In 2006, I was five years into my social work career and beginning my first year as a therapist after completing my Master of Social Work degree. I was working at a non-profit counselling agency when I was assigned to support a middle-aged man struggling with mood and anxiety symptoms. On the surface, it was a common presentation — and a good fit for a new therapist freshly trained in Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT).
At our first session, my heart sank.
This man had been in and out of therapy for eight years. He had seen multiple clinicians, tried different approaches, and yet continued to struggle. As I gathered his history, I learned that he had been doing well in life until nine years earlier, when he found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Walking home from work one day, he witnessed a tragedy that resulted in the loss of a teenage girl’s life. He was one of several people who attempted to render first aid.
What followed were years of sadness, intrusive memories, interrupted sleep, avoidance, and constant worry about harm coming to the people he loved. It quickly became clear to me that my newly acquired CBT skills — skills that had already been tried with other therapists — were unlikely to make the difference he needed. In fact, I worried that continuing to focus on thought restructuring without addressing the traumatic memory itself could unintentionally deepen his sense of frustration or failure.
That’s when I was introduced to Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR). The agency I worked for had a clinician trained in EMDR. At the time, it was still relatively new to me, but it was gaining traction in the province because of its effectiveness and efficiency in treating trauma. I connected him with that clinician and quietly hoped this wouldn’t be just another failed attempt at healing. It wasn’t.
After years of suffering, he experienced meaningful relief. The distressing images subsided. The constant reliving stopped. The avoidance eased. Most importantly, he was able to accept that he had done the best he could in an impossible moment. He reclaimed his life. That was the moment I knew EMDR was something I would pursue as a therapist.
It took time, but in 2022 I completed my EMDR training — and it has been full steam ahead ever since. What I love most about EMDR is that clients don’t have to recount every painful detail of their traumatic experience. We focus on the “headlines” rather than reliving the entire story. EMDR often leads to a rapid reduction in emotional distress and can help resolve long-held negative beliefs about oneself — beliefs like “I should have done more,” “I’m not safe,” or “It was my fault.” Using bilateral stimulation — such as eye movements, sounds, or gentle tapping — clients focus on aspects of a traumatic memory, notice how it connects to present-day beliefs about themselves, and allow the brain to process the experience in a new way. With the guidance of a trained therapist, the memory becomes integrated rather than overwhelming.
EMDR is not a miracle. The work still requires courage. Clients must face painful memories and allow difficult emotions to surface. But I have witnessed experiences that people have carried for decades shift in profound ways. Trauma doesn’t disappear from your story — but it no longer defines it. It becomes something that happened, rather than something that continues to happen inside you. And that transformation can feel nothing short of miraculous.
Beth-Ann Prime
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