When Feedback Hits the Body

I recently had the opportunity to collaborate with Alsana, an Eating Disorder facility to offer a free training on hormones and mood… and over 1,000 people registered for the event!!!

Even typing that still feels a little surreal. I know not all 1,000 attended live—but the number of who showed up on their lunch break wasn’t the actual point. It represented interest, curiosity, and a pull toward this work that, for a long time, felt like it lived in much smaller rooms.

And yet…the actual experience of delivering the training….was just me sitting in my office. Alone. Talking to a screen.

A VERY non-reactive screen.

A screen that didn’t nod, smile, or give any indication whatsoever that what I was saying was landing. But because this was being broadcast, it was just me, my slides, and a small but very real concern that I might somehow be passionately teaching…while on mute.

And still—I loved every minute of it!

Because I know that when I teach clinicians, I know the ripple effect can get even larger! The education and awareness doesn’t stop with the one person who was in the training. It moves into rooms I’ll never be in, conversations I’ll never hear, clients I’ll never meet.

And 1,000 + was the largest ripple I’ve had so far during a presentation!!

When the Feedback Comes In

The training itself went really well. It was one hour—which, if you know how I teach, is… ambitious. I did have to move quickly toward the end because I talked a little too much earlier in the presentation about PMDD and Divorce Day. But….I also know I was able to get a meaningful amount of information across in that hour. Enough for people to connect some dots and walk away with something they could start using right away….Tracking. .

I left feeling proud.

And then, later that day, I opened the evaluations.

At first, it felt incredible in a very grounded, “this is actually landing” kind of way.

There were comments about how informative the training was, how it would help clinicians and their clients, how great I did at fitting it so much info into a short time, and one that stood out in my heart in more of a personal way—someone sharing how meaningful it was to see another social worker teaching on this topic and to know how many people this was already reaching. That one landed differently. It wasn’t just about the content. It was about connection.

I was feeling pretty darn good about myself!

And then, almost immediately, the tone shifted a bit.

Right next to those comments were a few pointing out that I spoke too quickly, that it was hard to keep up, and that the hour felt rushed.

None of them were unkind. And honestly, they weren’t even wrong. But what stood out wasn’t the comment itself.

It was the shift in my body.

That subtle tightening. That drop. That moment where my attention moved from this is going well to what do I need to fix for next time?

Same screen. Same moment. Very different internal experience.

Lions, Tigers, and Bears… But What If There’s More?

This is something I talk about often in my work.

We’re taught to understand the nervous system through obvious danger—fight, flight, freeze. Lions, tigers, bears.

But most of us aren’t navigating that kind of threat in our daily lives.

We’re navigating something quieter and more constant: perception, belonging, evaluation, and the possibility of being misunderstood or pushed out of the group. Historically, that mattered for survival, so our systems adapted to track relational risk just as closely as physical danger.

Which means moments like this—being evaluated, being seen—can activate something deeper than logic would suggest.

RSD, and Making It Make Sense

For a long time, I didn’t have language for why feedback could land so strongly. I just assumed I was being “too sensitive” like I was often told several times throughout my life. Or that I needed to “get better at not caring what other people think.”

Learning about Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria changed that for me. It helped me understand that this isn’t a flaw, I”m not “too sensitive”—my nervous system is just even more highly attuned to cues of belonging and rejection.

And…it doesn’t just show up in personal relationships.

It shows up here. In professional spaces. In evaluations. In moments where your work is visible.

At the same time, what became clear to me in this experience is that it isn’t only dysphoria. There was also pride, connection, and meaning happening alongside it.

Both are true.

Even if one seemed to take over my system a bit quicker.

When Thoughts Hit the Body

The next day, I was sitting on my yoga mat using a HeartMath device, which gives real-time feedback on how regulated your nervous system is.

As I brought in the affirming comments, I could feel my body soften. My heart rate slowed. My system settled.

Then I brought in the critical ones.

And just like that, my body shifted. Heart rate up. Coherence down.

Same body. Same moment. Different thoughts.

As much as I talk about body-led mental health, this was a clear reminder that the loop goes both ways. Thoughts land in the body, and if I had followed that thread all the way down into a spiral, it would have been a much harder ride back.

Working With It

This is where the work actually lives—not in eliminating the reaction, but in knowing what to do with it.

For me, that means understanding how RSD shows up, using tools like HeartMath, and giving myself enough space to zoom out. It also means supporting my system in very real ways—medications, supplements, prioritizing sleep, and paying attention to where I am in my hormonal cycle, because that absolutely impacts how things land.

That’s not something I hide.

That’s how I stay resourced.

Balancing the Scale

So I did something simple.

I added it to a list.

A Connection Affirmation List—a place where I collect the comments, the moments, the small snapshots in time that feel meaningful. The ones that make me smile. The ones that remind me why I do this work and why I keep showing up.

Not to cancel out the critiques. But to sit next to them.

Because if I leave it up to my brain, it will highlight the 5% that felt uncomfortable and treat it like the headline.

This list helps me remember the other 95%.

• This mattered.

• This landed.

• This is moving forward beyond you.

So when the harder comments come in—and they will—they don’t have the same power to pull me under.

And when I zoom out—when I step out of the individual trees and look at the forest—I can see the whole picture.

And that’s what allows me to keep going.