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Angela Schellenberg

@angela_schellenberg

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Moved → @angelaschellenberg Grief • Trauma • Mother Hunger®
EMDR Therapy + Healing With Horses
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Peace in the Pause: A Somatic Movement, Yoga & Soundbath class and experience. A customary journey through intention setting, surrender, and truth.
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Thank you @hope_edelman for inviting me to lead another yoga, somatic movement, and sound healing session at your Motherless Daughter’s Retreat. It’s always such an honor to do this work alongside you and @angelaschellenberg.
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Curious about Peace in the Pause? Comment PEACE below to learn more.
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Stay Brave in Your Pursuit of JOY! 💌
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#peaceinthepause #aceyogala #retreat #sbiypoj taken in ACE Yoga by @angela_schellenberg

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13

9 months ago

If you are sitting at a table today feeling like the “add on,” this is for you.
From the outside you look fine.
On the inside your body is replaying every loss, every empty chair, every time you were the last line on the Christmas card and the extra place setting at someone else’s family table.
Maybe you lost your person.
Maybe you never really had one.
Maybe this “new” loss is sitting on top of a lifetime of being the orphan, the fixer, the one who should just be grateful to have a seat at all.
Your nervous system is not being dramatic.
It is tracking every goodbye it never got to finish.
It is asking very real questions, like:
“Where do I actually belong?”
“Who is mine now?”
If you feel yourself dissociating, over-performing, people pleasing, or wanting to bolt, that is not a personality flaw.
That is grief.
That is trauma.
That is your attachment system trying to figure out where it is safe.
You are not too sensitive.
You are not “ungrateful.”
You are a high-functioning, grieving, mother-wounded human trying to survive a season that was not built for your kind of pain.
Today you get to:
• step outside and breathe
• leave early if you need to
• say no to one more “just be thankful” comment
• text the friend who feels like home
• cry in the bathroom and wash your face and start again
Grief was never meant to be done alone.
You are allowed to need support.
You are allowed to miss your person so much it takes your breath away and still be worthy of love right now, exactly as you are.
If this landed in your chest, you are my people.
🖤 Comment GRIEFTOOLS and I will send you some simple nervous system and grief-support tools for days like this.
And if all you can do tonight is read this and exhale, that is enough. by @angela_schellenberg

8

0

a year ago

Weekdays can trick you.
The structure, the movement, the noise they keep you upright.
You clock in, answer emails, make dinner.
You stay busy enough that your grief has nowhere to land.

But then the weekend comes.
And suddenly…
the stillness feels like a threat.

If you’ve lost someone especially your first holiday season without them
your body might start buzzing before you even realize why.
The quiet is where grief comes to find you.

Here’s what’s happening underneath:
Your nervous system has been running on adrenaline all week fight, flight, perform, repeat.
The moment it senses “rest,” it doesn’t know how to trust it.
So instead of relaxing, your body releases all the energy it’s been holding.
Which can feel like anxiety.
Like heart pounding, thoughts racing, tears right under the skin.

As Francis Weller wrote,

“Grief is not a problem to be solved, but a presence to be engaged.”
And the weekends are where that presence waits for you.

So if you notice yourself spinning this weekend
pause before you judge it.
It’s not regression.
It’s your body remembering where safety was lost.

Let the grief move through, not around.
Breathe.
Touch the ground.
You’re not falling apart you’re finally exhaling. by @angela_schellenberg

17

2

a year ago

They call it a grumble of pugs.
And this weekend, my grumble met another.
Three and three.
Instant recognition. Instant regulation.

There’s something sacred about the way animals read the room.
No words just vibes.

They feel what’s safe.
They know what’s not.
And they trust that knowing.

Robin Williams once said,

“I don’t really trust someone who doesn’t like a dog.
But I always trust a dog that doesn’t like a human.”

That line… hits different when you understand the nervous system.
Because what we call instinct in animals is really attunement.
Their electromagnetic field their EMF is constantly reading the world around them.
The same way a horse will mirror your heartbeat.
The same way your body tightens when someone’s energy feels off.

That’s not paranoia.
That’s your body remembering what safety feels like
and what it doesn’t.

When we override that knowing when we explain away our “gut”
that’s when we lose our own internal compass.

