.

“A security object gives our nervous system a physical bridge to hold onto when we have to step out into an uncertain world alone.”

We all function better in our lives, in the world, when we are feeling secure. When we are centered enough to think, act, be effective. Estrangement challenges our center, our sense of effectiveness, so we would benefit from re-finding our security blanket and holding it close.

Where is the reassurance of that special object now, as you feel buffeted by the Rough Waters in estrangement and want to feel safe again? What are some of those tough feelings you are trying to navigate? Shame, Hurt, Longing, Insecurity, Loss?

Some Parts of Feeling Lost, Ashamed, and Upset That Make It Harder:

• For so many years of your life, your relationship with your estranged loved one was part of who you knew yourself to be. Without that relationship, you feel a hole in yourself—even in who you are. I am my child’s mother; I am my bestie’s friend; I am father’s child. Our identity grounds us. Without those important connections, we can feel unmoored.

• You don’t know what to do with your hurt. You feel upset with the person who estranged you, yet you still feel drawn back to them. This is a real push-me-pull-you situation. It can be dizzying, leaving you feeling disoriented and insecure.

• You want to ground yourself, but you can’t find the resources to do that. When you are disoriented, it’s hard to find “North,” or grounding, or a helpful direction.

• You feel shame, leaving you feeling like you don’t deserve care. So you withhold comforting yourself. Then, you feel stranded and uncared for—painfully doubly abandoned.

Where Does a Secure Feeling Come From for an Adult?

• If you had a security object as a child, something similar may be helpful. In one household, where the adult had a security blanket as a child, she cut a small piece of similar-feeling blanket to carry in her pocket. Another family member liked this idea, and placed a small blanket piece in her pocket, too. Since the texture is part of what helps with feeling secure, rubbing the blanket piece in their pockets helps them relax.

• This isn’t just a childhood phenomenon—many of us carry these attachments for life. (I still have the teddy bear I got during my tonsillectomy at age 3!) Adults quietly keep their childhood security animals tucked away, pulling them out for sleep and comfort during difficult times.

• Adults can find ways to anchor themselves when the emotional pain flares up. For instance, one client uses a heart-shaped hot water bottle on her upper chest—right over her heart—for weight and warmth when her heart hurts. Another adult relies on a whale-shaped weighted stuffie, placing it on her body to provide grounding pressure when her thoughts start racing.

• There are adult security objects that you might find helpful. Here are a few ways to reclaim that comfort now, without shame:

  • Therapeutic Weighted Plushies: The modern equivalent of a heavy childhood quilt or a comforting animal. Resting a weighted stuffed animal against your sternum provides deep pressure stimulation, which helps slow a racing heart and signals your vagus nerve that the crisis has passed.

  • Comforting Textures: Consider a piece of soft wool blanket, or even a small square of silk kept in your pocket. The touch of these textures can convey a message of self-care through your skin.

  • Warmth and Softness Combined: A classic rubber hot water bottle encased in a faux-fur or knitted sleeve, or a microwavable warming pad can bring relief. Pressing warmth against your chest or belly counters the physical sensation of grief and invites your lungs to expand.

• Prioritizing Self-Care and Routine: Self-care is a challenge for many of us. Finding that routine, and then keeping it, can be tricky. In one of today’s drawings, the bandaged heart is sitting with their cat and blanket in a quiet place. They may be practicing a grounding exercise of counting their breaths, or listening to music that they find calming. In the later drawing, the bandaged heart takes a comfort blanket along to the store, keeping it close by.

Key, here, is keeping in mind that feeling secure will help you navigate your estrangement. You may often not feel good, even at sea, but when you look to find your anchor, you will have some practices at hand that will help you.

______

So, Dear Lost, Scared and Wishing,

Remembering to comfort yourself when you are hurting can be tricky, but will help. You deserve to feel comfort in this painful time. A security blanket may be a wise choice—please, have one on hand in case you need it!

