Previous articles
The voice in the mirror
“Mirror, mirror on the wall... who do you hear when you call?”
If your inner voice feels more like a critic than a coach - this is for you.
The way you talk to yourself becomes the way you see yourself.
Here’s a mantra (and a mindset shift) that could change your reflection - from the inside out.
When the Walls Are Closing Down: A Therapist’s Personal Journey Through Overwhelm and Recovery
Ever felt like life collapsed in a matter of minutes? Work, health, relationships - everything spiraling at once? I’ve been there too.
As a therapist, I help others manage emotional chaos. But recently, I found myself needing the same tools I teach.
Healing isn’t linear. It’s messy, personal, and real. But even in the darkest times, you do have inner resources. Sometimes you just need to remember how to access them.
🖤 You’re not alone.
When the Body Speaks: What Pain, Weight, and Emotions Reveal
Not just what we’ve lived through… but also what we never expressed. Unspoken emotions, unacknowledged pain, suppressed anger, shame, fear — they all leave traces in the body. In your posture, your breath, muscle tension, back or neck pain, tight shoulders.
Your body becomes a map of your experiences. An autobiography that can’t be faked. As Alexander Lowen said: “The body never lies. ”Every tension has a beginning. Instead of asking: “What’s wrong with me?” Try asking: “What is my body trying to tell me?” Your body is not betraying you. It’s been protecting you — all along. Listen to it.
Letting go and how it actually felt for me
“You only get one life. It's actually your duty to live it as fully as possible.” — Jojo Moyes
Letting go didn’t happen for me all at once. I didn’t even know what I was holding onto — just a tightness in my throat, a heaviness I couldn’t name.
I kept expecting release… instead, I found stillness. And slowly, something shifted.
Letting go isn’t about fixing yourself. It’s about feeling what’s there — without judgement, without rush.
Sometimes healing is quiet.
Anger, Aggression and the Line in Between.
I always thought I’d stay calm if someone shouted at me — after all, I’m a therapist. I know the difference between my emotions and someone else’s. But when a parent shouted at me in public, something inside shifted. I felt ashamed for not shouting back — like I didn’t protect my child unless I responded with anger. That moment taught me something deeper: we need to untangle anger from aggression. We can honour our emotions without losing ourselves in them.”
Anger is valid. Aggression is a choice. And walking away? That can be strength too.
Anger, Aggression and the Line in Between: A Therapist’s Honest Reflection
By Monika Bukowska-Brown
“Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response.”
— Viktor E. Frankl
I always believed that if someone shouted at me, I’d be able to stay grounded — to remember, this is not my emotion. As therapists, we’re trained to distinguish what belongs to us and what doesn’t. We’re taught to hold space for others, to observe, contain, and not absorb. We know how to spot our triggers and where they come from.
Or so I thought.
When the Hat Doesn’t Fit
Recently, at a school event, I was approached by a parent who believed my child had done something wrong. His tone was calm, but his energy was off. Something about his presence unsettled me. Those who know me know that I trust my instincts — and I’m not easily intimidated. But this man was tall, intense, and there was an air of subtle aggression.
The mother in me stirred. The protector woke up.
I calmly explained that the matter had already been discussed with his wife and that my child wasn’t involved as he thought. But my heart was pounding. He didn’t like my answer. And then — he raised his voice.
He shouted.
In that moment, I felt shame, anger, and fear. I worried people were watching. I worried about being humiliated. I worried that staying calm might be seen as weakness.
And yet, I walked away.
He kept shouting. I didn’t turn back. But it stayed with me.
“Anger is an emotion. Aggression is a behaviour.”
— Marshall Rosenberg, Nonviolent Communication
The Shame After Silence
I tried all my therapist tools. I told myself: This isn’t your story. This is not about you. Let it go. But I couldn’t. I kept thinking:
Should I have said more? Should I message his wife? Should I have shouted back?
Then came the shame.
Not shame that he shouted — shame that I didn’t.
That unless I “fought back,” I hadn’t stood up for my child.
That unless I matched his energy, I had somehow lost.
