We’ve been through hell and back.
As young parents.
As partners.
As two people who had no idea what we were really saying “yes” to all those years ago.
As partners.
As two people who had no idea what we were really saying “yes” to all those years ago.
Nearly 20 years together—and there were times we didn’t know if we’d make it.
We’ve stared down the face of divorce.
We’ve been inches from walking away from it all.
We’ve stared down the face of divorce.
We’ve been inches from walking away from it all.
But God.
God has an order.
And we — like many others — did things out of order.
We rushed.
We skipped steps.
We made decisions from pain, from programming, from survival.
And we paid for it—in resentment, distance, misunderstanding, and deep struggle.
We skipped steps.
We made decisions from pain, from programming, from survival.
And we paid for it—in resentment, distance, misunderstanding, and deep struggle.
Because the truth is: we each came into this relationship carrying our own inner wounds.
Our childhoods.
Our unmet needs.
Our unspoken fears.
Our silent expectations.
Our childhoods.
Our unmet needs.
Our unspoken fears.
Our silent expectations.
We brought with us the stories we were told (or not told) about love, gender roles, marriage, sex, family.
We absorbed messages from society that said we had to perform instead of feel, succeed instead of slow down, keep it all together, even when everything inside was falling apart.
We absorbed messages from society that said we had to perform instead of feel, succeed instead of slow down, keep it all together, even when everything inside was falling apart.
No one really taught us how to be in partnership.
How to repair ruptures.
How to hold space for each other’s pain while still honoring our own.
How to repair ruptures.
How to hold space for each other’s pain while still honoring our own.
We had to learn all of that the hard way.
But still — we fought.
Fought for us.
Fought for love.
Fought for our family.
Fought for love.
Fought for our family.
And today, I can say: I am so damn grateful we did. And continue to do.
Because here’s the truth no one tells you when you’re young and in love:
Marriage is not just romance and milestones.
Marriage is not just romance and milestones.
It’s a soul contract.
It’s late nights in silence after a fight.
It’s forgiving when it’s hard.
It’s choosing to stay even when your body wants to run.
It’s growing… sometimes in opposite directions for a while… and then finding your way back to one another.
It’s late nights in silence after a fight.
It’s forgiving when it’s hard.
It’s choosing to stay even when your body wants to run.
It’s growing… sometimes in opposite directions for a while… and then finding your way back to one another.
Marriage is sacred.
But it’s not always soft.
But it’s not always soft.
There are seasons of loneliness, even when you’re lying in the same bed.
There are days when you don’t recognize the person you married—or the person you’ve become.
There are decisions made in survival mode that ripple into years of repair.
There are days when you don’t recognize the person you married—or the person you’ve become.
There are decisions made in survival mode that ripple into years of repair.
And yet — when both people are willing to show up, look in the mirror, and try again—there can be something so unbreakably beautiful on the other side.
We’re not perfect.
We still bicker.
We still push each other’s buttons.
But underneath all of it — we are each other’s home.
We still bicker.
We still push each other’s buttons.
But underneath all of it — we are each other’s home.
Marriage is not about avoiding the mess.
It’s about loving each other through the mess.
It’s about loving each other through the mess.
It’s about unlearning everything that never served us—
and remembering who we really are.
and remembering who we really are.
It’s about learning to do things in order even if you didn’t get the order right at the start.
If you’re in the thick of it right now… if you're wondering if you’re going to make it, I want to tell you this:
It’s okay to start over — with the same person.
It’s okay to admit you’ve both changed.
It’s okay to learn how to love each other again, differently.
It’s okay to admit you’ve both changed.
It’s okay to learn how to love each other again, differently.
But both people have to fight.
Not against each other—but for each other.
Not against each other—but for each other.
And when you do?
What’s on the other side is not just peace—it’s power.
A bond built through fire.
A friendship rooted in truth.
A friendship rooted in truth.
A home with strong bones.
A love that has been tested—and still stands.
A love that has been tested—and still stands.
So here’s to the ones still in the ring.
To the ones showing up to therapy, to hard conversations, to the vulnerability it takes to heal.
To the ones showing up to therapy, to hard conversations, to the vulnerability it takes to heal.
You’re not failing—you’re becoming.
I love you, Jonny.
Thank you for choosing this fight with me.
I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.
Thank you for choosing this fight with me.
I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.
At the core of every human nervous system are two essential longings:
To be held.
And to be free.
And to be free.
These are not just abstract desires — they’re deeply felt needs, wired into the body from the beginning.
To be held is the need for connection, safety, and secure attachment. It’s the experience of being met emotionally — of having someone stay with you, not abandon or fix you, when you’re vulnerable, tender, or dysregulated.
To be free is the need for authenticity, self-expression, and autonomy. It’s the ability to take up space, speak your truth, and move in your natural rhythm without fear of being punished, rejected, or made small.
Most of us didn’t grow up with both.
Many of us learned we could be held only if we performed, pleased, or stayed “small.”
Or that we could be free only if we disconnected from others to protect our truth.
Many of us learned we could be held only if we performed, pleased, or stayed “small.”
Or that we could be free only if we disconnected from others to protect our truth.
