I’ve been walking this healing path for twenty years, and for the last fifteen, I’ve been guiding others through their own journeys of self-discovery.
Like so many who find something that actually helps, I was completely obsessed in the beginning. I trained in everything — Reiki, shamanic work, kundalini healing, transcendental meditation, breathwork, tantric practices, Buddhist teachings. I dove into nervous system work, complex trauma, sat with gurus in India, studied nervous system healing and trained to hold mystical circles and trauma trainings alike.
I’ve witnessed incredible things in my sessions. Spontaneous kundalini awakenings, symptoms disappearing that “shouldn’t” have, and walked countless women through enormous grief and the slow unwinding of decades of pain. I’m no stranger to doing the work myself — I’ve healed from complex trauma, depression, POTS, Crohn’s disease, and all the shame and dysregulation that comes with those roots.
So when I talk about cold plunging, I’m not coming from some trendy wellness angle. I’m speaking from deep experience and genuine care for women trying to feel better in a world that often gives them the wrong instructions. I see all the trends, and I feel the sincerity behind them. So many facilitators are well-meaning — they’ve found something that helped and want to share it. That comes from a good place, but it also comes from a young place. A place that’s just starting out, trying to help others from the same spot they’ve only recently landed in themselves.
With time and real experience, you realise no single tool is *the* thing. Wisdom softens the edges. The longer you’re on this path, the more clearly you see what actually works over time, and what quietly erodes your connection to your body — even when it looks “powerful” from the outside.
Most wellness practices are still built on male biology. The studies, the nervous system models we’re taught — they don’t account for hormonal fluctuations, cyclical energy, or the deep sensitivity most women navigate daily. We tend to have more vagal sensitivity, higher likelihood of freeze or fawn states, and lower tolerance for forced stressors, especially with trauma or chronic illness in our history.
When we force ourselves into ice baths, override every part of our body screaming “no,” brace ourselves and call it “resilience” — we might not be regulating our nervous system. We might just be shocking it. Again. The cold plunge is built on masculine models of transformation. It’s about grit, discipline, overcoming. But there’s a huge difference between stimulation and regulation.
Feeling a buzz doesn’t mean you’re rewiring your system. Sometimes it just means you’ve triggered your sympathetic response and called it wellness.
For women who’ve spent their lives disconnecting from their bodies to survive — pushing through, ignoring fatigue, overriding intuition — the last thing they need is another “healing” practice teaching them to do more of the same. Many of us were never taught to ask “How does this feel in my body?” We learned to perform strength, to not be “too sensitive.” Cold plunging becomes the perfect metaphor — stoic, impressive, and potentially deeply dysregulating. If you genuinely feel amazing after cold plunging, beautiful — this isn’t about shaming what works for you. But for women who try it and leave feeling wired, numb, or panicked — you’re not broken. You’re probably just listening to your body. And that might be the most healing thing of all. Some of us need warmth. We need repair. We need to feel safe enough to soften.
We need to stop seeing trauma healing as something to white-knuckle through and start understanding it as something we gently re-learn. So if cold plunging isn’t for you, and you secretly shudder at the thought of going into ice water, maybe you could try these things instead. Sink into a warm bath with Epsom salts. Practice slow, intentional breathing that lengthens your exhale. Move gently through yoga or take a walk in nature. Hum or sing to activate your vagus nerve. Even placing your hand on your heart and feeling your own rhythm can be profoundly regulating. These practices invite your system to soften rather than forcing it to override.
And remember, working with a skilled therapist who’s walked this path before you is extremely invaluable. There’s something powerful about being witnessed by someone who truly understands the journey from personal experience. You don’t have to cold plunge your way into peace. You don’t have to prove anything. There’s real power in listening. In honouring your own cues. In knowing your system. Not everything that looks strong actually is strong. And not everything that helps others will help you. That’s not failure — that’s wisdom.