Healing Complex Trauma Through Authentic Relationship

David Schlosz • May 20, 2025

An Interview with Whitney Sutherland, LPC.

I recently had the opportunity to sit down with Whitney Sutherland, a licensed professional counselor and somatically-oriented psychotherapist in North Austin. We recorded an interview for the Project I Am podcast. Listen here. Whitney has spent years walking with clients through the often hidden terrain of complex and developmental trauma. Her work centers on helping people reconnect with their sense of aliveness, their bodies, and their authentic selves—especially when those parts have been shut down as a result of relational wounding.

What unfolded in our conversation was more than a professional dialogue—it was a shared reflection on the nature of healing, the cost of disconnection, and the transformative power of authentic relationship.

A Calling Rooted in Experience

Whitney shared how her interest in trauma work was born not just out of professional curiosity, but from a deep personal journey. Like many clinicians, she entered the field seeking to understand her own history—growing up in a home where secure attachment was unavailable and where she often reached outside herself for safety and validation.

This early longing for steady, attuned connection led to a lifelong fascination with attachment. Whether through books, films, or relationships, she found herself drawn to stories where healing emerged through safe, consistent connection. That passion now animates her clinical work, where she helps clients rediscover their inner sense of safety and connection after years of disconnection.

What Is Complex Trauma?

While many are familiar with PTSD as a response to a singular event—like a car accident or natural disaster—complex trauma is different. Complex PTSD, or C-PTSD, typically emerges from prolonged exposure to relational trauma, often beginning in childhood. It’s not about one moment, but many moments—repeated experiences of emotional misattunement, abandonment, or abuse.

Whitney explained that complex trauma tends to affect three primary areas:

Affect Dysregulation: Difficulty regulating emotions and physical sensations.
Negative Self-Concept: Internalized shame and a persistent sense of unworthiness.
Impaired Relationships: Patterns of disconnection, people-pleasing, or avoidance rooted in early attachment wounds.

Unlike PTSD, where treatment might focus on resolving a specific traumatic memory, healing complex trauma is about gradually restoring a relationship with parts of the self that were exiled in order to survive.

Trauma as Adaptation, Not Deficit

One of the most powerful insights Whitney offered was this: what we often pathologize as symptoms—chronic anxiety, depression, or relational dysfunction—are not signs of personal failure. They’re signals. Clues pointing to parts of us that had to be shut down, hidden, or over-performed to preserve attachment or safety in a world that didn’t feel safe enough to be real in.

She noted that many people who come to therapy don’t realize how much they’ve internalized the belief that something is wrong with them. These ego-syntonic beliefs—patterns that feel like part of our identity—often go unquestioned because they’ve been with us since childhood.

But the truth is, those strategies were once brilliant. They helped us survive. And the work now isn’t to reject them, but to get curious: are these patterns still serving us? Or are they holding us back?

Reclaiming Our Aliveness

Whitney’s approach, rooted in the NeuroAffective Relational Model (NARM), emphasizes reconnecting with our capacity for agency, choice, and self-compassion. NARM teaches that healing doesn’t come from forcing feelings, overriding boundaries, or pushing for catharsis. It comes from honoring the parts of us that had to disconnect—and offering them the space, presence, and consent they never had.

One insight she shared stood out:

“We don’t grow our capacity by forcing connection. We grow it by honoring our disconnection.”

That means helping clients work with their nervous systems gently, slowly, and with deep respect for their limits. Instead of pathologizing avoidance, Whitney reframes it as a form of self-protection—and teaches clients to listen to what their bodies and emotions are trying to communicate.

Therapy as Relationship, Not Repair Job

Whitney emphasized that true healing doesn’t come from a therapist "fixing" a client—it comes from co-creating a relationship that honors the client’s agency, internal wisdom, and pace.

In her words,

“If we try to control the process or override the client’s inner knowing, we’re just repeating the same harm they came to heal.”

Authenticity—both in clients and therapists—is key. When therapists are able to be present with their own internal experiences, without disconnecting or performing perfection, they model what it looks like to live in self-connection. That congruence creates a space where clients feel safe to do the same.

The Cultural Context of Disconnection

Our conversation also touched on the broader cultural systems that reinforce trauma responses. Whitney noted how society often rewards disconnection—overachievement, self-sacrifice, emotional suppression—while pathologizing natural expressions of need, anger, or grief.

In this way, trauma isn’t just individual; it’s systemic. And healing becomes a form of resistance. A return to what’s real, what’s embodied, and what’s human.

Community as an Antidote to Isolation

Whitney reflected on the importance of supportive professional communities—especially for therapists. So many of us hold space for others in isolation, which can lead to burnout or reenactment of our own patterns. Community offers a space to be witnessed, to stay accountable, and to keep growing in our own authenticity.

One powerful memory she shared was from our graduate days at Texas State, where we took part in a project that explored personal trauma through art. The experience helped reframe trauma not just as something to survive, but something that could be honored as part of a deeper becoming.