This is where somatic work comes in.
Because the body remembers.
And in relationship, these old patterns surface.
And in relationship, these old patterns surface.
If someone shuts down, lashes out, or goes numb when things get hard — that’s not “bad communication.”
That’s a nervous system doing its best to stay safe.
Without capacity in the body, relationship gets lost.
To build capacity, we must learn to feel safely in connection.
Not just cognitively — but somatically.
Not just cognitively — but somatically.
To stay with sensation.
To breathe through discomfort.
To allow emotion to rise and move without shutting it down.
To breathe through discomfort.
To allow emotion to rise and move without shutting it down.
This is the kind of embodied presence that creates secure love — especially in intimate partnership.
For men, this might look like:
“Can I stay with her emotion without needing to fix or flee?”
“Can I feel her energy rise without collapsing or controlling it?”
“Can I stay regulated in my body, so she can trust hers?”
“Can I stay with her emotion without needing to fix or flee?”
“Can I feel her energy rise without collapsing or controlling it?”
“Can I stay regulated in my body, so she can trust hers?”
For women:
“Can I allow my full emotional truth to surface?”
“Can I trust that I don’t have to shrink or manage him to feel safe?”
“Can I soften and stay open, even when it feels edgy?”
“Can I allow my full emotional truth to surface?”
“Can I trust that I don’t have to shrink or manage him to feel safe?”
“Can I soften and stay open, even when it feels edgy?”
Feeling with each other — in real time — is the medicine.
When we bring co-regulation, nervous system attunement, and emotional permission into the field of love, both people begin to experience a radical truth:
I can be fully held.
I can be completely free.
And I don’t have to choose between the two.
I can be completely free.
And I don’t have to choose between the two.
This is the heart of somatic relationship work.
Not perfection, not control — but presence.
Nervous systems learning to dance with one another.
With care and devotion to the body’s wisdom,
Tovah Petra 🌹
In relationship, capacity is everything. Without it, even the deepest love can get lost in misunderstanding, disconnection, or unmet needs.Capacity is what allows us to stay present in the hard moments — when emotions run high, when wounds get triggered, when the past creeps into the present. It’s what makes love feel safe and secure rather than chaotic or unpredictable. But here’s the truth:
To build capacity, you have to be able to feel.
Feeling your own emotions. Feeling your partner’s emotions. Being willing to sit in the discomfort without numbing, fixing, or fleeing. That’s the work. This is where many relationships hit their edge — because it’s hard to feel, especially when your nervous system is screaming for protection. But if you can learn to stay, to breathe, to stay rooted in your body… you build something unshakable. You build presence. And presence is what creates safety.
For men especially, this is often the initiation:
Can you stay with her feelings without shutting down or making it about you?
Can you trust that you are safe, even when she’s feeling big things?
Can you hold her — not just physically, but emotionally — in that moment?
Can you stay with her feelings without shutting down or making it about you?
Can you trust that you are safe, even when she’s feeling big things?
Can you hold her — not just physically, but emotionally — in that moment?
Because that’s what she wants.
She doesn’t need you to fix it.
She doesn’t need a solution.
She wants to know that you can hold her — in her tenderness, her rage, her sorrow, her joy.
She doesn’t need you to fix it.
She doesn’t need a solution.
She wants to know that you can hold her — in her tenderness, her rage, her sorrow, her joy.
When a woman feels that you can stay with her while she feels, something softens.
She feels safe. Seen. Met.
She can surrender. And the connection between you deepens.
Not because you said the right words or played the perfect role —
but because your capacity to stay made room for her full expression.
She feels safe. Seen. Met.
She can surrender. And the connection between you deepens.
Not because you said the right words or played the perfect role —
but because your capacity to stay made room for her full expression.
This is how love grows: not in the perfect moments, but in the raw, vulnerable ones —
when you stay open, when you stay steady, when you feel with her instead of recoiling.
when you stay open, when you stay steady, when you feel with her instead of recoiling.
Capacity is a muscle. You build it by showing up again and again, with presence and practice.
Because without it, relationship gets lost. But with it?
Relationship becomes the most healing, transformative, and sexy space of all.
Relationship becomes the most healing, transformative, and sexy space of all.
❤️ Tovah Petra
In the world of sexuality, intimacy, and embodiment, we often hear the phrase “safe space.”
And while I deeply value safety, I want to be honest:
I don’t fully align with that term anymore.
And while I deeply value safety, I want to be honest:
I don’t fully align with that term anymore.
Here’s why.
When we enter into erotic work — whether in coaching, community, or relationship — we’re not stepping into a predictable, bubble-wrapped experience. We’re stepping into the unknown. And that takes courage.
In my Somatica practice, I co-create what I call a brave space.
Brave space doesn’t mean reckless. It means real.
"Safe space" can sometimes carry the illusion that we’ll never feel anything hard — that we won’t get uncomfortable, triggered, or challenged.
But true safety isn’t about avoiding discomfort — it’s about knowing we can move through it with support.
In this work, discomfort isn’t a sign that something is wrong. Often, it’s a signal that something true is surfacing — a place that’s been numb, shut down, or guarded for good reason.