So maybe the pugs have it right.
Sniff first. Sense always.
And trust the body’s no as much as its yes.

Many of you grew up with pets who were your first co-regulators.
They didn’t ask you to explain your sadness
they just laid beside it.
That’s nervous system safety, too.

If this landed somewhere deep in your body… like this post and then share a great dog intuition story we would love to hear how your dog Reed you or someone else with their EMF? by @angela_schellenberg

8

1

a year ago

I was walking through the farmer’s market in Del Mar. Vendors were offering “buy one, get one half off” so people could donate to the food bank. That moved me. Quietly.
Then I turned a corner and saw it— A small Day of the Dead altar. Marigolds. Candles. A stillness that hit somewhere deep.
And I thought of Aunt Dot.
She died this week. I found out through a message on Facebook. And it surprised me—how heavy that landed. Not loud. Just… deep. Like some old layer of grief got stirred up again.
Because she wasn’t just my aunt. She was the one who said yes.
I was 16. A sophomore in high school. My dad had just been gunned down. And Aunt Dot didn’t hesitate.
She opened her home. Made a place for me at her table. And didn’t ask for anything in return.
Her daughter Tina was fighting leukemia. Recovering from a bone marrow transplant. They had their own crisis. And she still said yes.
Same with her sister, my Aunt Jean—who took me in at 13 when my mom first got sick. They both knew what it was like to lose a parent too young. And they made sure I didn’t walk that road alone.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot.
How many people said yes to me. How many people fed me, loved me, made room for me—when they had none to spare.
Not just the humans. But the animals, too.
Peppy. Destiny. Quirky. Cheeba. Tala. T-Bone. Fred. Tommy the outdoor cat. Every one of them gave me something real.
And today, they were all with me. Every name. Every face. Every paw.
This post isn’t about a farmer’s market. It’s about legacy. About the ones who loved us when they didn’t have to. And the quiet ways they shaped us without ever asking to be remembered.
So here I am. Remembering.
And if you’re reading this, carrying your own quiet ache You’re not alone.
We never really lose them. We just keep learning how to live with all the love they left behind. by @angela_schellenberg

17

2

a year ago

This was before.
Before my dad joined a cult.
Before my mom had a breakdown and got sick.
Before my grandma took her — said she’d care for her — and locked us out.
Before we tricked her and stole my mom back.

For a second, we thought maybe things could go back to normal.

Then the phone rang.
That Snoopy phone.

I had already seen it on the news.
My dad. Gone. M*rdered, g*nned down.
And just like that — everything collapsed.

I didn’t just lose my father.
I lost everything.

My mom to state care.
My brother to foster care.
My home.
My horse, Destiny.
My dog, Peppi.

In one phone call.

That’s what no one tells you.

You don’t just lose people.
You lose access.
To food.
To safety.
To comfort.
To protection.
To everything that makes you feel human.

We are all one moment away from hunger.
One moment away from being the person we never thought we’d become.
And when that moment hits, the system doesn’t catch you.
You fall.

This is why I talk about government cheese.
Why I talk about grief like it’s physical.
Because it is.
And when the people go, the resources go with them.

🖤
If you’ve ever lived through a moment that changed everything
You’re not alone.
Drop a 🕯️.
Tag your local food bank.
Because survival shouldn’t be a solo act. by @angela_schellenberg

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11

a year ago

We didn’t have much.
But we had government cheese.

A giant brick of it.
Wrapped like a cinderblock.
I can still feel the wax paper edges and the way it barely melted on toast.

When I was little, things were tight.
We were on government assistance.
My mom was sick.
My dad was working long hours and still didn’t want to take help.
But we needed it.

I remember opening the cupboards. Empty.
Trying to feed my brother with whatever scraps I could find.
Muffins from a hobby oven.
Cheese on bread.
Everything cheese.

It was survival.
And even now, as an adult, I carry that survival in my nervous system.

Tonight I can’t sleep.

Because I’m thinking about the millions of people whose benefits just got cut.
Families waiting.
Mothers calculating grocery bills like military strategy.
Kids opening empty cabinets hoping something appears.
People making minimum wage in a maximum pain economy.

