written by Maryam Dada, M.A., RCC
mildly edited by Linda Lin, RCC, CCC, RCAT

I started watching the hit show Severance on the recommendation of one of my besties who works in the corporate world. The show, which is currently receiving a lot of attention for its sci-fi portrayal of ‘work-life balance,’ depicts the lives of corporate workers at Lumon, a Biotech company. These employees have undergone a surgical procedure, known as severance, that allows them to mentally separate their work life from their personal life. An implanted device causes employees to lose all their memories of the outside world, which then creates a split personality— the “innie” who works at Lumon, and the “outie” who gets to live their personal life.

We’re going to be exploring the importance of mind-body connection, explain the role of our nervous systems (specifically the ANS), and what it looks like to live an ‘embodied’ life.

What Is Severance Really Saying About Work-Life Balance?

As I was watching, I couldn't help but think of all the different mental health implications of a severance procedure while also recognizing the appeal of getting some separation from work and the very coveted ‘work life balance’… especially under late-stage capitalism. 

Severance is set in the near future where getting this medical procedure is certainly controversial but also advertised, encouraged, and appealing for many. 

The main character, Mark, was a history professor at the local university whose wife died in a car accident. We learn that Mark chose to work for Lumon because it was easier than grieving his dead wife; which of course, is not the healthiest solution for grief and loss, but it does humanize our main character and sets the premise for some pretty important mental health questions. Namely, can work-life balance be achieved by splitting our personalities?

If our work personas only exist at work, it sure would make it a lot easier to not bring work home, to not think about work after hours, or to work overtime. And for our main character, Mark, having the option of forgetting about his partner’s death, seems like a surefire way to not deal with it™. 

Although, I wonder how true that actually is. 

While a very interesting premise and story-line, with many different undertones about our society and the emphasis we place on work, and how human beings respond to and deal with trauma, or even the ethical implications about having what is essentially a clone…

I think one of the biggest considerations for me was thinking about what happens to our bodies. 

The Mind-Body Connection: Why Compartmentalization Doesn't Work

From a therapeutic perspective, we might be able to mentally compartmentalize parts of our lives and that kind of organization can certainly be helpful, however we cannot escape from our bodily sensations. 

The mind-body connection operates on the belief that our mental and physical health are linked (Pally, 1998). When we feel dysregulated or even discomfort, we are likely experiencing a mental and physical symptom. 

For example, when you are feeling anxious you might start to have racing thoughts, while also noticing your muscles tensing or your palms becoming sweaty, you could have butterflies in your tummy, or even be feeling nauseous.

Strengthening the mind-body connection is a gentle reminder that we are made up of not only our mental states but also our physical states. It’s acknowledging that our bodies are not simply vehicles for our minds, but that two work in tandem to keep us healthy.

Understanding the Autonomic Nervous System and Stress

When we work to strengthen that mind-body connection we are engaging in a form of emotional regulation and directly working with our nervous systems. 



The Autonomic Nervous System (ANS)

•  is our body’s command centre that influences everything from our breathing to our heart rate and how we navigate and understand stress (Gibbons, 2019). 

• The ANS can be thought of in two parts: the sympathetic nervous system and the parasympathetic nervous system. 

Sympathetic Nervous System (SNS): Our bodies’ fight or flight response that activates when we perceive a threat. It prepares our body by increasing our heart-rate, blood pressure, and by releasing adrenaline. 

Parasympathetic Nervous System (PNS): Our bodies’ at rest and digest. After a stressful situation, this system allows our body to slow and restore balance. 

ANS and the Severance Department: Our Bodies’ Aren’t Separate

Our ANS plays a big role in our bodies response to stress and furthers the importance of strengthening the mind-body connection. In Severance, characters who’ve undergone the medical procedure are only mentally compartmentalizing their lives. This means that if either the innie or the outie experiences a significant amount of stress or trauma —it will show up in the body for both of them. 

If the fight or flight response gets triggered for the innie at work, their outie will feel the effects of that in their body too. One could even argue that being severed doubles the stress, exacerbated by the fact that neither personality can remember what happens to the other. 

When we start to factor in mind-body connection, including how our autonomic nervous system plays a role, the curtain gets pulled back a bit more, and we see that ‘work-life balance’ for the characters in Severance is merely a mirage. 

