I used to think something was wrong with me.
Why did my heart race in calm conversations?
Why did I flinch when someone raised their voice—even if they weren’t angry?
Why did I feel exhausted after socializing, or anxious over things that “didn’t matter”?
I couldn’t explain it. I just knew I felt off. Like my body was holding onto something that my brain had no words for.
And the truth is—it was.
Nobody Told Me That the Body Remembers
We talk about trauma like it’s a memory. Like it lives somewhere in the past.
But here’s the truth no one taught me:
Trauma doesn’t stay in your head. It lives in your body.
And even when you forget it, even when you bury it, your body doesn’t. It holds on. Silently. Patiently. Painfully.
Your body keeps sending you signals—tiny, unread messages—hoping one day, you’ll finally open them.
I Thought I Was “Just Sensitive”
For years, I brushed off what I was feeling.
That sinking feeling in my gut? “I’m overthinking.”
The sudden need to withdraw after a conversation? “I’m antisocial.”
The tightness in my chest before sending an email? “I’m lazy.”
But these weren’t flaws in my personality.
They were messages.
Unprocessed pain, old fear, unresolved grief—stored in my nervous system, quietly replaying themselves in everyday moments.
Nobody Taught Me How to Read My Body’s Language
In school, I learned algebra and how to write essays.
But no one taught me how to recognize that a panic attack could feel like I was dying.
No one taught me that chronic fatigue could be my body’s way of saying, “I’m not safe.”
No one explained that numbness, detachment, people-pleasing, or even overachieving could be trauma responses.
So I did what most of us do:
I minimized it.
I pushed through.
I wore the mask.
Until the day my body stopped asking and started screaming.
Healing Isn’t a Straight Line. It’s a Slow Listening.
My healing didn’t begin in a therapist’s office or with a self-help book.
It began on a random Tuesday, sitting on the bathroom floor, wondering why I felt like I was drowning when nothing “bad” had happened.
It began when I stopped saying, “What’s wrong with me?”
And started asking, “What happened to me?”
It began when I started listening to my body—not as an enemy to fix, but as a messenger to understand.
Your Body Isn’t Broken. It’s Brilliant.
If you’ve ever felt too much, too tired, too anxious, too everything—
I want you to know: you’re not too anything.
You’re human. You’re carrying more than most people can see.
Your body isn’t betraying you—it’s protecting you.
It’s not punishing you—it’s trying to speak to you.
And those panic attacks? The shutdowns? The sensitivity?
They’re intelligence. They’re memory. They’re love, trying to keep you safe.
You Can Learn to Read the Messages
You don’t have to have all the answers right now.
You don’t have to “fix” anything overnight.
But you can start listening—gently, curiously, compassionately.
💌 When your chest tightens—pause.
💌 When your energy crashes—ask what part of you needs rest.
💌 When your voice shakes—know it’s okay to be scared and still speak.
Your body never forgot.
But you can remember—slowly, softly, and in your own time.
Because healing isn’t about erasing the past.
It’s about learning to feel safe in the present.
And that starts when we finally read the messages we were never taught to understand.
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