Best wishes comforting yourself,

Kathy

Please reach out to me in the Chat, Comments Section or at ksinsheimermft@gmail.com

This is column #56

When we are triggered by difficult news or memories of our estrangement, we brace. Our teeth press together, our tongue flattens against the roof of our mouths, temples tighten, and our shoulders creep upward. Even if we move toward Calmer Seas, unexpected reminders can trigger our protective response in an instant, signaling to our nervous systems that danger is coming.

The Chipmunk Puff

To help your nervous system let go a bit after your initial shock recedes, you can give yourself a direct, physical cue to re-engage your natural brake—your vagus nerve. And one of the quickest ways to signal safety is by doing something that might feel just a little bit silly: puffing your cheeks.

Why It Works

In emergency medicine, doctors sometimes instruct patients with sudden, racing heart rates to perform a modified maneuver that increases pressure in the chest and mouth. That gentle rise in internal pressure acts as an immediate trigger for your vagus nerve—the chief highway of your parasympathetic system—prompting it to slow the heart down.

When you puff your cheeks, you do two powerful things at once:

• You stimulate your vagus nerve directly via pressure receptors in your oral cavity and facial tissues.

• You interrupt your jaw’s bracing pattern. Inflating your mouth forces your buccinator and masseter muscles—our primary jaw-clenching muscles—to gently stretch and reset.

When followed by an extended, slow exhale through barely parted lips, the signal to your brainstem is unmistakable: We are not in immediate danger. You can power down.

The Practice: Step by Step

You can do this seated at your desk, parked in your car before walking inside, or whenever a wave of grief leaves your jaw feeling locked.

• 1. Inhale and puff: Take an easy, comfortable breath in through your nose. Seal your lips and puff both cheeks out with air, like a chipmunk.

• 2. Hold gently (3 to 5 seconds): Keep the air held inside your cheeks just long enough to feel the light stretch and internal pressure. A brief pause is plenty; you don’t want to feel lightheaded, just contained.

• 3. Exhale slowly (6 to 8 seconds): Release your breath in a thin, continuous stream through barely parted lips. Let the air leave your mouth as slowly as you comfortably can.

• 4. Repeat: Complete 3 rounds.

What to Look For

After three cycles, don’t expect a total emotional transformation. Grief and longing don’t simply abate, and that isn’t the goal. Instead, look for a small, physiological downshift:

• A millimeter of space appearing between your upper and lower teeth.

• Your tongue dropping softly into the floor of your mouth.

• A spontaneous deep sigh, swallow, or yawn.

• Your shoulders dropping a bit down your back.

Even a 10% softening in your face tells you your brake has engaged. In the midst of relational rupture, we cannot always change the circumstances outside us. But we can offer our own bodies a safer place to land.

Please let me and others know if this somatic practice helped you. And share other practices that slow and calm you down in the Chat or Comments Section.

Best,

Kathy

This is the 4th in Dear Estranged’s Somatic Exercise Series

“I am following my sibling’s ‘request’ (it felt like an order) to go to therapy to work out my ‘shit’ (!) so that we can stop being estranged. I found a therapist to talk with, and what I discovered is that looking at myself is pretty painful. The other day, I actually said ‘Ouch’ out loud to something that my therapist had said.

Why is it so uncomfortable to look at myself? No wonder people don’t want to go to therapy!

Reluctant Participant !!

Dear Reluctant Participant,

First, I want to offer you my admiration for hanging in there with your therapy.

It takes immense courage to sit in that chair, mostly against your will, expecting to be declared totally in the wrong. That you were able to let your therapist’s observation land, and were honest enough to say “Ouch!”, bodes remarkably well for your growth.

Your “ouch” means you were able to acknowledge something true and painful about yourself without too much of a fight. That is not easy, at all, but it is where real transformation begins.

“The most difficult times for many of us are the ones we give ourselves to look into the mirror.”

— Pema Chödrön

Nobody feels good taking in something that feels critical. We are wired to defend ourselves, and as we grow up, our inner alarm gets calibrated for when to go off and how loudly. In everyday life, an accurate observation can feel quite uncomfortable; in therapy, it can feel like a direct threat to the psychological armor we developed to stay safe.

