Before I trusted my voice, I ignored my body.
My body would tighten before the conversation even started.
My shoulders would rise.
My stomach would sink.
My breathing would change.
And I would tell myself I was overthinking.
I wasn’t.
I was perceiving.
There were rooms my body resisted long before my mind admitted they were unsafe.
There were dynamics my nervous system recognized before I had language for them.
There were people my chest braced against before I could articulate why.
But I had been trained to override that knowing.
Be polite.
Be agreeable.
Be understanding.
Be strong.
So I swallowed the signals.
I called anxiety “drama.”
I called exhaustion “weakness.”
I called intuition “assumption.”
And my body kept keeping score.
Healing has not looked like becoming fearless.
It has looked like listening sooner.
Leaving earlier.
Resting faster.
Speaking up before resentment calcifies.
I am learning that my body was never trying to sabotage me.
It was trying to protect me.
The tightness was information.
The fatigue was information.
The tears were information.
And now, instead of arguing with the signals, I pause.
I breathe.
I ask:
What is this trying to tell me?
Healing is not about becoming invincible.
It is about becoming honest.
Especially with myself.