Why Tapping Helped Me More Than Therapy Ever Did

...and how I finally freed the part of me that was trapped for years

I used to sit in therapy and tell stories.
Over and over.
About my mom. About my childhood. About the way I always had to be the calm one. The fixer.
I cried sometimes. I journaled a lot. I understood the what and the when and the who.

But it didn’t change me.

It didn’t help me see my patterns…
the way I micromanaged everything to feel safe.
the way I twisted myself to be good, useful, likable.
the way I swallowed my anger until it came out sideways.

I just kept talking.
Like re-reading the same chapter of a book and calling it healing.
I thought that was what awareness looked like.

But I never felt it leave my body.
I never felt the grief.
I just kept living the same story with new language.

The truth is:
Therapy never helped me feel the rawness of what it meant to grow up with an alcoholic mother.
It never helped me touch the fear I lived with.
The constant tension.
The way my little nervous system never got to rest.

I could describe it all. I could cry about it.
But it was still in me.
Lodged in my chest.
Wired into my bones.
Buzzing in my solar plexus like a tiny trapped alien
curled in the dark, bracing for the next outburst,
desperate to break free
but frozen in fear.

That’s how I carried it for years.
And I didn’t even realize it.

It wasn’t until I found tapping… and screaming… and parts work…
until I let myself throw a grown woman tantrum on the floor,
until I let my body rage and weep and finally feel safe enough to let go, that I realized how much I’d been holding.
That I wasn’t just hurt.
I was still scared.
Still trying to stay small and perfect to survive.

No therapist had ever told me:

“It’s okay to scream. It’s okay to be messy. It’s okay to go all the way into the thing you’ve spent your whole life avoiding.”

Tapping helped me meet the parts of me that therapy just analyzed.

Not from the neck up.
Not with big words and trauma timelines.
But from the body.
From the breath.
From the shaking, trembling, clenching, holding place.

That’s where I met the little girl in me who never felt safe.
Not intellectually.
But viscerally.

And I finally said to her:

“You don’t have to hold this anymore.”

This wasn’t graceful or pretty.
It wasn’t a soft awakening with incense and angel cards.
It was loud. Messy. Ugly crying.
It was grief that stole my breath.
It was shame that almost made me quit.

But it was real.

Now when I tap, I’m not “doing a technique.”
I’m reclaiming every part of me that had to hold it all alone.

And I don’t care if it looks weird or sounds silly.
Because it works.

It moves what talk therapy couldn’t even touch.

If you’ve ever felt like you’ve done all the work and still feel stuck,
If you still cry every time you talk about your past,
If your body still flinches even when your brain “understands”...

You’re not broken.
You’re just not done feeling it.
And it’s not too late.

Start here.
Start with one breath.
Start with one round of tapping.
Start with that one part of you that never got to finish her tantrum.

Let her speak.
Let her move.
Let her be held.

This is how we come home.
Not by fixing
but by finally feeling.

Want support?
Try my free tapping reset. It's not a fix. It’s a doorway.
https://www.thetappingmama.ca/guide

Or book a session with me if you’re ready to meet your parts, your rage, your grief—and stay.

You’re not too much.
You’re just finally telling the truth.