Politics matter.
This is a human rights issue.
Access to food is not a luxury. It’s a right.
And the systems meant to support us are crumbling under the weight of greed, neglect, and silence.

As a mental health advocate, I don’t just talk about trauma in therapy rooms.
I talk about it here too.
Because food insecurity is trauma.
Chronic stress is trauma.
Trying to survive while the world turns away is trauma.

If you have more, do more.
If you have a full pantry, share.
If you have a big table, pull up a chair for someone else.
Donate. Volunteer. Speak up.
Whatever you can do, do it.

Tag your local food bank in the comments.
Let’s build a map of places where people can get fed.
Because no one should be hungry while the rest of us scroll.
#foodjustice
#mutualaidhub
#governmentcheese
#povertyisviolence
#communitycare
#mentalhealthadvocate
#traumainformed
#griefwork
#nervoussystemhealing
#innerchildwork
#socialjusticehealing
#collectivecare
#basicneedsarenotbasic
#endfoodinsecurity
#humanrightsarepolitical by @angela_schellenberg

12

0

a year ago

I have three pugs.
Steve. Hope. Ruby.

They’ve witnessed more of my grief than most people.
They’ve curled up next to clients who couldn’t find the words
and just breathed with them
until something softened.

They’ve wrapped themselves around me on nights when the silence
was louder than the grief.
When the absence of my parents
felt too heavy to carry alone.

They don’t speak.
But they regulate.
And some days that’s everything.

Steve’s the big one.
Born on a mountain in Thailand.
More heart than dog.
He’s bonded to my son like they’re stitched together.
And he’s felt the ache of him going to college just as deeply.

Hope came after we lost our first pug.
After Shanghai.
After the world got loud and strange.
She brought laughter.
And something sacred: presence.

Ruby was the runt.
She wasn’t supposed to make it.
Tiny. Crooked. Fragile.
We brought her home at the start of the pandemic.
Now she’s fully imprinted.
Separation anxiety and all.
She’s not broken.
She’s just wired for closeness.
Same.

Growing up, I didn’t understand why I clung to animals.
Not until I lost my mom to mental illness.
And my dad to gun violence.
And realized my nervous system had been searching for someone
who stayed.
Who felt me.
Who didn’t look away when I was too much.

That’s what they give me.
Still.

They sit beside my clients in session.
Snore so loud I have to mute myself.
But I’ve come to realize
it’s music.
To grief.
To the nervous system.
To the part of us that doesn’t want advice.
Just witnessing.

This is why I bring them into the work.
Because healing doesn’t always happen through words.
Sometimes it happens through fur.
Through snoring.
Through steady breath and presence that says,
“I’m here.”

💬 Tag me in a picture of the animal who’s helped you regulate.
Or drop their photo in the comments.
I’d love to meet the ones who held you when no one else could. by @angela_schellenberg

10

2

a year ago

I was 11 the first time I lost my mom.
Not to death.
But to mental illness.
To institutionalization.
To a religious cult my father joined.
To eyes that stopped looking back at me.
I looked to her for regulation.
And got disconnection.
Chaos. Shame. Frozen grief.
All the things she never got to heal.
But before she left her eyes…
She gave me a horse.
His name was Destiny.
Back then, I didn’t know what a nervous system was.
But Destiny did.
He knew how to co-regulate with a body stuck in survival.
He’d lie down in the pasture and let me rest on his neck.
long before I knew what safety felt like.
Now I know the science.
I know the EMF field of a horse can sync a dysregulated heart.
But back then?
I just knew that next to him, I could finally breathe.
This is why I do what I do.
I work with women who were never mothered.
Who lost her early, emotionally, mentally, or physically.
And who are still carrying frozen grief in a body that’s been protecting them ever since.
You don’t have to talk it to death.
You don’t have to relive it.
You just have to feel safe enough to let go.
And sometimes, that starts
in a pasture.
Next to a horse.
With no words at all.

Follow for trauma + grief healing rooted in attachment, bodywork, and equine therapy.
No pressure. Just resonance.
If it’s meant for you, you’ll know. by @angela_schellenberg

14

1

a year ago

TABLE 19 WAS UNHINGED.
Cheers in Mandarin. Inside jokes that make zero sense unless you lived through the wild west of expat life in Shanghai.