That thought was shocking — and revealing.
Where does this come from? When did I learn that unless I respond to aggression with aggression, I haven’t protected myself or my child?
The Tangle of Anger and Aggression
We teach our clients that anger is a valid, healthy emotion — a signpost that a boundary has been crossed. But aggression? That’s different. That’s anger without containment. And yet, somewhere along the way, those two wires got crossed.
Anger and aggression have become fused — especially in how we think about strength and self-defense. In families, in schools, in media — we’re often shown that if you don’t shout, you’re weak. If you don’t retaliate, you’ve lost.
"When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves."
— Viktor E. Frankl
But here’s what therapy — and this moment — taught me: walking away wasn’t weakness. It was a choice. It was my strength, not his. And still, the discomfort lingered — because I hadn’t processed the shame beneath the silence.
This experience pulled me into deeper self-inquiry. What did that moment show me about my beliefs, my upbringing, my wiring?
It reminded me that therapy isn’t just something we do for others — it’s something we continue doing for ourselves.
What Do We Teach Our Children?
I keep wondering: How do we raise children who can feel their anger fully — without needing to shout or shame others to feel powerful? How do we help them hold their feelings with dignity?
As parents, teachers, and therapists, we have a responsibility to break the cycle — to teach that strength can be silent, that boundaries can be held without aggression, and that feeling emotion doesn’t require performing it.
Because if we don’t? They may grow up like many of us — unsure where anger ends and aggression begins.
“Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.”
— Ambrose Bierce
I’m still processing what happened that day. But now I’m holding it differently — with compassion, curiosity, and a deeper respect for how much inner work this job really asks of us.
And I know this: without my therapy tools and my supervisor’s support, I wouldn’t have reached this place of understanding.
That’s why we do this work — and why we must continue doing it, for ourselves and others.
References:
Frankl, V. E. (1946). Man’s Search for Meaning
Rosenberg, M. (2003). Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life
Bierce, A. (1911). The Devil’s Dictionary
Would you like a meta description, social media preview text, or image suggestion to go along with this post for your blog or website?
The Voice in the Mirror
By Monika Bukowska-Brown
"Talk to yourself like someone you love."
— Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection
"Mirror, mirror on the wall... who do you hear when you call?"
— Me, once I realized the voice was mine all along.
The Mirror Is Just Glass — The Voice Gives It Power
Mirrors don’t judge.
They don’t say we’re too much or not enough.
They don’t call us beautiful or broken.
They’re just glass.
But somehow, when I stand in front of one, I feel it all.
Some days: confidence, pride, softness.
Other days: shame, criticism, comparison.
The mirror didn’t change.
I did.
What changed wasn’t what I saw, but what I heard.
Because mirrors don’t talk.
But I do.
Inside my head. All day. Every day.
The Way We Talk to Ourselves… Is the Way We Hear Ourselves
It took me years to understand:
My inner dialogue isn’t just a harmless thought loop.
It’s a soundtrack my brain plays on repeat.
And I believe it, even when it’s cruel.
Things like:
“You’re not doing enough.”
“You’re a mess.”
“No one really likes you.”
“You’ll never get it right.”
I heard that for so long, I stopped questioning it. I thought it was just me being honest with myself.
But honesty without kindness isn’t truth. It’s violence.
Inner Dialogue Isn’t Just What We Say — It’s How We Say It
Your inner voice has texture. It has weight.
Stop and notice:
- Is it loud? Sarcastic? Cold?
- Is it soft but dismissive?
- Where does it sit? In your chest? Behind your eyes? Off to the side?
- Does it sound like someone from your past?
When I finally paid attention, I realized my inner voice sounded like every unkind teacher, partner, and disappointment I’d ever known—braided together in a tone I wouldn’t use on anyone else.
But somehow, I used it on me.
Changing the Voice: My Personal Reframe
One day, something clicked.
I had just torn myself apart in the mirror, again. And I caught the voice mid-rant.
It wasn’t even mine.
So I said, “What if this voice sounded different?”
And I chose 'Morgan Freeman'.