Practical Ways to Cultivate an Embodied Life

Our bodies are central to our mental health, when we are living in ways that are embodied or simply, being in tune with the way our body feels throughout the day, we are more likely to engage in the kind of emotional regulation that activates the parasympathetic nervous system — when we are recalibrating and at rest. 

This is easier said than done and it takes practice. It’s a normal thing to want to compartmentalize, run away, or hide from our problems/feelings and a large part of that is societal conditioning to value productivity. 

One of the ways we can practice becoming more embodied is to give ourselves permission to exist, be, and/or live slower but with more intention. This is where somatic interventions like box breathing, grounding exercises, physical activity, or meditations can help by bringing us back into the present moment and creating an awareness of our body to develop a more holistic approach to our healing.

Further Reading on Trauma, Stress, and Embodiment
Invitations for further study

Bodies you can mirror when being in your own is just too much via Instagram @eroticsofliberation https://www.instagram.com/p/DGLGS6WssSC/?igsh=MWVmODAyM2oyYXBoNg==
Book: The Pain We Carry: Healing from Complex PTSD for People of Color by Natalie Y. Gutiérrez

Podcast: The Meaning of Embodiment, with Prentis Hempill https://www.ted.com/talks/how_to_be_a_better_human_the_meaning_of_embodiment_w_prentis_hemphill

References: 

Pally, R. (1998). Emotional Processing; The mind-body connection. The International journal of psycho-analysis, 79(2), 349.

Gibbons, C. H. (2019). Basics of autonomic nervous system function. Handbook of clinical neurology, 160, 407-418.

About the Author: 

Maryam is a Registered Clinical Counsellor at Decipher. She is currently taking new clients! If you like to explore themes in tv, media, or literature and how it relates to your life or the different things you may be going though, she may be a good fit. 

Interested in exploring work-life balance and embodiment through therapy? Book a session with Maryam today—available online and in person in so-called Vancouver, BC.

notes by Linda Lin, RCC, CCC, RCAT

Q: “How are you doing things differently than what you were taught in grad school?”

Therapy is political.
I can’t separate therapy from social justice anymore: if one group is not free, all of us aren’t free. True freedom cannot exist in a society where some groups face oppression, discrimination, or limited rights.

Liberation-based healing
…is hard to reframe and unlearn. The language in which I initially type out from thoughts are wired from years of indoctrinated academia from psychology where it centers on people’s struggles, suffering, pain points, deeply rooted in colonization, pathologizing and problem-solving, rather than recognizing systemic oppression or honouring the wisdom and agency people already have and need from community and care.

Re-indigenizing.
I am slowly digesting that most of what I learned in grad school about the field of psychology is deeply appropriated from Indigenous, Eastern, African ancestral practices…eg. maslow’s hierarchy of needs (Blackfoot people) (Yoga: India, commodified into a fitness trend; focusing mainly on physical postures (asanas) without the spiritual or philosophical teaching that are core to its practice; EFT (chinese acupuncture); Mindfulness based cognitive therapy: and Mindfulness-based stress reduction draw from Zen Buddhism and Vipassana meditation; ACT: eastern practices: buddhist philosophy, mindfulness and acceptance; Somatic therapies: Indigenous healing traditions- body-mind connections; peter levine even discusses spending extensive time in Africa, pulling from some areas of chinese medicine)

I think of harm and repair differently.
Rooting in anti-carceral practices and harm-reduction approaches when it comes to supporting those who need immediate care and oversurveilled groups: seeking alternatives (community-based) interventions, pod mapping, Grassroots organizations/resources, care planning collaborating with folks I work with and their loved ones are involved instead of involving authorities to reduce retraumatization and systemic harm; ongoing informed consent and advocating; support after reporting/note taking, ethical reflection through the intersectional pieces at play: critical examination of our role as the ‘mandated reporter’ within systems of power and control.

On repair.
Healing also includes addressing the harm caused to clients. Academia/grad programs don’t teach us how to repair in ways where we address the systems that affect us; where we stay in the middle with folks: to stay in connection, and birth a new cycle that isn’t violent. This is different from fixing/solving; it’s a deep embodying of the impact from institutional systems that exist, races and identities, kin based violence have harmed us.

Q: “How is being a therapist at this point in time different from what has come before?”

