Microcuts

Written by Mrinal Gokhale 

I’m standing in a line of ten across the wall on the mats. Two Jiu-Jitsu instructors are across, demonstrating the move of the day. I am near my usual partner, who is my friend. My body tenses as I hear, “Grab a partner, and let’s roll!”

My partner and I exchange nods and get “rolling.” So, why did I get tense every time I heard that phrase for four years in class? I didn’t know the answer.

I look good on paper...and I’d like to think pictures. A college degree, two published books, a full-time job, several Instagram followers, and an Adverse Childhood Experience (ACE) score of just two or three.   

I tell others’ stories as a former journalist and as an author. So, what’s mine—  the story underneath a late-diagnosed Autistic woman who is a passionate advocate for mental health and neurodiversity?

A Just Chance Encounter

My journey in therapy started at 20, but my mental health journey started long before. It consisted of academic and social-emotional learning challenges lacking the language or framework to self-advocate. Even after years in talk therapy, I always felt something more needed work, but I could never put my finger on what. EMDR intrigued me, but I told myself for years that I didn’t suffer extreme trauma anyway.

But then I met a late-diagnosed ADHDer who used EMDR to process her childhood bullying memories. She said that many relatives, schoolteachers, former supervisors, and peers brought her down over many years. Consequently, she developed many negative self-beliefs that followed her into adulthood despite having wonderful people in her life. That’s when I knew I had to try EMDR.

During my free EMDR consultation, I stated that neuropsychiatric testing suggested I have a low non-verbal comprehension profile, but an above-average verbal processing score. I’ve always been a highly verbal learner. One of my few good grade-school memories included being praised for my spelling, reading, and writing abilities.

I told my provider that the idea of shifting my eyes while visualizing a bad memory — without verbal cues, concrete solutions, or homework — felt too abstract. In one session, she asked how I am at my “worst” and asked me to pick from a list of adjectives. In another, she asked me to pick a “negative self-belief” from a list that I feel most frequently, even if I know it’s not logically true. I picked “I am incompetent” and “I am unlikeable.”

She asked about my earliest memory associated with both statements. For the first statement, I chose the second grade, when my father would drive me to school after hours to pick up homework that I left behind a lot. For the second statement, I identified having difficulty finding partners for class projects. That experience “woke up” when I made it to the mats.

After several talk sessions, my therapist said that she felt my experiences were too complex to address in talk therapy alone and recommended I try EMDR. First, we’d list all memories from child through adulthood linked to the negative self-beliefs. 

How the Past Lives in the Present

The body does not track time; it keeps the score. Sound familiar? According to Dr. Bessel van der Kolk (The Body Keeps the Score), the emotional brain reacts to stimuli in a split second based on past stored information, unlike the “logical” side of the brain. That said, hearing “find a partner” made me anxious since age six…and apparently into adulthood.

Before eye movement sessions, my therapist asked what “visual snapshot” I had when it came to seeking partners. I told her I’d sit or stand around, waiting to be approached as students paired up. The sets on those memories took me on a mental train ride to grade school, then wandered into the recent jiu-jitsu years, helping me make the clear past-present connection.

In another session, my therapist brought up the quote “a thousand micro-cuts equal a macro-cut.” She also explained that traumas that don’t activate nightmares, flashbacks, and panic attacks go to the back of the brain, as an implicit memory. The buildup can cause dissociation, avoidance, passivity, perfectionism, people pleasing, or a “fawn” response.

Dr. Judith Harper coined the terms 'big-T' and 'small-t' trauma. Big-Ts include events that directly threaten safety, like assault or war. Small-Ts are subtler, like financial or interpersonal difficulties or verbal abuse. The chronic buildup can be just as impactful. It’s not about whether a diagnostic criterion labels your experience as a trauma; it’s about whether your nervous system does so.

The Downfall of Talk Therapy

I’d get asked during sessions what the “worst” part of bullying memories entailed. I’d often answer, “I didn’t speak up”. This struggle carried into adulthood. No past therapy would help, including a therapy group that roleplayed the use of “I” messages.

My therapist critiques talk therapy because it doesn’t look at the root cause of the present troubles. Most therapists ask clients, “How are you feeling lately?” or “Why are you stressed lately?” and assign coping techniques or exposure therapy as homework. When sessions stop, so does the homework, making skills hard to maintain.