When you begin to lower that protection, the sting can be sharp—not because you are defective, but because you are touching tender territory:

• The shock of dropping your public persona. We have all constructed a version of ourselves to present to the world. Loosening that persona to look at our more subtle “operating instructions” is uncomfortable and not something we often do. We are revealing parts of ourselves we wish were different or cause us shame. If a therapist shows us something about our patterns that we haven’t seen before, that realization will usually land with a force.

• The gap between intention and impact. Seeing that our fiercest, most loving efforts may have had a different outcome than we hoped for can be staggering. Holding both realities at once—“As your sibling, I tried to love you with everything I had” and “the way I did that also caused you strain and pain”—is humbling but ultimately beneficial work.

How do we move from merely enduring our discomfort to actually tolerating, and perhaps even welcoming, the unfolding of who we are?

• Shift from an autopsy to an archaeological dig. An autopsy hunts for what went wrong and who is to blame. An excavation gently brushes away dust to uncover artifacts of how you survived and developed. When you spot a defense or a blind spot, see if you can greet it with compassion instead of contempt: “Look at how hard that part of me worked to keep me safe.” Seeing your patterns as survival strategies makes self-discovery more illuminating, less humiliating.

• Savor the energy you get back. Maintaining an airtight image takes a huge amount of fuel. The moment you admit, “Yes, I can become controlling when I’m afraid of being abandoned,” you no longer have to spend precious energy keeping everything in order or having to be right all the time. Whew!

• Your insight can be a benefit, not a verdict. Looking inward can feel like hiring a judge. Instead, it is about befriending the tender heart beneath your armor. When you realize that your new awareness belongs entirely to you—and that the reward is your own hard-earned clarity of mind—the process can feel less like punishment and more like coming home.

______________________________________

Thank you for your honesty about the roughness of self-reflection. When what you see in the mirror feels sharp, remember to bring compassion to what aches. You are tender because you are healing.

Kathy

Please reach out to me in the Chat, Comments Section or at ksinsheimermft@gmail.com

This is column #55

Today’s practice comes from a simple realization: you don’t have to feel calm before you move. You can start out walking exactly as you are—heavy, scattered, or numb—and let the rhythm of the walk begin to do the heavy lifting for you. Within about ten minutes, your body can begin to reset.

The Practice:

• Step 1: Just head out the door. Don’t try to clear your head first or fix your mood. Put on your shoes, step outside, and start walking at a natural, easy pace. Let yourself feel whatever you are feeling.

• Step 2: Let your eyes wander in sequence. Don’t try to take in everything at once. Let your gaze rest on one thing—a leaf, a porch light, a fence post—then gently move to the next. Notice their colors and shapes as you pass by.

• Step 3: Free your arms. Let your arms swing naturally by your sides. Notice the gentle, rhythmic motion as opposite arm and leg move together.

• Step 4: Feel the weight under your soles. Bring your attention down to your feet. Notice your heel striking the pavement, the rolling through to the ball of the foot, and your push-off with each step.

• Step 5: Sense the shift in your hips. Bring awareness to your lower body. Note the quiet, back-and-forth swing of your legs carrying your weight forward.

• Step 6: Notice your breath. By now, without trying to take deep belly breaths, you may notice your breathing has slowly lengthened and softened on its own.

Here is the link to the video that could help you follow along with the Practice:

Why and How It Works:

• Optic Flow Quiets your Alarm Center: As you move forward, what you take in through your eyes streams from front to back. In neuroscience, this is called optic flow. It sends a primitive safety signal directly to the amygdala (the brain’s threat alarm), quieting your biological urge to freeze or panic.

• Bilateral Movement Balances your Brain: Swinging your arms and alternating your steps creates cross-body, bilateral stimulation (the same principle behind therapies like EMDR). It helps coordinate the left and right hemispheres of your brain, which gets your thinking mind and your feeling body back in better sync.

