Trauma Healing with Sharon Ann

Trauma Healing with Sharon Ann God is the vine, we are the branches. He who abides in God bears much fruit. John 15:5

04/28/2026

Is a "fresh start" a clinical solution—or an administrative eraser for systemic failure?

However, when administrative shifts—such as a forced relocation to a Wesley Chapel branch under a Christian-based counseling framework—are proposed as a remedy for documented environmental stressors, we must evaluate the ethics involved. A strategic move might appear convenient on paper, but if it serves to bypass unresolved issues in the primary care environment, it risks becoming a "clinical eraser." True advocacy requires us to stand our ground and ensure safety is restored where it was first compromised, rather than simply moving the conversation to a new zip code.

As practitioners and clinical researchers, our primary obligation is to the physiological and psychological stability of the individual. When a care environment has a documented history of administrative barriers, the solution isn’t to walk away from the evidence, but to engage in a rigorous forensic audit of the current standards of care. Proposing a relocation as "bait" to minimize past failures is a breach of professional integrity. It ignores the biometric reality of the patient's experience and prioritizes office convenience over clinical continuity. We must advocate for compliance and accountability within the existing "scaffold" of care before suggesting a relocation that might only serve to silence the patient's voice.

Ultimately, professional boundaries are the foundation of trust. When a client identifies that a specific location or transition is "not open for discussion," it is a clinical directive that must be respected. By utilizing tools like ICD-10 Z-codes to document psychosocial and environmental stressors, we move the narrative from "interpersonal conflict" to "systemic accountability." As I continue my journey in clinical research and social work, I am reminded that our power lies in our ability to demand transparency. We don't need a new building to find a resolution; we need a commitment to the professional standards that protect every heart rate and every breath within the office we already call home.

A Hero’s Journey, One Step at a TimeThis past Sunday, An Infinite Mind hosted their monthly speaker series, and I had th...
01/15/2026

A Hero’s Journey, One Step at a Time

This past Sunday, An Infinite Mind hosted their monthly speaker series, and I had the opportunity to listen to a powerful talk by Lynn Barrett titled “A Hero’s Journey for Dissociative Survivors: Healing without Forgiving.” As someone on my own healing journey from dissociative identities, her words deeply resonated with me.

At one point, Lynn shared a simple but profound statement:
“I knew that if I could heal, others could too.”

That sentence stayed with me.

In my own healing, I’ve learned that trauma and dissociation don’t resolve overnight. Healing takes time. It’s layered, nonlinear, and often uncomfortable. You can’t go around trauma — you have to go through it. Along the way, there are deeply challenging moments, but there are also moments of connection, meaning, and even hope, with trauma still very much in the picture.

One of the hardest experiences I’ve had to walk through was losing my cousin at just 42 years old due to poor health choices. That loss brought grief, anger, and helplessness to the surface — emotions that were already familiar because of earlier trauma. It forced me to sit with pain I couldn’t fix or explain away. There was no shortcut through it. I had to feel it, name it, and grieve it.

And yet, something meaningful has grown out of my own trauma history. One of the good things — if I can call it that — is the ability to use my past to empower and help others. What once felt like only brokenness has become a bridge of understanding, compassion, and hope for people walking similar paths.

For me, healing did not come from formally saying that I forgive my abuser. That language never quite fit my process. Instead, healing came through expression and release. I once wrote a letter — heavily censored — saying everything I never got to say. I read it out loud, allowing my voice to exist where it had once been silenced. Then I symbolically burned that letter in a bonfire, releasing the pain and heartbreak of what happened. That moment wasn’t about forgiveness; it was about freedom.

I’ve come to believe that you don’t have to forgive to heal. Healing from pain can come through other sacred and meaningful practices — journaling, prayer, showing up honestly in support groups, and choosing, again and again, to work on yourself with patience and courage.