We called ourselves the Tai Tais.
Which loosely translates to wives who roam in packs, bargain with intensity, and collect memories like jade jewelry and fake bags.

We raised our babies together in a city that was wild and wonderful.
Where you didn’t just build community.
You depended on it.

And this weekend?
We flew in from all over the states to celebrate one of our own.
Emma got married to Keenan and somehow we all time-traveled and ended up back at the Pearl Market in heels and lipstick.

Here’s what I know:
Grief tries to make you live in the past.
Trauma tries to convince you the future isn’t safe.
But moments like this—
dancing in a fancy dress, laughing at stories only we understand—
pull you right back into the now.

The present becomes sacred.
The joy becomes medicine.
And the people?
They become anchors.

This isn’t just a wedding post.
It’s a reminder that secure attachment doesn’t only come from childhood.
You can build it as an adult—when you choose people who feel like safety in motion.

Our hearts are full.
Our memories are louder than our table was.
And this weekend reminded me:
Healing is possible.
Especially when you surround yourself with people who become secure attachment
and love you exactly as you are now.

Video from the best weekend with the loudest table and the softest hearts.
Here’s to the Tai Tais, the toasts, and the time travel.
Jie. taken in Allentown, Pennsylvania by @angela_schellenberg

36

2

a year ago

Ever leave a conversation dizzy and somehow apologizing for things you did not do? That fog has a name. It is word salad, a tangle of circular talk that keeps you off balance and them off the hook. You are not “too sensitive.” Your nervous system is tracking chaos and asking for clarity.

Here is your script. One topic only. “What is your main point.” “We are off topic, let’s return to the original issue.” If it spirals, pause the talk. Breathe, take a short walk, write down the single point you will answer. You are allowed to stop over explaining and start deciding.

Save this for the next hard conversation, share with someone who needs it, and if you want support, DM UNTANGLE to book a 1:1 session. Want grounding tools you can use today, DM WORTHY for my Emotional Starter Kit.

Angela Schellenberg, LMHC, LPC, LPCC
Grief, trauma, and attachment specialist, EMDR, equine-guided healing in Malibu and Santa Monica
Certified Mother Hunger®️ facilitator, credit to Kelly McDaniel
Work with me, DM UNTANGLE. Tools and freebies, DM WORTHY. Equine sessions, DM EQUINE. Courses, DM UNLEARN.

#WordSalad #ManipulationTactics #BoundaryTools #TraumaInformed #AttachmentHealing #NervousSystemRegulation #GriefAndTrauma #EMDR #EquineTherapy #TherapistTips #HighFunctioningWomen #HealingJourney #MentalHealthEducation #CommunicationSkills #GaslightingRecovery by @angela_schellenberg

5

0

a year ago

The sun came up as we flew into Philly this morning.

And I don’t know. Something about that felt symbolic.

We’re all flying in from different places this weekend. For one of our daughters’ weddings. But really, it’s more than a wedding.

It’s a reunion of souls who raised our kids together in Shanghai.
Who cooked meals side by side when everything was foreign.
Who swapped recipes and tears and foot massage recommendations.
Who took 6 a.m. trips to tiny cities with no running water just to buy furniture we’d ship back across the world.
Who made home wherever we were — because we had each other.

That kind of friendship doesn’t fade when the miles stretch long.

Especially when you’ve lost your parents.
And you start to understand that family doesn’t always share your blood.
Sometimes they just share your grief. Your joy. Your weird inside jokes. Your life.

Grief reshapes you.
It cracks open the part of you that used to wait to feel loved.
And instead teaches you how to see it.
Right in front of you.

I always say: travel heals trauma.
Not because it fixes the pain. But because it gives you proof that there’s more.
More life. More joy. More memories to be made.
Even after the worst thing.

Shanghai was that for me.
Proof I could build something beautiful after loss.
Proof I didn’t have to live in the sadness forever.

And this weekend…
Flying in. Seeing those faces.
It’s the kind of full-circle moment you can’t explain.
But you feel it in your chest.
Like a warm ache.

The kind that reminds you:
You’re allowed to be sad.
And still feel okay.

Both can be true.
And often, they are. by @angela_schellenberg

11

0

a year ago