• Rhythmic Proprioception Discharges Adrenaline: Stress floods your large muscles of your hips and legs with tension designed for running away. Walking transforms that restless energy into a steady, repetitive motor rhythm. The solid impact of your feet on the ground offers your nervous system proof of physical support, allowing your chest and lungs to loosen naturally.

_______________________________

I hope this helps you slow down, in order for you to make your way through your day(s). Please let me know if you tried this movement practice, and, if it was helpful. Also, please share your favorite way to slow yourself down and center yourself.

Best,

Kathy

Please share in the Chat, Comments or email me at ksinsheimermft@gmail.com

After several years of thinking I HAVE to do something about my estrangement, and trying all ways to reach my child, I have taken a break. At first, I was really sad. I am terrible at “giving up” and this was no exception. Then, after several weeks, I began to notice that I was less preoccupied with my estranged child.

I have been making myself go to exercise class—dragging myself through it, really. Now, I at least felt like I had some energy to participate. Don’t get me wrong, lots of people in the class are more energized than I am, but I have some “juice” to bring to the movements.

Is it OK that I feel a little better? What could happen if I let this go on for a little while?

— Finding Some of My Juice

Dear Finding Some of My Juice,

We are in the third and final column of our series revisiting the Oceanic Loss model in honor of Dear Estranged’s first birthday. I couldn’t have chosen a better letter to conclude with, because you are describing what it feels like to swim in Calmer Seas.

You feel a little better. What you are experiencing is not defeat, nor is it giving up.

In my model of Oceanic Loss, grief does not progress in a linear fashion toward “closure.” Instead, grief ebbs and flows through three distinct waters: the initial shock of the Tidal Wave, the relentless churning of Rough Waters, and quieter periods of Calmer Seas.

For several years, you have been battling the waves. When an attachment bond is severed, our powerful pull is to repair it—to throw every ounce of emotional muscle into closing the divide. But living in chronic pursuit and agitation keeps your nervous system perpetually braced for impact. Frantic paddling is exhausting, and it doesn’t necessarily get you to the waters where you hope to swim.

That “juice” you are beginning to feel in your exercise class is energy resurfacing in your own body. You have recaptured some of yourself from your devoted pursuit of your loved one. You are feeling that energy in a part of your life where you can actually sense your own vitality and presence.

In Calmer Seas, your loss doesn’t vanish. As you see in the drawing of this phase, the heart floating in those gentler waves still wears a bandage. The difference is that the cresting swells have, for however long, moved to the perimeter. The water has calmed enough for you to catch your breath, look around, and realize: I am still here.

Calmer Seas Are a Phase, Not a Final Destination

It is important to understand that floating in Calmer Seas is not a marker of perpetual smooth sailing. Just like the other waters in this model, it is a phase you inhabit, not a permanent finish line. Shifts in life circumstances can abruptly alter the tide.

Recently I heard from an estranged mother who had been experiencing a period of relative calm, but was suddenly thrown back into acute grief and depression. She received an unexpected letter from her son announcing a second pregnancy—paired with a painful edict not to reach out. This mother had once enjoyed contact with her first grandchild, but that door had since closed. Now, facing an expanding family from which she was explicitly excluded, the loss hit with fresh, devastating force. In an instant, she transitioned from Calmer Seas right back into a towering Tidal Wave.

If this happens to you down the road, it does not mean you have failed, or that the peace you felt before wasn’t real. It means a new emotional earthquake has struck, sending fresh shockwaves across the waters. You are thrown off course by fresh heartbreak.

A Note on Losses That Resist Calm Waters

Before I say more about when waters might settle, I also want to acknowledge those who carry grief that resists calm, period.

Grandparents tell me that being cut off from grandchildren carries an especially acute, complicated, ongoing heartbreak. When an adult child cuts contact, there is at least an adult dynamic to grapple with. But being severed from grandchildren feels deeply powerless—you are left grieving young children who have no say in the separation, watching milestones pass from afar. For many grandparents, “taking a break” from grieving feels unbearable, as if stepping back is abandoning their grandchild.

