The Hoffman Process

My personal story on why I went and why it was the best thing I did for myself.

Why I’m writing about it now.

I’ve been waiting for the right time to share my experience from the Hoffman Process. A lot has happened in my life since I went in March 2024 and I finally found the words to share.

I just spent 16 days with my father. It was the best time we’ve spent together, ever. It was not perfect by any means, but I found myself more present, more patient, more understanding. After losing my mother five years ago and navigating complicated relationships with both parents, this visit felt different — and I know I can credit my work at the Hoffman Process to that shift.

Everyone has their own reasons for going and their own unique experience. This is mine.

The context behind what pushed me to go.

Bottom line: I went because I believed I needed to be fixed.

I was in a relationship at the time that had started off beautifully. It was the first time I let myself be radically vulnerable with a partner — let alone anyone. Eventually, as the honeymoon wore off, my childhood trauma came to the surface. Our triggers started to set each other off. My baggage triggered his, which triggered mine in return. It was a never-ending cycle that sucked the life out of me. The deeper I went into relieving my childhood wounds, the worse our relationship became.

I was forcing the relationship to work for a few reasons. For one, I was financially dependent on him by this point. But more than that, my self-worth had started to erode. I kept telling myself, stop messing up. Stop letting my childhood wounds get in the way. I blamed myself for the fights. My fear of abandonment was so deep that I tolerated the suffering. I didn’t want to lose this perfect relationship — even though, in reality, it was far from perfect.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped recognizing myself. It was scary, because it all happened slowly, like a slow death of myself. Depression took over. I started to taking antidepressants. I was having anxiety attacks — I’m talking hyperventilating on the floor. I was angry and filled with rage, and it came out in ways I couldn’t control.

I had been in individual therapy for five years. We started couples therapy. I tried MDMA-Psilocybin therapy. I was open to trying anything and everything. But deep down, I had lost my identity and I didn’t know how to find myself again. I thought if I could suppress my big emotions, our life would return to normal.

I put my career on the back burner because I thought prioritizing him would win his love. I prioritized his needs and ignored mine. I distanced myself from friends. And of course, he grew to resent me for all of it — even though I thought I was doing everything ‘right’.

On the outside, we kept up appearances. I smiled through the vacations. I hosted dinner party after dinner party, but I was dying on the inside. I didn’t tell any of my friends. Holding it in was the most harmful thing I could have done. Towards the end, I started considering a breakup, but needed to get back on my own two feet financially to pull the trigger.

Then, he did it before I could get my footing. He walked away and I was left packing up my entire life alone. My best friends came and I hired movers, but you get the picture. I had no where to go, so I put my life in a storage unit and bounced between friends’ houses as I looked for a new place to live. My number one fear of abandonment came true in one of the most traumatic ways possible.

Before I met him, I was working a dream job as VP of Brand and Marketing making a pretty salary, was financially independent, and living a comfortable and fun life. I was always hosting parties at my adorable house. I was frolicking around the world. I felt like I had it all. When I met him, I was in a good place — confident, successful, happy. But I was so infatuated by him and swept up by his charm that I completely lost myself along the way. I put him on a pedestal — which really just meant that I thought he was “better” than me.

During one of our worst fights, he told me that I had all the worst qualities of my dad (that he knew of). It was a gut punch — one I can still feel today. It was cruel, but it was effective in a fucked up way. That’s when I looked up the Hoffman Process. I learned it was designed to break cycles in family dynamics. I didn’t want to be those terrible qualities, nor did I believe I had them. I immediately signed up. I booked the soonest week I could. And that’s how I ended up at the Hoffman Process in Canada.

My experience at the Hoffman Process.

I absolutely loved the Canada location. I originally chose it because it had the earliest available date, but it ended up being the perfect fit for me. The smaller group size made the experience less daunting, and I liked that I wouldn’t risk being in a group with someone I knew from LA. I went in March, and it snowed the entire time — adding to the magic of the week. It felt like I was living inside a snow globe.

Going in, I was incredibly nervous. I’m naturally social, a networker by nature, but the thought of spending a week being completely vulnerable with strangers felt like a nightmare. I was there to fix myself — part of me wanted to be there, but another part of me wanted to run.

There is a substantial amount of pre-work leading up the process — essentially deep, introspective exercises designed to get you thinking about difficult experiences from your past. I’ve heard that some people back out of the process entirely because of how triggering the pre-work can be, and honestly, I get it.

You arrive on a Friday night, but the process itself begins Saturday morning. That first night, you’re still allowed to keep your phone. Then, on Saturday morning, you turn it in, and the real work begins. The night before we began, my incredible friend Sofia Brunner sent me a text that stayed with me throughout the process. Her words gave me so much perspective and I want to share:

If you do go, you’ll come to understand the magic of not knowing the details in advance. Surrendering to the masterfully designed structure of the week is the magic. The journey isn’t easy, but the lessons I learned and the joy I rediscovered within myself are absolutely priceless.

