His eyes did what his nights no longer could

The crash lasted only two seconds. A junction, a bonnet appearing out of nowhere, the noise. Thomas walked away with bruises. But three months later, the scene was still replaying every night, always at the same moment, always with the same jolt awake at 3 a.m. His doctor had ruled out any physical injury. The film, though, kept on running.

After a violent event, the brain is normally supposed to archive it: turn the raw experience into a dated, filed, finished memory. Much of that sorting happens during sleep, particularly in the phases when the eyes dart rapidly beneath the eyelids. When the shock is too intense, the sorting fails. The event stays in working memory, unfiled, and the brain plays it on a loop, by night and by day, hoping to finally digest it.

Eye movement therapy, made famous by EMDR and developed into several approaches, builds on this natural mechanism. In a session, while you evoke the event within a safe setting, I guide your eyes through precise sequences. This stimulation seems to reopen the sorting window: the memory gets refiled, its emotional charge subsides. The event finally becomes what it should have been from the start: the past. I'm certified in eye movement therapy by Dr Danie Beaulieu's IMPACT Academy, and it's a tool I integrate into my brief therapy sessions, after the anamnesis. What still strikes me, after all these years, is how quickly a night can repair itself once the sorting is finally done.

One important point: this is not about plunging back into the horror. The work is done gently, without reliving the event head-on, and only when there are no contraindications. Many people feel relief from the very first session, and the process keeps working naturally over the following month: nights often repair themselves in stages — one less awakening, then two, then whole nights through. This approach aims at wellbeing and doesn't replace medical care if your condition requires it.

If the images come back at night, don't lie there fighting in the dark. Sit up, switch on a soft light, and breathe with a lengthened exhale: 4 seconds in, 6 to 8 seconds out. You're signalling to your body that the scene is not happening again. It doesn't file the memory away, but it quiets the alarm while you wait for the real sorting. And write down what you notice: those details will be precious during the anamnesis.

A shock, recent or old, that still steals your nights — that can be worked on. Find out how a session unfolds on the brief therapy page.