My body remembers things my mind tries to forget
The way my shoulders still climb towards my ears when I hear footsteps behind me
The way my breath catches when someone raises their voice
The way my stomach twists when I think about that specific night
It’s strange how we expect healing to just be a thought
Or a decision we make once like checking off a box
But apparently my body never got the memo
It keeps the score like a diary
Every heartbreak stored deep in my chest
Every betrayal or harsh word curled up in my gut
Every goodbye still ringing in my ribs
Some days I’m angry at it for still holding on
But then I think about how hard it’s worked to keep me alive
How every flinch was its way of saying “I’m trying to protect you”
How every tight muscle was a shield it build to keep me from breaking apart
So, instead of fighting it, I’m learning to sit with it and be okay with uncomfortable
I place a hand over my heart and whisper.
You can relax now, it’s safe. I’m okay now.
I close my eyes and unclench my jaw
Stretch my arms wide and let my lungs fill with air like I’m breathing for the first time
And little by little my body starts to believe me
My shoulders drop and my breath becomes easier
My stomach softens
It’s not overnight, in fact it is a much longer process than I would design
Healing never is quick or easy
But piece by piece I am teaching my body
That the war is over
KM