I will take up this subject in future columns, but I want to be sure to acknowledge what grandparents have told me and recognize that Calmer Seas can feel unavailable at this level of heartache.

Living Alongside Your Grief

The Calmer Seas phase is not about forgetting your child. It is about finding space to live alongside your grief—not fully inhabit it. You can hold sorrow for the rift in one hand, and still, at times, experience your own vitality in the other.

You become a steadier harbor for yourself: in the thick of the storm, outreach often carries the frantic energy of our own panic. If a path toward contact ever opens down the road, your estranged loved one will find you more rooted in your own life.

“Healing isn’t about getting rid of the ache. It’s about expanding your capacity to hold the ache while still showing up for the life you have.”

— Lisa Olivera

Practical Ways to Possibly Access Calmer Seas

• Begin a practice of centering yourself: This does require you to try to set down your active grief. If that feels unbearable right now, wait until you feel ready. I have started to make a once-a-week offering of a centering exercise in this Substack column, published early in the week. You could try that, ask friends for ideas, or search for exercises that help settle your nervous system. Be sure the exercises are at the right level for you—focused breathing, for example, can feel too intense or emotional for some in acute loss.

• Return to parts of you that you may have set aside when you became a parent: Did you have hobbies, sports, or volunteer work that you used to enjoy? Gardening, knitting, pickleball, literacy support… what of those could you return to? You can begin to re-establish your importance to yourself and others by joining activities and slowing yourself down as a gift to yourself.

• Make plans with people who enjoy you: Seek out those who genuinely want to spend time together. Take walks, play cards, do a puzzle. Enjoy each other’s company.

• Check in with yourself about your reaction to doing more for yourself: Notice any negative voices criticizing you for setting down your active search for contact with your loved one. Tell them: “I know you; I hear you; but that doesn’t need my attention right now.” The voices can wait. You have tried everything, and you need a break. Self-care is key to making it through tough times, and it is vital in navigating estrangement.

Dear Finding Some of My Juice,

Thank you for sharing your calmer feelings. It isn’t simple to accept the lightening of your loss—you wonder if you should remain intensely focused on your estranged loved one.

I hope you will find genuine relief in your respite, and I am so pleased that you get this well-deserved break.

Warmly,

Kathy

Please send your questions about estrangement to ksinsheimermft@gmail.com or Comment or Chat here on Substack

This is column # 54

Last week I began offering a weekly brief somatic activity to alleviate some of the emotional strain of estrangement. I’m hoping the activity helps you experience some relief as you make your way through your separation from your loved one.

This week, the brief activity involves Orienting to help you center and slow down. I will embed a video in this column to talk you through the activity.

When emotional distress spikes, our bodies instinctively prepare for a physical threat. Without our realizing it, our vision narrows into a tight spotlight, our neck muscles lock up, and our nervous system gets stuck in a loop of scanning for danger.

If looking inward feels like too much right now, we can look outward instead.

Orienting is a natural reflex our bodies use to confirm safety in our surroundings. It requires no vigorous movement, no breath work, and no digging into painful emotions.

The Practice:

1. Make sure you are in a space where you feel safe.

2. Wherever you are sitting, allow your head to turn slowly from side to side.

3. Let your eyes wander freely around the room without searching for anything specific.

4. Let your gaze rest on two or three neutral, ordinary objects—a book on a shelf, a patch of light on the floor, a houseplant, or a picture on the wall.

5. Name each object silently to yourself, noticing one detail like its color or shape, before slowly moving on.

Why It Works: Your brain’s alarm center will keep signaling danger until it receives real-time evidence to the contrary. When you gently turn your neck and let your eyes take in everyday, peaceful objects, you break the body’s freeze response. You are providing visual proof to your nervous system that the space around you is secure right now.

Please let me know whether of not this activity was helpful to you, and how so.

Best,

Kathy

You can contact me through the Chat, the Comments, or email me: ksinsheimermft@gmail.com

My sibling and I have taken a trip together every fall to see the leaves turn. When I started our planning for this year, she was vague about dates. I haven’t been able to get her to commit, and now she is not responding to my requests. She says nothing is wrong, but I am sure something is. She isn’t a great communicator, and telling me something isn’t right would be hard for her.