A Personal Reflection on Healing

Whitney’s journey has been one of transforming shame into self-trust. From being labeled and medicated as a child to stepping into her truth as a clinician, she’s come to see her relationship with herself as her most sustaining relationship. And that relationship is one that’s still evolving—not toward some fixed destination, but toward deeper trust in the present moment.

She shared that her personal practice now includes regular check-ins: noticing pressure, asking what’s driving her choices, and reflecting on whether she’s showing up from a place of survival or authenticity. These simple but profound moments of self-inquiry form the heart of her ongoing healing.

Final Words for the Journey

When asked what advice she would offer to someone just beginning their healing journey, Whitney offered this gentle truth:

“The ways you learned to disconnect from yourself weren’t your fault. You’re allowed to start right where you are. The fact that you’re even curious about healing means you’re already listening to yourself—and that’s powerful.”

Healing, she reminded us, isn’t linear. It’s relational. It’s messy, non-linear, and sometimes uncertain—but it’s always worthy. And when we’re supported in the right environment, our innate capacity for wholeness begins to emerge.

Learn More

To explore the NARM model or begin your own healing journey with Whitney, here are a few resources she recommends:

U.S.-based NARM Training: www.complextraumatrainingcenter.com
European NARM Training: www.narmtraining.com
Transforming Trauma Podcast by the NARM Institute
Whitney’s website: www.whitneysutherland.com
Email: whitneysutherland@gmail.com

Healing complex trauma is not a quick fix. It’s a slow remembering of what it means to be whole, to be seen, and to be safe in your own body. And as Whitney so beautifully reminded us—when we can embrace all parts of ourselves with tenderness, we begin to welcome others more fully too.

That, perhaps, is the deepest healing of all.

Listen to the Project I Am podcast here.

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Entrepreneurship and Mental Health