Saying no to ‘therapy hats’.
I’ve realized there’s no such thing as a ‘therapist hat.’ I no longer wear multiple ‘hats’ to separate my roles in and out of the therapy room. This shift has helped me show up authentically—both with my clients and my loved ones. It’s also allowed me to align with my living ethics, ensuring the work I do feels liberating rather than stifling or oppressive.

Professionalism vs. Competence is ever-changing in online therapy.
The landscape of online therapy is constantly evolving, especially when balancing professionalism and competence:

• Professionalism involves adherence to ethical guidelines, maintaining boundaries, and presenting oneself in ways that foster trust and credibility in a therapeutic context.

• Competence focuses on a therapist's ability to effectively address clients’ diverse needs, requiring ongoing professional development, recognizing limitations, and seeking supervision when necessary.

In my practice, transparency is key. I focus on supporting underrepresented groups through community care, addressing systemic issues in the therapy field like policing and mandated reporting. Guided by ethics and social justice, I try my best through a harm reduction approach to ensure therapy is effective and rooted in care and connection.

Transparency and shared identities and values in the therapy room.
Therapy isn’t neutral. Many clients value transparency to ensure their therapist’s values and identity align with their own. It’s not just about visible traits—for instance, I’m a fair-skinned, medium-sized East Asian, able-bodied, and femme-presenting individual. Beyond these, I am a first-generation immigrant, born in this city with Mandarin as my first language, neurodivergent, living with complex PTSD, vegan, and demisexual. When seeking out my own therapist, I prioritize someone who “gets it,” who doesn’t just validate but can advocate for me, and is committed to creating a better world for all of us.

Therapy lingo has become less stigmatized, but weaponized.
The normalization of therapy language in daily life is a sign of progress in reducing mental health stigma; however increased use of therapy language comes with unintended consequences like how people may misuse therapy terms to control in conflicts or undermine others, making emotionally manipulative statements sound like legitimate boundaries or justifying hurtful behaviour as “self-care.”

Weaponized therapy language can obscure personal accountability. Phrases like "that's my boundary" or "you're projecting" can shut down meaningful dialogue, potentially preventing resolution or deeper understanding and curiosity for connection and repair.

Rationalizing is not as needed bc the culture does that enough: rational processing vs. Feeling processing; going back to listening to our body and embodying values, hope, change is what I see many of us needing right now.

Recent shifts in social justice and Empathy

Over the past 5 years, we’ve witnessed climate change crises, movements like #MeToo, Black Lives Matter, the Covid-19 pandemic, and the surge in fat liberation and HAES. We’ve seen the impact of systemic issues like greed, environmental justice, and the dark history behind Indigenous communities. From Roe v. Wade to the exposure of the entertainment industry complex, these events have sparked empathy. However, true solidarity requires more than just words—it's about living ethics through actions, not just blackout posts. I hope the therapy field can move towards one that actually protects us and keeps us safe.

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from our November newsletter, written by Linda Lin, RCC, CCC, RCAT

In my previous blog post on generational diaspora, I mentioned I was visiting my mother’s homeland, China, for the first time in over a decade! It took me a few weeks to sit with this journey before writing about it.

This trip involved much more emotional processing than rational processing. Feeling our emotions in this way can be challenging, and from my experience in the therapy room, it often only comes after we’ve built enough trauma-informed language and awareness.

What’s the difference? Rational processing is structured and analytical, focused on collecting information and making critical deductions about what happened. Feeling processing, however, is experiential—it’s about listening to and working with what comes up, viscerally. It’s when we start noticing signs that have been there all along: sensations in our breath, a gnawing in our gut, the energy we pick up, and a pull toward creating new, supportive cycles for our body.

Feeling lost? I was—and probably still am. Words didn't come easily to describe this deeply sensory experience. Here are some emerging themes as I sat on the images I created from my trip:

Chapter 1: The play.

The impacts of historical imperial violence are complex, and when passed down through ancestral lineage, it lands differently from person-to-person in different points in their lives…yet they feel familiar. 

As a Chinese person born outside of China, I found it challenging to fully embody the audience's cultural resistance. This surprised me, considering I feel deeply in other spaces. It prompted me to reflect on what I may have internalized from the West—and how numb I must've felt during the play. This numbness might hint at open wounds, unprocessed grief, and the overwhelming sensation of feeling too much without a concrete anchor for my intersecting identities.