The brave space is where we allow that to emerge — slowly, consensually, and with care.
We begin each journey by setting clear agreements for how we’ll be together — in body, mind, and energy. I offer a foundational structure, and then invite you to add your own agreements. This isn’t a one-way street — it’s co-created.
We use constant body check-ins to track what’s happening in real time. There’s no expectation to override your boundaries or push past your edges. Instead, we titrate your experience — letting trust build at the speed of your nervous system.
You don’t have to give your trust away all at once.
In fact, I invite you not to.
In fact, I invite you not to.
Instead, we build it together — slowly, with consistency.
With clear yes’s and empowered no’s.
With ruptures and repair. With tools like Betty Martin’s Wheel of Consent, which helps you discern what you're truly wanting, giving, allowing, or receiving.
If something feels scratchy, “off,” or unclear — I see that as an invitation, not a problem.
You’ll often hear me ask:
“Can we get curious about that edge?”
“Would you like to explore that part with a bit more attention?”
“Would you like to explore that part with a bit more attention?”
You are never forced into anything. But we can learn to stay — gently — with what’s arising.
We build trust through the discomfort, not around it.
True safety isn’t about never feeling hurt.
It’s about knowing that if something goes sideways, we can repair.
It’s about knowing that if something goes sideways, we can repair.
That’s why I believe in relational integrity. If a rupture happens — whether in a session or in life — we don’t have to cancel, collapse, or ghost.
We can name it, feel it, and come back into connection, often stronger than before.
In my practice, brave space means:
- You are not expected to be “fine” all the time.
- Your edges are welcome, not avoided.
- You’re not left alone in discomfort — we move through it together.
- We value repair, presence, and your embodied truth over perfection.
You don’t have to be fearless to explore this work.
You just have to be willing. And willing is more than enough.
With warmth and devotion to your unfolding,
Tovah Petra
Tovah Petra
There’s a quiet truth many of us don't speak aloud… sometimes, it takes everything falling apart for something real to begin.
Maybe it’s the moment your marriage feels irreparable.
Maybe it’s waking up after another night lost to addiction, wondering who you’ve become.
Maybe it’s the heavy, aching loneliness even when you're not alone.
Maybe it’s waking up after another night lost to addiction, wondering who you’ve become.
Maybe it’s the heavy, aching loneliness even when you're not alone.
Whatever form it takes, that “lowest point” can feel like the end. But what if it’s actually a beginning?
We tend to think of transformation as a glow-up, a New Year’s resolution, or a clean break into something shiny and new. But real transformation? It’s messy. It's raw. It often starts in the dark.
Hitting rock bottom strips away everything false. It burns through illusions. You're left face-to-face with your pain, your patterns, your shame—and strangely, your power.
Because when there’s nothing left to lose, you become free to choose. To choose yourself. To choose truth. To choose a different story.
Here’s the part most of us miss… transformation doesn’t just happen in the mind. It happens in the body.
We carry old trauma in our cells. Our nervous systems adapt to chaos, rejection, abandonment. We armor up, disconnect, go numb—until the body says "no more."
Somatic healing—the process of reconnecting with the wisdom and sensations of your body—becomes the bridge back to yourself. When you learn to sit with discomfort rather than flee it, to breathe through the urge to dissociate, to feel without fixing—you begin to heal from the inside out. That’s where intimacy with yourself begins. That’s where everything begins.
When you rebuild trust with your own body, your own truth, your own needs—you stop outsourcing your worth. You stop performing, pleasing, proving. You stop attracting relationships that mirror your wounds instead of your worth. In marriage, this self-intimacy becomes the soil where real connection can grow—not codependency, not silent resentment, but honest, sacred partnership. In addiction recovery, it becomes your anchor. Instead of running from pain, you learn to hold it. You become the safe place you were always seeking. In life, it opens you to a deeper joy. Not the manic highs of achievement or approval, but the quiet joy of being. Being in your body. Being in your truth. Being enough.
If you’re in the darkness now, this is not where your story ends.
Let it break you open.
Let it soften the places that got too hard.
Let it burn away the masks that no longer fit.
Let it soften the places that got too hard.
Let it burn away the masks that no longer fit.
You are not broken. You are being rebuilt.
You are not lost. You are being returned to yourself.
You are not weak. You are on the edge of becoming whole.
You are not lost. You are being returned to yourself.
You are not weak. You are on the edge of becoming whole.
And when you rise—and you will rise—you won’t just have survived.
You’ll have transformed.
You’ll have remembered.
You’ll have reclaimed the most sacred relationship of all… the one with you.
You’ll have remembered.
You’ll have reclaimed the most sacred relationship of all… the one with you.
Somatic Healing Resources to Explore:
- The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel Van Der Kolk
- Waking the Tiger by Peter Levine
- Somatic Experiencing therapy
- Yoga, breath work, and embodied movement practices
If this speaks to you, know this: You are not alone. And you are not too far gone. The way back is already inside you.
Start by breathing.
Start by feeling.
Start by listening.
Start by feeling.
Start by listening.
And then, take one small step toward yourself.
The rest will follow.✨
~Heart Open~
Tovah Petra