By David Schlosz • January 20, 2026

My conversation with Josh Rosen is, at its core, about the price of building something big. Not the visible markers; companies launched, revenue milestones, awards, and headlines; but the internal journey that rarely makes it into the highlight reel. We wanted to go underneath the “success story” and talk about what it has demanded of him: the pressure, the identity questions, the loneliness, the impact on mental health, and the way his definition of success has changed over time. The central tension is one many founders live with: how do you pursue ambitious dreams in a way that honors both ambition and humanity? Josh captures his approach in a line he shares right at the beginning: “I need to stand because motion creates emotion.” It’s a simple phrase, but it reveals something essential: his commitment to actively engage his inner world, not just endure it. The Making of a Leader: Duality, Sacrifice, and Audacity Publicly, Josh shows up as a “dream maker”. A leader who runs a digital media company and helps brands with go-to-market strategy. He talks about mentorship with genuine pride, describing himself as a “guiding light” for his team. What matters most to him isn’t a vanity metric; it’s watching people in his company reach real-life milestones: buying homes, building stability, starting families. He calls that his biggest standard of success. But privately, his story has another layer. Under the “unflappable” exterior is a deeply sensitive person who feels the weight of responsibility constantly. While his wife may describe him as someone who “doesn’t get nervous,” Josh tells the truth more plainly: “I’m nervous all the time. I just channel it in a different way.” His drive is rooted in a desire to protect the people closest to him and to do right by those who depend on him. A major theme in our conversation is learning when and how to be vulnerable. Leadership often demands steadiness, especially when you know people’s livelihoods are tied to your decisions. When the pressure spikes, he can’t always afford to fall apart. And still, he’s intentional about letting his team see the human being behind the role—often in moments like off-sites or holiday gatherings where the mask naturally comes down. The Weight of Responsibility and the Loneliness at the Top That gap between external perception and internal experience creates isolation. Josh doesn’t describe himself as an optimist. He calls himself a “measured realist,” and that realism comes with a particular kind of emotional load: the persistent awareness of what could go wrong. Over time, the self-doubt doesn’t disappear, it evolves. In some ways, it intensifies. He reflects on how different it felt in the early years, when the team was small and the consequences were simpler. Now, after 14 years and a staff of about 45, many of whom have been with him eight to ten years, the stakes feel enormous. “It can’t blow up. It can’t go away,” he says. “There’s too much riding on it.” That pressure shows up in the quiet moments, what he calls the “shower thoughts”, the relentless private questioning: Am I the right person to lead this? Am I making the right decision? And while people might see the glamour, travel to San Francisco, New York, Europe, they rarely see what it costs. Josh shares a painful example: the first year of his third child’s life, when she mostly knew him through FaceTime. Missed bedtimes. Missed bath time. The moments you can’t put back. That’s where the deeper existential questions emerge: What’s the point? Am I doing the right thing? Josh believes the “founder spirit” is often defined by the ability to compartmentalize, to hold grief and purpose at the same time, and to let sacrifice become fuel for something bigger. Ultimately, what he’s chasing isn’t just money. It’s freedom, especially the kind that buys time. The dream isn’t the number in the bank account; it’s being present on a random Wednesday at 4 p.m. for a ballet recital. The Reluctant Entrepreneur: Formative Moments and Rejection One of the more surprising parts of Josh’s story is that he doesn’t frame himself as someone who always wanted to be an entrepreneur. He calls himself a “reluctant entrepreneur”, pushed toward building his own path through rejection and disillusionment. He talks openly about not being a great student and struggling to respect teachers who hadn’t “been there.” Growing up in the ‘90s, he felt disconnected from traditional career narratives and more drawn to creativity and connection. A high school teacher, someone with real-world experience at Ogilvy, saw potential in him and opened a door into advertising. Then, at 19, his world cracked open. His parents divorced. His father experienced a serious mental health breakdown. His mother, who had been a career housewife, struggled financially. Josh describes the desperation of those years, including forging a document to receive a college bursary, just to cover food and gas. When that check arrived, around $600 or $800, it became a turning point. He felt a conviction settle into his bones: I will never rely on anyone again. I will be responsible for my own destiny. That resolve made him focused, but also impatient. He didn’t want to “pay his dues.” He felt corporate culture was skilled at “whack-a-moling” ambitious young talent. Every rejection became a stored source of motivation. The final push into entrepreneurship came when the company he worked for was sold to private equity. He was repeatedly asked to lay people off members of his own team. With a young family, the emotional cost wrecked him. Taking away someone’s paycheck wasn’t just “business.” It felt personal. It broke something in him and clarified what he didn’t want to be part of. When the opportunity to co-found his first company appeared, it led to a pivotal conversation with his wife: “If we don’t do it now, when are we going to do it?” Josh credits her support as foundational. She could see that, for him, this wasn’t just ambition. It was purpose. It was happiness. It was the future they wanted. Grounding and the Blur of Identity Josh names something many founders feel but rarely say out loud: the way identity fuses with the business. “I am the business, the business is me,” he says. And when you haven’t taken a true vacation in 14 years without work tagging along, it’s easy to start asking dangerous questions in low moments: Am I only what my net worth says I am? Is that all I am? What counterbalances that, for him, is family. Home life has a way of stripping the illusion off success. No matter what happens professionally, the garbage still needs to go out. Someone still has to get to hockey practice. In that space, you’re not “founder” or “CEO.” You’re Dad. You’re husband. That grounding is part of what helps him keep going without losing himself. Managing Stress and Seeking Support Josh is candid about what stress has looked like in his body and behavior: vaping addiction that escalated during COVID, poor diet, sleep deprivation, irritability. He’s developed a framework rooted in a simple truth: two things can be true at the same time . You can be overwhelmed and still grateful. You can feel crushed and still recognize your privilege. His strategy is to build tools that help him move through emotion faster: to compartmentalize, analyze, embrace, and then release. He speaks highly of therapy, crediting a long-term therapist with giving him practical tools for processing his internal world. He and his wife also do couples counseling, which he describes as a “tune-up”, maintenance, not emergency. One of his biggest takeaways: learning to ask for what you need has been a major unlock. And he returns again to the body: movement as release. The gym, for him, isn’t just about fitness, it’s about clarity. Solutions come in post-workout stillness. Reframing and Resilience A core element of Josh’s philosophy is reframing. He shares a story about his 12-year-old daughter struggling to make friends after a move. He helped her name the “worst case scenario” and then softened it: if today goes badly, she comes home to a family who loves her, eats ice cream, and tries again tomorrow. That shift didn’t erase the fear, but it made her brave enough to act anyway. That same resilience shows up in one of his most defining entrepreneurial memories: a time when the company was close to collapse, there was no money for rent, and he felt depleted in every direction. When his partner asked what they were going to do, Josh answered with a kind of stubborn, grounded courage: we’re going to get up, go to the office, and do the best we can, because that’s what we have left. The next morning, a check from their biggest client was waiting. That moment cemented a belief that has carried him: sometimes the win is simply putting one foot in front of the other. Lessons for Others and a Legacy of Humility Josh’s leadership ethos is surprisingly simple: build the kind of company the younger version of you would want to work for. He emphasizes that people don’t really work for companies, they work for people. And when new hires join, he tells them: “You don’t work for me. I work for you.” When I asked what he would say to a founder quietly burning out, his message was direct: you’re not alone. He urges founders to reach out, to tell the truth, to be vulnerable. He also warns against the glossy mythology of success online. For every Rolex and Lamborghini, there’s often a hidden stack of unpaid credit cards. His advice: live quietly. Let your actions speak. The legacy he wants most isn’t status, it’s humility. He wants his children to understand that nothing meaningful happens overnight. He uses examples like Olivia Rodrigo’s “overnight success” to reinforce the truth: what looks sudden is usually built on years of effort. Josh’s mantra is “Fortune favors the brave.” But in his telling, fortune isn’t primarily money. It’s the life he’s created, the family, the freedom, the ability to be present. In the end, he defines wealth in human terms: the family he’s built and the life they get to live.