Scripture reminds me of this slow, refining process. In James 1:2–4, we read:

“Consider it pure joy… whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

Healing is a journey. How might sharing your story—or listening to someone else’s—be part of healing, both for you and for others?













🧠✨ 10 Things Your Trauma Coach Actually Loves to Hear(Yes… even the fun, everyday stuff.)🧠✨Trauma work doesn’t always ha...
12/23/2025

🧠✨ 10 Things Your Trauma Coach Actually Loves to Hear

(Yes… even the fun, everyday stuff.)🧠✨

Trauma work doesn’t always have to be heavy.

Sometimes, the most healing moments come from the ordinary.

1.) “My weekend was actually kind of nice.”

Even small moments of calm matter. A walk, a nap, a good meal—those count.

2.) “I laughed at something silly.”

Laughter tells us your nervous system felt safe enough to play.

3.) “I tried something new.”

New food. New show. New route home. That’s courage in action.

4.) “I rested without feeling guilty (even for a few minutes).”

That’s not laziness—that’s healing.

5.) “I noticed how my body felt today.”

Awareness is a huge win, even when the feeling isn’t pleasant.

6.) “I set a small boundary.”

Small boundaries are how big safety is built.

7.) “I did something creative.”

Drawing, coloring, writing, building—play is regulation.

8.) “I took care of myself like I would a kid.”

Snacks. Water. Comfort. That’s re-parenting in real life.

9.) “I didn’t spiral as much as I used to.”

Progress isn’t perfection—it’s gentler landings.

10.) “Nothing big happened… and that felt okay.”

Neutral days are often signs of nervous system repair.

💬 You don’t have to bring only pain into the room.

Your joy, your curiosity, your ordinary moments—they matter too.

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12/17/2025

Every Ending Is a New Beginning (Even When It Doesn’t Feel Like It)

What if the moment you thought everything was falling apart was actually the moment things were quietly falling into place?

As 2025 winds down, I’ve been reflecting on where this year started versus where my life is today—and the difference is profound.

I began this year at what felt like rock bottom.
My credit cards were maxed out.
I was carrying $2,400 in debt.
I had no clear plan for how I was going to support myself as a trauma coach.

And if I’m being honest, even my relationship with God was hanging on by a thread.

In February, after attending a conference on trauma and dissociation, I found myself sitting at a 24-hour IHOP (International House of Prayer)—tired, uncertain, and praying for direction. Shortly after that moment, I was blessed with a six-month position at a local college, working in their counseling center.

For the first time in a long while, my life had stability.

By May, I had paid off half of my credit card debt.
In April, I went back to school—an opportunity I never thought would be possible—and began working toward becoming a social worker. To my own surprise, I’m currently passing every class with A’s.

Then came another ending… and another beginning.

Over Labor Day weekend, I made the decision to leave my college job and return to full-time coaching. Almost immediately, doors began to open. I was offered speaking engagements, started hosting live webinars, and returned to podcasting.

By October, my business had grown—and several former clients returned.

In November, my LinkedIn presence took off in ways I never imagined. Behind the scenes, my inbox filled with messages from individuals seeking support—especially those living with dissociative identities. Around that time, I was blessed with two grants to support my business in 2026.

And just this week, I received another grant from a business in Orlando (who wishes to remain anonymous). They’ve been quietly following my journey here on LinkedIn for the past two years. Their only request? That I appear once a month in Orlando to speak at workshops or seminars on topics like dissociation, polyvagal theory, and trauma-informed healing.

This year reminded me of something powerful:

Growth requires time, effort, and commitment.
When life throws curveballs, it’s easy to say “I can’t.”
Transformation happens when we choose to say, “I can—and I will.”

My biggest lesson of 2025?
Never give up on your dreams.
Don’t let the opinions or doubts of others wear you down. Hitting rock bottom doesn’t mean you stay there. When you have faith in yourself and use self-awareness for good, things begin to align naturally.

What has been your biggest learning lesson this year?
👇 Drop a comment below—I’d truly love too hear.