To all the children of immigrants navigating multiple cultures and facing relational tensions due to generational cultural gaps—how are you all holding up?

Everything is political - including my identity.

Identity conflicts have felt especially confusing throughout the trip. The harbouring of internalized sinophobia stemming from Western political narratives about China feels practically acceptable in today’s world (& with elections in the atmosphere). Unfortunately and to no surprise, I encountered a lack of engagement and curiosity about my trip from some friends. 

These encounters have prompted me to reflect deeply on my own journey with internalized sinophobia. Internalized racism functions as a product of unresolved trauma—a cycle of harm and violence rooted in politically engineered oppression.

The layers of kin-based harm and wounds of what could’ve been.

So I found out from my trip that my partner’s extended family members love each other, like sincerely. It's like the kind of love bell hooks talked about in her book, all about love. The kind of love with all 7 components: care, affection, recognition, respect, commitment, and trust, honesty and open communication. They've got a 75-person WeChat group, more than half of the group located in the city dine together every weekend and near 90-year-olds would keep the vibrant energy by playing mahjong into the early hours. They welcomed us with open arms, unconditional warmth and support. 

A few days later, I visited my mother’s side in a different province after 20 years and I was struck by anxiety and generational cycles playing out before me. I gave myself permission to bawl, allowing space to grapple with parts of myself that felt wronged by the stark contrasts in family dynamics and kinship.

It began to dawn on me that the heart of emotional processing wasn’t just about healing; it is about connection. 

Connection and care for the younger versions of myself, connection to parts of my culture and identity I want to keep discovering, and connection to kin who, in their imperfect ways, still attempt to show up for each other.

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from our October newsletter, written by Linda Lin, RCC, CCC, RCAT

I’ll be out of the office this month as I embark on a trip to my mother's motherland, China. While I’d love to call it my own motherland, it doesn’t quite feel like that yet.

The definition of "motherland" is "the country of one's birth or origin, often with an emotional or cultural connection." For me, the emotional bond isn’t as deep as I wish it were, and I often wonder if my experiences could be called diasporic, since I wasn’t born there, nor do I speak in their exact tonality, regional dialect, or use their proverbs and slang. I have a feeling this trip will give me an opportunity to explore and hopefully build that connection to my generational diaspora.

If someone were to ask me, "What does generational diaspora feel like?"

What's coming up for me is:
• It feels more like a journey when I visit than a vacation or a break.
• Even though I can speak the language, it's still considered foreign.
• Even though I want to feel connected to the people and my extended family, it still feels foreign.
• Missing kinship: Is there anyone here who truly gets me?
• To be honest, there’s general anxiety with every interaction: What if I feel let down by my race? What if I don’t fully understand their tonality and intentions? Do I really know the culture if I haven’t spent time here?
• Because separation from the land is such a complex struggle: Can it even be called diaspora when I was born elsewhere?

Interestingly, 'motherland' can also mean a place with significant ancestral importance, even if it’s not where you were born. In that sense, I hope to find a deeper connection to my roots during this journey.

Realistically, two weeks may not be enough to fully connect with deep ancestral wisdom or break generational cycles. However, I hope this trip will serve as a catalyst, helping me reflect on decolonization and immerse myself in processing aspects of my generational diaspora.

A creative practice I will be tapping into during my trip as someone who is processing aspects of my generational diaspora…

I recognize that, as a child of “immigrants,” my parents didn’t relocate by choice but out of necessity. Displacement and forced migration are central to how their story unfolded. I know this will show up in my body as I engage with the spaces I visit.

Whenever I have the capacity to recognize an embodied generational and historical wound coming up, I will be choosing to breathe into it as a practice. This means not trying to change it and practicing curiosity about this feeling.

When I visit places or have conversations with extended family and locals, I’ll pause and tune into how my body feels. These sensations—whether they evoke belonging, disconnection, yearning, or unease—will be important to notice.

I plan to translate these sensations into intuitive sketches, abstract drawings, or simple colour fields in my journal as a form of documentation (art as therapy if you will because I know that art is healing) in the next blog post. Weaving together the past and present will help me process my feelings around belonging and displacement.

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