In my healing journey this year, one tool has quietly become a profound anchor for me: EFT — Emotional Freedom Technique. On the surface, it may look like little more than tapping on your body with your fingers but beneath the seeming simplicity lies a deep somatic wisdom: a connection that begins to bridge the expanse that so often exists between our emotions, our body, + the nervous system. Often called tapping, EFT is a healing modality that integrates elements of energy psychology, cognitive awareness, + somatic (body-based) work + simply put, it involves gently tapping on specific meridian (acupuncture) points while focusing attention on an emotional issue, a memory, or a belief you wish to shift into a new consciousness.
EFT is rooted in the field of energy psychology. Its modern form was popularized by Gary Craig in the 1990s, building on ideas from Thought Field Therapy + acupuncture meridian science. The principle is that unresolved emotional distress or trauma can create disruptions or “blocks” in the body’s energy system. It grew out of the understanding that emotions don’t just live in the mind but also linger in the body, the nervous system, + the subtle energy that moves through us long after it originated. By tapping on certain points while bringing attention to how we feel or want to feel, EFT helps restore balance to that flow.
It’s somatic — which means it works through the body, not around it. Not in avoidance of it — but with it. That’s what I find instrumental actually; especially as someone who spent so many hours (+ way too much money) in more talk-therapy style settings over the years. With EFT there’s no trying to think your way out of how you feel; it lets your body lead. It’s the wisdom of the lived experience.
When I first started using it, I was in a low place. Honestly, I didn’t expect much, but somehow had an innate faith in its power. Very quickly something about it — the rhythm, the tenderness, the honesty of saying out loud that which I’d normally try to silence — began to land in such a powerful way. Where once I’d been trying desperately to convince myself of therapy, here, it turned to a knowing. A knowing it was working. Even when the results hadn’t yet quite come to full fruition. But there’s this moment, as you tap + acknowledge what’s there — “Even though I feel anxious,” “Even though I feel not enough,” “Even though I feel scared” — where the body exhales. It’s as if it says, finally, you’re listening to what I’m trying to tell you.
EFT has been described as a kind of psychological acupressure, helping calm the nervous system + regulate the emotional charge around certain thoughts, traumas, emotional states, or memories. But what feels more accurate to me is that it’s a bridge — between the head + the heart, the mind + the body. When words alone feel too sharp or unreachable, EFT softens the jagged edges.
It’s also something you can bring with you in the real world too, in to your life outside the sessions with your therapist. Sometimes I use it now alone. I find myself unintentionally drawn toward the gentle tapping of my clavicle as overwhelm settles on the horizon of my mind. Or quietly, before bed. It’s become one of those things that helps me come home to myself — like a breath, a pause, a way to say: I’m here. I’m listening. I’m safe.
What I’ve learned through EFT is that healing isn’t always about changing the story. Sometimes it’s about accepting what is, holding it gently, + letting the body catch up to the mind’s understanding. The tapping, in its simple repetition, helps regulate the nervous system — something I’ve needed more than anything else.
It’s wild how something that looks so small can hold so much truth. Such comfort + benefit. If you ever feel like your emotions get trapped somewhere between your chest + your throat, or that your nervous system is trying to speak a language you can’t quite translate, try EFT. It doesn’t need to be perfect, it doesn’t need to make sense. You just start tapping, acknowledging, feeling, + letting your body show you what it already knows.
Sometimes the most profound healing comes not from doing more, but from listening differently — to the quiet wisdom already within us.