“In an enmeshed family, love is confused with control, silence is mistaken for loyalty, and the truth-teller becomes the...
11/21/2025

“In an enmeshed family, love is confused with control, silence is mistaken for loyalty, and the truth-teller becomes the threat.”

Ever notice how loyalty becomes the unspoken currency in an enmeshed family? The rule is simple: don’t disrupt the image—even if the image is built on denial. Growing up in systems like this, the child who sees the truth becomes the one forced to swallow it. Their voice gets muted, their intuition questioned, and their emotional needs dismissed in the name of keeping the peace. As adults, this becomes a silent battle: trusting their own perceptions, believing in their worth, and feeling safe enough to form healthy connections. Proverbs 4:23—“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it”—hits deep for me because I was never taught to guard my heart… I was taught to guard the family image. John 8:32—“Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free”—became the verse that helped me reclaim my voice after years of being told my truth was too loud, too much, or too inconvenient.

Enmeshed families create adults who second-guess themselves even when their instincts are right, who apologize just for existing, and who learn to anticipate rejection before safety. Healing means rewriting the rules we were raised on, choosing boundaries instead of guilt, and giving ourselves permission to speak even when our voice shakes. For me, letting truth lead—not fear—has been the doorway to real freedom, healthier relationships, and the courage to be fully seen. So let me ask you this: What’s one belief you were raised with that you’re no longer willing to carry into your future?

11/17/2025

Seasonal depression has a funny way of sneaking up on us—kind of like Garfield’s Monday meltdowns. That grumpy orange cat hates Mondays the way many of us secretly dread the colder, darker months, and honestly… I relate. So today, after six months of not recording a single webinar on recovery topics like anxiety, depression, PTSD, or dissociation, I decided to channel my inner Garfield and drag myself into the office early—yes, the old cigar factory turned workspace—and record anyway. My voice was shaky and scratchy, the lighting in the soundproof room was absolutely terrible (why didn’t I bring a ring light?!), and my nerves were doing their own interpretive dance. But instead of deleting it, I chose to lean into the messy, imperfect process because when something is fresh and new, you don’t erase the effort—you learn from it and grow stronger each time. So tell me… what’s one thing you’re willing to try—even imperfectly—this season to support your mental health?

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Sometimes, no matter how structured we are, life has a way of rewriting our carefully planned agenda. For those of us wh...
11/11/2025

Sometimes, no matter how structured we are, life has a way of rewriting our carefully planned agenda. For those of us who thrive on routine, the slightest disruption can trigger a wave of anxiety. This past Monday afternoon, after a two-hour morning appointment, I found myself with a last-minute cancellation from one of my trauma coaching clients—a woman who attended support groups from a nonprofit I ran for ten years before I started Metamorphosis Counseling & Wellness Center. She’s one of my most challenging clients, diagnosed with dissociative identities, and in many ways, she reminds me of myself at the start of my own recovery journey—scared, guarded, and unsure who to trust. She canceled because she wanted to “try” doing the week on her own—relying on journaling, prayer, and church. My first thought was that she’d relapse, that a crisis would follow, and by Wednesday she’d be calling me to schedule an emergency session. But I had to remind myself—it wasn’t my decision to make. Her healing journey is her own. As trauma coaches and mental health professionals, how often do we want to rescue our clients instead of allowing them the space to grow? Romans 7:7 reminds us that “I would not have known what sin was had it not been for the law”—a powerful truth that mirrors therapy itself. Sometimes, our clients must face discomfort to recognize their patterns and find freedom.

Her cancellation became an unexpected blessing. Instead of dwelling on the change, I chose self-care—spending those two free hours at the YMCA, trying my hand at line dancing, followed by a grounding yoga session before returning to the office for a podcast interview and a new client session. What began as frustration turned into refreshment. When’s the last time your plans changed unexpectedly—and instead of being angry or anxious, you paused long enough to see the good in it?