I’m frightened she is ending our sibling relationship—I almost said friendship, because it is that, too. And that she won’t tell me why.

I’ve been in emotional free-fall. I’m afraid we won’t have our trip; she is “scrubbing” our relationship, and that I will never know why.

Please help me think about this differently—I’m drowning!

— Scared, Mad, and Heartbroken

Dear Scared, Mad, and Heartbroken,

We are in part 2 of our 3-part series reviewing my Oceanic Loss model in honor of Dear Estranged’s first birthday. I chose your letter this week because it perfectly describes the pain of being caught in the Tidal Wave phase of Oceanic Loss. When communication suddenly dries up, you are tossed into emotional free-fall—unable to tell up from down, and barely able to catch your breath.

While Oceanic Loss can be progressive, it isn’t always a straight line from storm to calm. In the drawing of the model below, you will see the massive Tidal Wave on the left and a whirlpool right in the center of the Rough Waters. That vortex provides context and perspective: even as you begin moving toward Calmer Seas, grief can swirl you back up at any moment. A change in tone, an unreturned message, or an approaching seasonal tradition can pull you into the spin. Recognizing the whirlpool helps you see that you aren’t failing to heal; you are simply navigating the non-linear currents of relational loss.

Your Heart Will Hurt

An unavoidable truth of estrangement loss is that your heart will hurt. Someone you love deeply has stepped away from you and has reduced or cut off contact. The suddenness is shocking and throws you into the depths of the ocean of grief, with what feel like huge waves all around. You didn’t see this coming, you feel shocked, overwhelmed, suddenly bereft, disoriented, panic-y, and hopeless. This flies in the face of what you felt was true, at times making you doubt the history with your loved other as you remember it.

The place in your heart where that relationship lived and where your attachment lives feels ripped open.

“Heartbreak is what happens when love is lost or when a connection is severed. It is an involuntary yearning for wholeness, and grief requires us to reorient ourselves to every part of our physical, emotional, and social worlds.”

— Brené Brown

You feel ongoing hurt, possibly unlike any hurt you have known before. Your loss of control over any contact is deeply painful and can even be frightening, because all attachment brings with it a desire to be able to locate your beloved other. And when contact is reduced or cut off, your body registers that silence as a physical alarm.

Where to begin with a suddenly hurt heart?

• Recognize you are in the Tidal Wave: Accept that right now, you are being tossed around by acute fear and heartbreak.

• Acknowledge your lack of control: Recognize that you may be powerless to do or change anything in your relationship at this time.

• Sit with the discomfort: Allow yourself to be in this uncomfortable place without immediately trying to force a resolution.

• Accept the current ambiguity: Work with yourself to take in the reality of the present moment, even while it feels unfair and unresolved.

What next?

• Express the unsaid: Identify a way you can privately record your thoughts—a practice of talking (leaving yourself a voice memo), journaling uncensored, or making art to give healthy expression to your raw feelings. Your loved one can’t/won’ hear you right now, but it is important for you that you express yourself!

• Pause your pursuit: Step back from repeatedly asking for dates; give her silence some room so you aren’t feeding your own anxiety vortex.

• Explore somatic, self-calming practices: Engage in simple grounding practices—feeling your feet flat on the floor, lengthening your exhales, or gentle movement—to calm your nervous system when panic spikes. I have started sharing one of these practices each week with an accompanying video; see if those resonate with you, or search elsewhere for what suits you best.

• Refocus your energies: When you are ready, re-center your attention on areas of your life and relationships where you feel valued, reciprocated, and able to contribute.

• Center yourself regularly: Practice small, steadying rituals throughout the day to help you stay more even-keeled through the loss.

_______________________

So, Dear Scared, Mad, and Heartbroken,

Your heart is hurting like crazy right now. I am so sorry, and I get it. It hurts that your sister can’t be more direct, leaving you bewildered, sad, and upset.