Yes, that Morgan Freeman—because if someone was going to narrate my inner world, I wanted it to feel 'wise, warm, and unshakably calm.'
So now instead of:
“You’re failing again.”
I hear:
“You are becoming. And becoming takes time.”
Instead of:
“You look awful.”
I hear:
“This body has carried you through every storm. It deserves your tenderness.”
That shift? Changed everything.
A Method From NLP: Restructuring the Inner Critic
This isn’t just imagination—it’s a real technique used in Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP).
It’s called 'submodality shifting on inner critic' , and here’s how it works:
Step 1: Notice the Voice
Stop and ask:
- Where is it located? (Behind you? Inside your head?)
- What does it sound like? (Fast? Sharp? Cold?)
- Who does it remind you of?
Awareness is the first tool. You can’t change what you don’t notice.
Step 2: Change the Structure
Here’s the fun (and powerful) part.
Try playing with it:
- Move the voice to your foot, or even your left shoulder.
- Turn it into a squeaky cartoon voice.
- Imagine it coming from a goat, a robot, or your least favorite politician.
- Speed it up until it’s unintelligible, or slow it down until it sounds like it’s falling asleep.
- Imagine it echoing from a different room entirely.
Your brain will instantly stop taking it so seriously.
Why? Because the structure of thought affects its emotional power
Step 3: Choose a New Voice
Once the old critic has softened or dissolved, ask:
“Who would I rather hear from?”
It might be Morgan Freeman for you, too.
Or your grandmother.
Or your therapist.
Or even yourself*—but gentler, wiser, kinder.
Let that voice speak to you. Rewire the message.
Bonus Trick: Loosen Your Tongue
This sounds weird, but it's incredibly effective:
When your inner critic ramps up, relax your tongue.
Why?
Because internal dialogue = subvocalization.
Your brain subtly activates your mouth and tongue muscles when thinking in words.
Relaxing the tongue disrupts the loop and helps thoughts soften or stop altogether.
Try it. Unclench your jaw. Let your tongue rest.
Watch the noise settle.
A Mirror Practice That Actually Helps
Instead of standing in front of the mirror looking for what’s wrong, I try this:
1. Look into your eyes.
Not your skin. Not your flaws. Your eyes.
2. Ask:
“What am I proud of today?”
“What’s working?”
“What have I survived?”
3. Whisper something kind.
Even if you don’t believe it yet. Especially if you don’t.
- “I see you.”
- “I’m still here.”
- “I’m proud of you.”
- “You’re learning.”
Final Thought: You Are Not the Voice — You’re the One Who Listens
You are not the critic.
You are the witness of the critic.
That means you have the power to change the voice.
And since your brain believes what it hears…
Make sure it hears something worth believing.
“You are allowed to be both a masterpiece and a work in progress, simultaneously.”
Bush, S. (widely circulated in self-help communities)
“Your body is not a problem to fix. It’s a home to care for.”
McBride, H. L. (2021). The Wisdom of Your Body.
“Words matter. Especially the ones we say to ourselves.”
Me, finally listening in a different way
Supporting References
Self-Compassion & Inner Voice
Neff, K. (2011). Self-Compassion: The Proven Power of Being Kind to Yourself.
Brown, B. (2010). The Gifts of Imperfection.
NLP and Submodality Shifts
Bandler, R., & Grinder, J. (1979). Frogs into Princes: Neuro-Linguistic Programming.
Andreas, S., & Faulkner, C. (1994). NLP: The New Technology of Achievement.
Inner Speech & Subvocalization
Kross, E. (2021). Chatter: The Voice in Our Head, Why It Matters, and How to Harness It.
Vygotsky, L. S. (1986). Thought and Language.
Neuroscience of Language and Thought
Baars, B. J. (1997). In the Theater of Consciousness: The Workspace of the Mind.
Siegel, D. J. (2010). The Mindful Therapist.
Letting go and how it actually felt for me
By Monika Bukowska-Brown
“You only get one life. It's actually your duty to live it as fully as possible.”