11/08/2025

Calm down.” “Don’t worry.” “It’s not that bad.” — words often spoken with good intentions, yet they can unintentionally deepen the storm of anxiety. Sometimes, in our effort to help, we forget that empathy isn’t about fixing—it’s about feeling with. A gentle reminder instead could sound like: “I’m here for you,” “Take your time,” or “You’re safe right now.” These phrases speak life, not pressure. What if we all paused long enough to listen instead of rescue—how might that change the way we support those who are struggling?

10/31/2025

While others wear masks for fun, we spend our days helping people take theirs off.

Do you ever feel like you’re sitting in a quiet room, staring at an empty wall, and your mind starts racing like it’s ho...
10/28/2025

Do you ever feel like you’re sitting in a quiet room, staring at an empty wall, and your mind starts racing like it’s hosting a full-blown movie you didn’t sign up for? That’s what anxiety can feel like—still on the outside, chaotic on the inside. Every little thought stretches and twists until it feels bigger than it really is. You watch yourself overthink every “what if,” every pause, every silence, until even the emptiest wall seems like it’s closing in on you. It’s exhausting, confusing, and somehow, incredibly real.

Anxiety doesn’t have to make sense to be powerful. You can’t always reason it away, and telling yourself to “just calm down” barely scratches the surface. But even in that stillness, even in that staring-at-nothing moment, surviving it is proof of your strength. Every breath, every blink, every second you sit there and keep going counts. 💜 If this resonates with you, drop a heart below and remind yourself—and others—that we’re not alone in these quiet battles.

























“Are You Pondering What I’m Pondering?” — How Brainspotting Helps Women Heal from Trauma and DissociationIf you know Pin...
09/13/2025

“Are You Pondering What I’m Pondering?” — How Brainspotting Helps Women Heal from Trauma and Dissociation

If you know Pinky and the Brain, a 90s cartoon on Cartoon Network, you know that sometimes the tiniest change in focus can lead to the biggest breakthroughs.

That’s exactly how Brainspotting works.

It helps you locate a specific spot in your visual field—your brainspot—where trauma (whether it’s big “T” trauma, little “t” trauma, distress, or overwhelming emotions) is stored in your nervous system.

I’m Sharon Ann Hee, a trauma coach for women navigating anxiety, depression, PTSD, and dissociation.

As someone who has lived through childhood trauma and dissociation, I can tell you firsthand how powerful it is to finally have a tool that helps your brain process what your mind has been holding for years.

Brainspotting isn’t just about eye positions—looking left, right, up at the ceiling, or down at the ground. It’s about reconnecting with your body and emotions in a safe, supported space.

For me, dissociation was a daily reality. I could be driving down I-4, not knowing where I was headed—or walking through Universal Studios CityWalk, unsure how I got there or how long I had been in the area. Parts of me felt invisible, even to myself.

I’ve seen how focusing on a brainspot can gently ground you in your body, bring buried memories to the surface, and release emotional weight you didn’t even know you were carrying.

When combined with mindfulness, such as prayer, yoga, meditation, and a resource spot (a visual anchor for safety), Brainspotting can restore a deep sense of control and stability—something that feels nearly impossible when trauma has taken over your life.

The science is just as compelling as the results.
Brainspotting targets specific neural pathways where trauma is stored—activating those networks so the brain can finally process and integrate what’s been stuck for years. It’s like flipping the script on your life story.

Through dual attunement—where the therapist mirrors your body cues—and optional bilateral sound, your brain’s natural healing capacity is amplified.

Unlike EMDR, which uses general eye movements, Brainspotting goes to the exact place trauma lives, making it an ideal choice for people who dissociate or have parts of themselves struggling to be heard.

If you’re a woman navigating PTSD, childhood trauma, or dissociation, I want you to know: there is hope. And healing doesn’t have to be harsh—it can be gentle, empowering, and deeply restorative.

Thank you for listening.








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