How Things Changed

In the first month of sessions, I applied for a swim instructor job…after years of telling myself I’d make a bad teacher. That same month, I tried karaoke for the first time. I also attended a local festival solo without feeling on edge. I nudged myself to say “hello” to some old acquaintances I ran into there. In the past, I would have shyly looked away. I remember that night well. I felt stimulated and fulfilled. It reminded me of my Wellbutrin use from years ago; I not only became more productive at work, but I was told I became more “alert” and “social”. Socializing made me feel rewarded rather than burned out. The difference is that I could stop EMDR without losing progress.

About a month later, I went on a spontaneous nighttime park run after feeling a rush of energy on a walk. I always avoided walking alone in the dark in deserted areas. Even in populated streets at night, I feared for my safety. I remembered a video by Psych2Go, “Nine Uncomfortable Signs That You Are Healing.” One of these signs was “you’re doing things out of your comfort zone.” And that’s one of my most prominent signs.

Months later, I began taking public transit: something I’d not done since college. My therapist explained that EMDR unfreezes the time space continuum, helping you to integrate the past and present self. Sometimes, though, I’d have perseveration spirals following sessions along with occasionally unexplained sadness. My therapist compared it to trapped steam releasing from a rice cooker.

EMDR stimulates both brain hemispheres, awakening trauma dormant in the nervous system. Some feel intimidated at having to visualizing past traumas, but I didn’t find it too intense. I did, however, struggle to answer what emotion the memory brings about, and where in the body it’s felt, a common Autistic and Alexithymia struggle.

Laying Past Burdens to Rest

“Desensitizing” teenage memories took more time than all others. I went to the same school for grades 7-12. I was picked on the most in middle school, and then occasionally in high school. I was relieved to leave my town and make real friends in college. I still wondered how my peers were doing over the years. I even drove to my high school reunion in 2019 but chickened out and went to a bar next door.

Occasional run-ins during college would reveal that high school dynamics carry over. But as more years passed, I knew intellectually that people mature. I did not regularly think about high school. Still, I could not understand why I could remember past school incidents with ease, yet my bullies probably never think about me.

As sessions revealed, leaving my town didn’t fix the wound. Receiving the message that I’m unlikeable contributed to avoidance as an adult and feeling obligated to “make” people like me.  Every session triggered vivid but neutral dreams about my peers. The next day, I’d have elaborate fantasies about and even acknowledge their positive qualities. With the help of AI, I realized I was finally seeing them as “whole people”, rather than just hurtful people. I eventually built up the courage to walk through my school…and did so with relatively low anxiety.

I value logical clarity, even if I admittedly intellectualize my feelings. AI helped with dream analysis and taught me about bullying psychology. My biggest takeaways: mob mindset is typically worst in middle school, but kids focus on themselves as they get older throughout high school, even if cliques remain. Some people bully to avoid getting bullied, or to elevate or maintain their social standing. I was often told I need to loosen up to people “joking around” with me, which AI and my therapist labeled as victim blaming.  

In the last bullying memory session, my mind recalled times when I’d sometimes laugh or stand silent at someone being teased. I also asked myself, “What type of a bully could I have made?” AI’s interpretation: I had social survival instincts, too. And realizing I “could have been a bully” could mean I was moving out of victim mentality. After that session, I had one or two dreams about high school, which have since almost disappeared.

Concluding the “desensitization” process in EMDR means replacing a negative self-belief with a positive one. Logically, I chose “I am likeable” to replace “I’m unlikeable.” During sets, my therapist would ask, “How true does that feel in your body?”

Honestly, it doesn’t feel 100% true. Studies suggest that Autistic individuals are often perceived as less likable. I’ve observed that I’m better received when I mask. But I take cold comfort in this: even if studies show Autistics are perceived as “less likeable,” I’ve found neurodivergent friends who like me without the mask. I’ve also learned that unmasking doesn’t have to be the final goal; sometimes, safety matters more than being “real.”

My sessions are only occasional now. I don’t know what the rest of the journey will look like. There’s a saying — ‘you have to feel to heal.’ Only after EMDR do I finally understand what that means.

About the Author | Mrinal Gokhale is a writer, author, and speaker based in Wisconsin. Growing up one of few South Asian children in a subarb of the country's most segregated city, Mrinal witnessed little representation of her community in the media and in her circles beyond the model minority myth. Her writing covers mental health, neurodiversity, disability, and trauma in the South Asian and Asian American diasporas.

Her interest in the human brain was sparked by her own late diagnosis compounded by cultural stigma, gender, race, and the model minority myth growing up. Becoming an author showed her that terms like "neurodivergent", "disabled", and "mentally ill" can coexist alongside being a South Asian, giving her the greatest sense of neurodivergent and cultural pride.