— Jojo Moyes, Me Before You
Letting go is not something that came naturally to me. In fact, for years I wasn’t even aware I was holding on to anything. I thought I had “moved on.” But my body — and mind — told a different story.
The idea of emotional release always sounded nice, even poetic. Just let go. But no one really tells you how. I wanted it to be quick, a light switch, a breath — and then peace. But for me, it started with something else entirely:
A lump in my throat.
It wasn’t painful. It wasn’t even dramatic. It just… sat there. Quiet, tense, familiar. And I didn’t know what it meant at first.
I Didn’t Know What I Was Feeling
I began reading Letting Go by Dr. David Hawkins at a time when I was physically and emotionally tired. I was looking for a way to feel lighter. I came across a sentence early on that stuck with me:
“We hang on to our negativity because of pride, because it fuels the ego, and because letting go of it is unfamiliar.”
— Letting Go, Chapter 2
That line hit something in me. Maybe I was holding on — not consciously, but out of habit, out of self-protection.
I followed the steps: feel the feeling, don’t resist, don’t label, just allow it. But when I sat quietly, I couldn’t even name the feeling. It was just this vague unease stuck in my body. I kept focusing on my throat, hoping something magical would happen — a big shift, a burst of clarity. Instead… nothing.
And to be honest? I felt disappointed. It was like waiting for a wave that never came.
Learning to Sit With Discomfort (Without Expecting Anything)
I kept reading, not just Hawkins but others too. In The Untethered Soul, Michael Singer writes:
“Eventually you will see that the real cause of the problem is not life itself. It's the commotion the mind makes about life that really causes the problems.”
That helped me loosen my grip — not on the emotion, but on the expectation of change. I stopped looking for a result. I started showing up just to feel. Without an agenda. Without fixing.
The second time I sat with that lump in my throat, I didn’t try to push it away or break it down. I simply acknowledged, “Okay. You’re here. I’m here too.” It sounds simple, but for me, that was a small shift — and it mattered.
Eventually, the sensation softened. Not gone, not transformed, but less intense. Over the weeks, it came and went. Then, one day, I realized it hadn’t been there for a while. I hadn’t made it leave. I had simply stopped gripping it.
The Body Always Knows
Reading The Body Keeps the Score reminded me that this healing didn’t need to be logical or verbal:
“The body keeps the score: If the memory of trauma is encoded in the viscera, in heartbreaking and gut-wrenching emotions, then it needs to be accessed and released physically.”
— Bessel van der Kolk
So I stopped looking for words and instead looked for sensations — tightness, heaviness, energy shifts. For me, letting go wasn’t dramatic. It was quiet, subtle, physical.
It wasn’t about replacing sadness with joy, or anxiety with peace. It was about creating space around those feelings — enough room to breathe.
What Letting Go Looks Like (For Me)
It looks like…
Noticing the tension before trying to name it.
Giving up the need for it to go away instantly.
Sitting with yourself like you would with a friend — patient, curious, soft.
Feeling the discomfort… and staying anyway.
And when the mind gets loud again — “This isn’t working!” “You’re doing it wrong!” — I remember Hawkins’ advice:
“Letting go is like the sudden cessation of an inner pressure or the dropping of a weight. It is accompanied by a feeling of relief and lightness.”
Yes, sometimes it does feel that way — but not always at first. That relief came for me later, after many small, mostly unnoticed shifts. But it came.
Final Thoughts
Letting go, for me, was never a one-time event. It’s something I practice now — regularly. Less a method, more a mindset. It’s not about fixing emotions; it’s about allowing them to move through.
So if you’re in the middle of it — sitting with that lump, that ache, that tightness — know that you're not alone. You don’t have to name it. You don’t have to solve it. You just have to feel it and let it be.
And that alone is enough to begin.
References and suggested reading:
Hawkins, D. R. (2012). Letting go: The pathway of surrender. Hay House, Inc.
van der Kolk, B. (2014). The body keeps the score: Brain, mind, and body in the healing of trauma. Viking.
