(Why Going Slowly Is Often the Most Powerful Intervention)
There’s a quiet pressure many counsellors feel – even if they don’t name it.
That therapy should go somewhere.
That something should happen.
That emotional release equals progress.
And when clients carry trauma, there can be an added, unspoken belief:
If we don’t access the pain fully, are we really doing the work?
Attachment- and nervous-system-informed practice invites a different understanding.
Because when it comes to developmental trauma, catharsis is not the goal.
Safety is.
And safety is built through titration.
Why “letting it all out” can backfire
Catharsis – the full release of emotion – is often imagined as healing.
And in some contexts, it can be.
But for clients whose nervous systems were shaped by overwhelm, unpredictability, or lack of containment, intense emotional release can feel less like relief and more like danger.
After catharsis, clients may:
- Feel exposed or ashamed
- Become flooded or dissociated
- Struggle to return to baseline
- Avoid the next session altogether
The nervous system hasn’t experienced safety – it’s experienced another loss of control.
So it tightens its defences.
What titration actually means
Titration comes from trauma-informed practice and refers to working with small, manageable amounts of activation, rather than the whole story at once.
In therapy, this might look like:
- Touching an emotion briefly, then returning to the present
- Tracking sensation without amplifying it
- Staying with one feeling rather than opening many
- Pausing when activation rises, rather than pushing through
Titration isn’t avoidance.
It’s precision.
Why the nervous system learns through pacing
Nervous systems learn safety through experience, not explanation.
When clients are allowed to approach difficult material gradually, something important happens:
- They remain present
- They stay connected
- They feel a sense of choice
- They recover more easily
This teaches the nervous system:
I can feel this – and I’m still safe.
That learning is far more transformative than any emotional release.
The therapist’s fear of “not going deep enough”
Many therapists worry that titration means skimming the surface.
Especially when clients have significant trauma histories.
But depth is not measured by intensity.
Depth is measured by integration.
A client who feels a little, stays present, and returns safely has gone much deeper than a client who feels everything and leaves fragmented.
Slow work is not lesser work.
It is often the most ethical work we can do.
When slowing down feels counterintuitive
There are moments when everything in the room feels ready to open.
The client leans forward.
Emotion rises.
The story wants to be told.
And yet, part of the work is noticing:
Can this be held – or does it need pacing?
Titration asks the therapist to tolerate restraint.
To resist urgency.
To trust the process rather than the peak.
This can be surprisingly hard – particularly for therapists who are empathic, responsive, and deeply invested in their clients’ healing.
Safety as the intervention
When therapy is titrated well, clients often report something subtle but significant:
- Feeling steadier between sessions
- Less emotional hangover
- More capacity to reflect
- Fewer crises after “good” work
These are signs the nervous system is integrating rather than bracing.
Change is happening – just not loudly.
A different relationship to progress
Attachment-focused therapy invites us to redefine progress.
Not as breakthrough moments.
Not as emotional release.
But as increased capacity.
Capacity to feel.
Capacity to stay.
Capacity to recover.
Capacity to trust the relationship.
Titration builds capacity.
Catharsis can bypass it.
A reflection to carry forward
You might gently reflect on this in your own work:
- Where do you feel pressure to go further, faster?
- How do you decide when to pause rather than proceed?
- What helps you tolerate slowing down?
In nervous-system-aware therapy, going slowly is not about fear.
It’s about respect – for the pace at which safety is learned.
In the next blog, we’ll turn our attention to the therapist’s internal world – and explore why our own reactions are not obstacles, but vital sources of information.
For now, you might sit with this:
What changes when you trust that safety, not intensity, is what allows healing to take root?
Often, that’s where the deepest work quietly begins.