Please talk with supportive others about the best way to handle your fall trip to see the leaves (Should you still go? Better not to, to avoid the hurt feelings you will no doubt have?).

Allow yourself to feel the real pain of this silence, and see if there is a gentle way to ask for a conversation when the dust settles. In the meantime, love yourself as best you can, and be sure that others who love you remind you of their love and support.

Warmly,

Kathy

Please reach out to me in the Chat, Comments Section or at ksinsheimermft@gmail.com

This is column #53

(Happy Birthday, Dear Estranged!)

Our feelings live in both our thoughts and our bodies. When distress takes over, we rarely think our way into calm—we have to help our physiology settle first, and the mind will follow.

I plan to begin sharing one simple somatic practice midweek to help you discover easy, reliable tools to regulate your nervous system.

Here is our first practice.

Seated Grounding (Let the Chair Do the Work)

When we are carrying profound loss, grief, or family rupture, our minds tend to work overtime. We replay conversations, draft unsent letters in our heads, and brace against waves of emotion. Most relaxation advice tells you to “take a deep breath” or “put a hand over your heart,” but when your heart hurts, turning inward toward your chest or stomach can feel overwhelming.

We don’t need to dive into the deep end. We can start with simple, safe practices for centering. You are learning how to calm your body, and, just like learning to swim, it takes time, practice, and trial and error.

Your nervous system responds far better to tangible, physical facts than to positive thinking. One of the simplest ways to help an overtaxed body settle is through simple seated contact. So we will start sitting!

The Practice:

• Sit in any sturdy chair and place both feet flat on the floor.

• Don’t worry about fixing your posture or changing how you breathe.

• Bring your entire attention to the physical contact points: the weight of your thighs on the seat, your back resting against the chair, and the soles of your feet touching the floor.

• Pick one sensation—like the firmness under your heels—and just notice it for 30 to 60 seconds.

Why It Works:

When you are on high alert, your muscles unconsciously clench to keep you upright and ready for impact. By tuning into the supportive surfaces beneath you, you give your body permission to stop bracing. You are letting the chair and the floor do the holding. It sends a quiet, direct message to your brain: Right here, in this exact spot, the ground is steady.

Use this video link to help you walk through the exercise:

Please let me know in the comments if you tried this exercise and how it felt—or email me at ksinsheimermft@gmail.com. I would also love to hear about any grounding practices that have worked for you.

Best,

Kathy

Column 1 of this somatic series.

Thank you for your warmth, vulnerability, and support throughout our first year together. Your letters and comments continue to shape this space into a compassionate harbor for those navigating profound family rifts.

To begin celebrating our first anniversary, (next week!) I am launching a three-part series revisiting the foundational framework of this column: the Oceanic Grief Model.

In moments of acute distress, the Oceanic Grief Model is designed to give you an emotional compass. To help you locate where you are in the stormy seas, find your center, and begin moving toward calmer waters.

My reader asks:

Dear Kathy,

My child has estranged me beyond anything I could have imagined. Even when I am doing my estate planning, and I have questions for her, she wants nothing to do with me—or my money. Not even after I am dead!

How can I stop this painful cycle of finding her in my thoughts, wishing we could be in contact, coming up with what I hope is THE way she will reach back to me, unsuccessfully telling myself to “give it a rest,” feeling hopeless, and ultimately getting frustrated with myself for falling into this well-worn groove?

Please help, if you can!

— Yearning, Missing, Failing, On Repeat and Frustrated

Dear Yearning and Frustrated,

What you describe—finding yourself seeking contact with a loved one who has issued a “no-contact” ban—is painfully common. There are many sources that fuel your yearning:

Your loved one, in this case your child, has been very dear to you. Your heart has a location carved out for her, where she has nestled for many years. A home for her in your heart, as it were. You are attached to her; you have been from the very beginning. This architecture of your heart is permanent. So, step #1 may be to accept that. She is dear to you. Period.

