Ghosting Your Practitioner Is Not a Trauma Response. It’s Just Rude.
Swipe culture doesn't belong in sacred work. Let's do better.
Originally published on my Substack: Sex & Somatics with Mandy Rose, where I explore the sweet spot between language, sensation and soul.
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So, let me get one thing straight.
Ghosting your practitioner is not a trauma response.
It’s not: “just where my nervous system is at.”
It’s just plain fucking rude.
Yeah. I said it.
And now here’s the thing.
I work in a space that is deeply vulnerable. Often edgy. And you can bet you’re going to be confronted at times.
Coaching isn’t a product that you consume.
It’s relational.
It’s a co-created process.
It is a nervous system to nervous system relationship that is built on presence and trust.
And whether you work with me for one session or six months, I show up fully.
That’s the standard that I hold.
Now, the other day I was clearing out some old client files. And as I read each name it brought back a memory:
A face,
a voice,
a breakthrough,
a moment of vulnerability.
And you know what hit me the most?
What stood out the most?
It’s not the clients who came and stayed and did all the work.
And it’s not even the ones who said “Hey, this isn’t quite right for me.”
That’s fine.
That’s mature.
That’s normal.
The ones that stung were the ones who just disappeared.
No closure.
No thank you.
No “I’m complete.”
Not even a fuck off.
They just vanished.
Now I don’t need everybody to stay forever. That’s not the point of this work.
I don’t take it personally when people reach the end of their journey with me.
But when someone ghosts after we’ve built something real, after I’ve tracked their breath, felt their shame in the room, held their tears with care.
That’s not only fucking frustrating, that’s relational whiplash.
Because this work is not casual.
This work is deeply personal.
And it deserves a response.
Now I get it, we live in a world of swipe culture, where ghosting is a normal exit strategy. Where “block and burn” is a form of nervous system protection.
Right?
But here’s the thing: this isn’t a dating app.
You didn’t swipe left on me. We sat face to face.
We talked about the most intimate parts of your life.
And I held that space with my full presence and care.
And when you disappear without a word that’s not trauma.
That’s emotional immaturity wrapped in spiritual language.
Now I’m not saying that endings aren’t hard.
I’m not saying trauma responses aren’t real.
But there is a line between honoring your nervous system and hiding behind it.
And this rant? It’s not just about me.
It’s about you.
It’s about the kind of person you want to be:
In the hard spaces.
In mentorship.
In your own growth.
Because one of the clearest signs of emotional maturity isn’t just how you show up it’s how you leave.
Are you able to say:
“Thank you for our time. I’m done.”
Are you able to close that loop with respect?
To bring about completion instead of leaving behind confusion?
That’s the work. Because endings reveal everything.
And so, yeah this is a rant.That’s what this is.
It is the week of the sacred rant.
And it’s also a prayer for higher standards.
I want to work with people who are ready to relate differently.
Who take responsibility for their communication. To leave a space with the same intention they entered it.
Because healing isn’t just about what you unlock, it’s about what you’re willing to close with grace.
And in this week’s paid post, I’m going to talk about what that actually looks like.
We’re going to go into:
Real-world closing scripts for when your throat grips tight
What ghosting actually signals to your practitioner
A gentle embodiment practice to sit with discomfort instead of running
So let’s be better people.
Let’s grow the fuck up.
And let’s stop ghosting and be the kind of humans who can leave with love.
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