Singer, M. A. (2007). The untethered soul: The journey beyond yourself. New Harbinger Publications.
Maté, G. (2019). When the body says no: The cost of hidden stress. Vintage Canada.
Brach, T. (2003). Radical acceptance: Embracing your life with the heart of a Buddha. Bantam.
When the Walls Are Closing Down: A Therapist’s Personal Journey Through Overwhelm and Recovery
Monika Bukowska-Brown
"You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them."
— Maya Angelou
There are moments when life comes crashing down without warning—like a wave that engulfs everything in its path. For me, it happened in the space of five minutes. Work, health, family, private life—everything unraveled, all at once. I felt like the walls were closing in, the floor falling beneath me into a bottomless pit of despair. I lay there crying, shouting, then silent—terrified of what tomorrow might bring.
And I’m a therapist. I’m trained to help others move through their darkest days. I know the tools. I teach the strategies. But nothing shields us completely from life’s unexpected collapse. Pain doesn’t discriminate.
This is the story of how I used what I teach to find my way back—one day at a time.
Day One: Feeling Sorry for Myself
I gave in. I curled into the sadness and allowed myself to feel the full weight of the moment. Grief, anger, helplessness—letting it all in. Not resisting the pain, but honoring it.
“The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.”
— Carl Rogers
This wasn’t failure. This was the beginning of healing.
Day Two: Anger at the Universe
From sorrow came rage. At life. At circumstances. At how unfair it all felt. Anger, though uncomfortable, became my companion and catalyst. It reminded me I still had fire inside me. Emotion is energy—and energy can be redirected.
Day Three: Remembering My Own Strength
I asked myself: Am I not the person who supports others through breakdowns? The person who teaches resilience and strength?
Yes. I am.
And now, it was time to turn those tools inward.
“She remembered who she was and the game changed.”
— Lalah Delia
Day Four: Reframing Through NLP
I turned to Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP), a model of communication and personal development that focuses on how we structure our thoughts. NLP taught me that meaning is not inherent—it's interpreted. And I could shift my interpretation.
“It’s not what happens to you that makes the difference, it’s how you interpret what happens to you.”
— Richard Bandler, co-creator of NLP
Yes, my life felt like ruins. But ruins are where new structures can begin. I reframed the collapse as a reset—a harsh one, yes—but a clean slate for new opportunities. NLP also teaches that we already have all the internal resources we need. Sometimes, they’re just buried beneath layers of beliefs or past pain.
Day Five: There Is No Past, Only Thought
That’s when I remembered Jørgen Rasmussen, a provocative hypnotist and author of Provocative Hypnosis, who challenges how we think about memory.
“There is no such thing as the past—only thoughts labeled as the past.”
It’s a mind-bending idea, but deeply freeing. The past is a memory—a thought in the present. The future is a projection—also just a thought. What we experience is filtered through our emotions, beliefs, and current perspective. That means we can update it.
Think about it: Do you remember an event the same way now as you did a week after it happened? Or three years later? Likely not. The memory didn’t change—but your relationship to it did.
That’s power. That’s freedom.
Day Six: Seeing Through the Walls – Enter CBT
The metaphorical walls were still there—but now, they were see-through. I was ready to analyze, not just react. I began writing down my emotions and unpacking their roots. Many of them weren’t even about the current situation. They stemmed from old, unresolved patterns—childhood fears, internalized doubts, stories I’d told myself for years.
That’s where Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) helped. CBT teaches us that our thoughts shape our emotions, and by identifying distorted thinking, we can rewire how we feel and act.
“Change your thoughts and you change your world.”
— Norman Vincent Peale
Day Seven: A Solution-Focused Future
I started shifting my focus with the help of Solution-Focused Brief Therapy (SFBT). Instead of endlessly exploring the problem, I began asking: What do I want instead? and What small step could make things just a little bit better today?
Solution-focused work doesn’t ignore pain—it simply builds toward possibility.
The Journey Isn’t Linear – And That’s Okay
Of course, this summary skips over the messy, nonlinear nature of healing. Sometimes, progress looks like three steps forward, two steps back. Some days you’ll feel strong, and others you’ll break again.