However, she also doesn’t want to be in contact. This is beyond what you had ever imagined—you imagined forever closeness. Your future has been changed by her announcement: NO CONTACT. Not by any means. (And we have a lot these days.)

Here is where your work begins: Your job is to begin to let go. Not because this is what you would ever choose, but because this is your current, only option.

Your mind will argue:

• “But I love her so much!” (Yes, you do, and that will make this even harder for you.)

• “But she is a member of our family!” (Yes, she is, and she can remain so in your mind. But she may wish to identify herself differently.)

• “But she needs my/our support.” (It may seem that way, but she may feel differently.)

• “Families are forever. And they are supposed to stick together.” (As humans, we have thought this way for many years. These ideas seem to be undergoing a cultural upheaval.)

• “I haven’t had a chance to really work this out with her.” (This is, unfortunately, often the case with estrangement. The silence is deafening, and you keep hoping to speak or even yell through it or past it in order to be heard.)

• “It is so frustrating and hurtful to feel this powerless.” (Yes, it is, and here is where the work comes in…)

Exiting Rough Waters?

You are, like our heart in the drawing, currently in Rough Waters. Your seeking, while completely understandable, is keeping you there. You are struggling to accept what you have been shown and told: your child does not want contact, at least for now. Your brain cannot take in that information: What? My child doesn’t want to be in touch? Not imaginable!

I get it, but let’s take another look:

What would it take to imagine it? How could you wrap your head around her wishes, at least for now? And how can you tell your mind and heart to stop searching for her?

In the drawing this week, the heart has his flashlight and safety gear because he cannot stop looking for his loved one. He believes if he seeks long and hard enough—even with the tsunami waves crashing over him—he will spot his loved one with his flashlight and they will reunite in some way. This belief keeps him searching.

In order to feel a little more settled, our heart will need to put down his flashlight. He will need to pivot and find ways to steady himself. If he can seek shallower waters, less in the path of the waves and at least in view of dry land, he may begin to feel a bit calmer.

As author and therapist Lisa Olivera reminds us:

“Grief doesn’t have to be something we fight against; it can become a companion we learn to carry gently as we tend to the rest of our lives.”

How does our heart begin to do that? It’s not as easy as it sounds, but here is where to start:

Suggestions for Turning Down the Searchlight:

• Start by realizing you have lost your center.

• Let grief be a companion, but not your beacon. Acknowledge its presence without allowing it to direct your every action or keep you scanning the horizon.

• Identify parts of yourself that you may have been neglecting in your upset and grief.

• Make plans to re-focus on activities where you feel effective.

• Observe your effectiveness and take in your pleasure at accomplishing things. Briefly contrast this with where you feel ineffective (i.e., with your loved one). Note the difference and place that awareness in a spot where you can retrieve it when you need it.

• Be kind to yourself when your estranged loved one comes to mind, but ask yourself not to dwell there. Yes, you love them very much. They have asked for space, and you are working to provide it.

• Develop somatic ways to calm your thinking. Learning to slow your mind, utilizing breathing practices to settle your nervous system, and engaging in movement or exercise are fundamental ways we can process grief while finding our center again.

• Cultivate and strengthen the relationships where you do have ongoing contact. Improving your communication and emotional regulation within your active support system honors both yourself and those around you—while preparing you for the possibility of healthy engagement if contact is ever restored.

Focus on valuing yourself and tending to the loved ones with whom shared connection enriches your daily life.

_______________________________

So, Dear Yearning and Frustrated,

It is so understandable that your heart keeps looking for your loved one. You love her; she has a home in your heart; your heart doesn’t understand why she doesn’t want to come home.

For now, your hurting heart needs other sorts of tending: love from you and those near you who can actively provide warmth and companionship.

Early on in my columns, I found myself quoting the singer/songwriter Stephen Stills several times: “Love the one you’re with”. I think, as Dear Estranged completes its first cycle around the sun, we are back there. And it’s good advice!

Best,

Kathy

Please reach out to me in the Comments Section or at ksinsheimermft@gmail.com

This is column #52