What I hope to share is a bit of encouragement if you’re on the fence about going. I’ll never forget a moment early in the Process when I realized just how much suffering was in the room — complete strangers, connected by pain, yet united in the desire to break free. By the end of the week, the collective joy we felt brings me to tears as I write this. I don’t know how else to say it without sounding cliché, but it was truly one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever witnessed.

I won’t lie — returning to normal life afterward was daunting. The Hoffman bubble felt safe. Being completely untethered from reality for a week was freeing. But I was going back to a dysfunctional relationship, and I felt immense pressure to be perfect for us after the process. I was optimistic — convinced that I had changed and that our relationship would finally get back on track.

Three months later, we broke up.

In hindsight, I now see that my experience at Hoffman was perfectly timed. It didn’t save my relationship, but it prepared me for the aftermath. And for that, I’m endlessly grateful.

Was it worth it?

For me, yes.

The Hoffman Process does not fix you. It is not a magic pill. The experience is as transformative as you allow it to be. It requires surrender — specifically to self-discovery — to uncovering the parts of yourself you may have never confronted before.

My takeaways from the process.

It’s been just about a year later and I am still uncovering bits and pieces of what I learned from that week. It’s an active practice to apply what I learned. Old triggers resurface. Healing is not linear, and growth takes time.

I share so much about my relationship and breakup because I want to be clear: Hoffman is not meant to save anything — not a relationship, not a career, not an addiction. It won’t erase pain or prevent hardship. My relationship was simply the catalyst that pushed me to go, and for that, I am grateful. The real reward is the new perspective and understanding I have of forgiveness and love — especially in my relationship with my father.

Looking back, I see how my unresolved childhood dynamics played out in my relationship, ultimately sabotaging it. And while it cost me that relationship, I’ve learned — and continue to learn — to accept that. We have to process our childhood; there’s no way around it. In therapy, I’ve come to realize how intertwined everything is. When we fought, when I was triggered, I wasn’t just reacting to my boyfriend — I was reacting to my father. Back then, I couldn’t separate the two. Now, I can. My pain was misdirected toward the person I loved most, as is often the case. I was reliving the same wounds I had experienced as a child.

When I started writing this, I didn’t intend to talk so much about my relationship. But the truth is, it’s the reason I ended up at Hoffman in the first place. I recently reread my journal from that time, and reliving that pain was hard. I want to hug the version of myself who was suffering, who thought there was no way out. But I also offer myself grace and learned how to forgive myself. I did the best I could with the tools I had. And now, I’m proud of how far I’ve come — taking it day by day. Healing can’t be rushed. Self-forgiveness doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a practice.

Trauma can take many iterations to process. I’ve shared all these lessons, yet even a year later, my ex-boyfriend resurfaced in my life this week — not in a pleasant way. I cried. The sadness came rushing back, like it had never left. For a brief moment, I thought all my healing had been for nothing. But then I reminded myself: healing and grief are not linear.

Acceptance is understanding that loss and heartbreak are the risks we take for love. It’s recognizing that we both did the best we could. It’s trusting that people leave to make space for something greater. There is power in stillness, in silence. It’s necessary to feel — whether it’s pain or peace.

I left Hoffman with more empathy and a deeper understanding of the phrase: hurt people hurt people. People act out of pain, not because they want to, but because it may be the only way they know how. By learning to break free from my patterns, I uncovered a reservoir of joy I had forgotten was mine to reclaim. The trauma stored in my body had been debilitating, and a week at Hoffman helped bring me back to myself. Back to self-love — the only love that truly matters. Not love from a partner. Not validation from a career. At the end of the day, the most fulfilling love is the love we have for ourselves. And to be clear: I have to remind myself of this every single day.

You don’t need to have something wrong with you to go to the Hoffman Process. We all carry baggage and family dynamics to untangle. If you’re seeking to understand why — why you react the way you do, why certain patterns keep repeating in your day to day life — Hoffman is worth it.

If you are hesitant because of work or the idea of being phoneless for a week, my biggest encouragement to you is: take the leap. Life at home and in the office will go on. And I can say without hesitation that a week away was the best investment I ever made in myself.

Did I go out of desperation to save my relationship? Yes. Did the relationship last? No. So was it pointless? Absolutely not. I stand firmly that it was the best time and money I have ever spent. I believe in doing the work. Holding a mirror up yourself is terrifying, but it’s one of the bravest things you can do.

And just like clockwork, as I wrap up this piece — one I’ve been working on for weeks, months, an entire year — the WhatsApp group chat from my Hoffman family went off. My buddy Justin checked in on all of us. My best pal from the process, Ty, just told me yesterday that he and his wife are expecting a baby! This journey has gifted me 23 new friends from all over the world — people who truly see me, and whom I deeply cherish.

I hope this helps even one person out there. If you made it this far, thank you :)

I see you. I love you.

Love, Cat

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Words of wisdom.

Here are some quotes I saved that remind me everything I learned at Hoffman:

“Love is the flowing, the outpouring, the rendering from the heart and soul of emotional goodness to yourself first — and then to others in your life.”

— The Hoffman Process’s definition of love

Yung Pueblo

Yung Pueblo

Alex Elle

Yung Pueblo

Rising Woman