Your Trauma Is Not a Wrinkle: EMDR and the Medspadification of Therapy
I trained in EMDR. I practiced EMDR. And over time, I realized: It’s not the kind of therapy I believe in.
That’s not because it never helps; for some clients—especially those with specific, contained trauma—it can bring (temporary) relief. There’s something powerful in accessing memory beyond language, in giving the body a voice in healing. I’ve seen clients leave sessions calmer, clearer, more grounded.
But EMDR promises a kind of tidy resolution that trauma rarely offers. It risks reducing the work of addressing suffering to a linear, superficial procedure—as if suffering is just a wrinkle to smooth out. In practice, I found myself becoming more of a technician than a therapist: Guiding clients through eight scripted phases and checking boxes while something vital remained consistently untouched.
Clients often ask their therapist for EMDR like it’s Botox: “Just get in there and smooth out my trauma.” And believers in the field market it that way—quick, effective, and evidence-based. But trauma isn’t a forehead wrinkle; it’s human suffering. And suffering needs more than a treatment plan with polished branding.
As I practiced EMDR, I began to notice how it bypassed the deeper work: Identity, grief, meaning, ambiguity. For queer and trans clients, or anyone navigating spiritual crisis, relational trauma, or big life transitions, it often felt like the wrong tool entirely.
What concerns me most is how EMDR has become the psychotherapy equivalent of a trendy medspa procedure. And some clinicians offer nothing else, funneling every client into it regardless of whether it fits. And if it doesn’t work? The client, not the protocol, must be the problem.
Real healing isn’t cosmetic. It isn’t linear. It is human, relational, and far too complex for eight phases and a clipboard.
Your trauma is not a wrinkle to be smoothed out, and you are not a flaw to be fixed. If you’ve tried EMDR or other standardized approaches and still feel stuck—let’s talk.