But one truth anchors me: nothing lasts forever. No emotion is permanent. No wall is impenetrable. The road might twist, pause, or break—but it continues.
“Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.”
— Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat Pray Love
Final Thoughts
If you’ve ever felt like the walls are closing in—know that you’re not alone. Whether you’re a therapist or a student, a CEO or a caregiver, the human experience doesn’t spare anyone. But within that experience is the capacity to rebuild.
Every tool I’ve mentioned—NLP, CBT, SFBT—is just one path forward. What matters most is remembering that there is a path. And that you are worthy of walking it.
Recommended Resources & References:
Bandler, R., & Grinder, J. (1979). Frogs Into Princes: Neuro Linguistic Programming.
Rasmussen, J. (2010). Provocative Hypnosis.
Burns, D. D. (1999). Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy.
Ratner, H., George, E., & Iveson, C. (2012). Solution Focused Brief Therapy: 100 Key Points and Techniques.
Brown, B. (2012). Daring Greatly.
Rogers, C. R. (1961). On Becoming a Person.
Gilbert, E. (2006). Eat Pray Love.
When the Body Speaks: What Pain, Weight, and Emotions Reveal
By Monika Bukowska-Brown
Have you ever wondered why a specific part of your body hurts—especially when doctors have no clear explanation?
Or why, despite doing everything “right,” you just can’t seem to lose weight?
That was me. For years, I carried a deep ache in my upper back, between my shoulder blades. Years of physiotherapy and countless doctor’s appointments helped, but the ache was still there. I was desperate. I started to look at it from a different angle and realized that it wasn’t just muscle strain. It was emotional weight—over-responsibility, guilt, and the emotional burdens I unknowingly carried for others. I wanted to help, to fix, to hold space for everyone. And my body held it too. Until it couldn’t.
Pain Is Not Always Just Physical
Our bodies speak a language many of us were never taught to understand. A lowered head, rounded shoulders, or constant back pain might seem like posture issues, but what if they also reflect years of emotional suppression or attempts to make ourselves small—or safe?
As I began to explore emotional healing, I encountered the work of Alexander Lowen, founder of Bioenergetic Analysis. He believed the body physically shapes itself around our emotions, trauma, and beliefs. His famous line, "The body never lies," struck me deeply. According to Lowen, chronic muscular tension is the physical manifestation of suppressed emotional experience, often linked to early developmental trauma [1].
Weight as Protection
For years, I struggled with my weight. I tried everything - healthy eating, exercise, tracking macros, calorie control. Nothing worked. Eventually, I gave up, thinking it would never change.
And then I changed my job—and the weight began to melt away.
That shift made me reflect deeply. In my previous role, I constantly felt I needed to protect myself. I had to be “stronger,” “tougher,” more “visible.” Subconsciously, my body responded by making itself larger.
According to Recall Healing, a method developed by Dr. Gilbert Renaud, the body can store unresolved emotional conflicts as physical symptoms. In this approach, excess weight may be connected to themes of protection, safety, or invisibility [2].
Once I left that environment and no longer needed to feel guarded or dominant, the weight began to fall away—without any extra effort. My body no longer needed the armour.
Connecting the Dots
My body clearly showed me the missing piece of the puzzle. My emotions, experiences, and feelings had a direct impact on how I felt and how my body responded to my life. It became a fascinating journey to explore other health issues and research similar experiences.
Recall Healing, letting-go techniques, and bioenergetic practices suggest that physical symptoms are related to unresolved emotional conflicts—and that healing those emotional wounds can bring physical relief [2][3].
For example, chronic pain or unexplained health issues may stem from unacknowledged grief, repressed anger, or fear rooted in early childhood or even inherited trauma. Excess weight, in particular, is often linked to a lack of safety, the need for space, or internalised shame [4].
This doesn’t mean emotions are the sole cause of illness—but they are often an overlooked contributor.
Listening to the Body
We hold our bodies in specific ways because of our fears, beliefs, and past emotional wounds. Over time, tissues adapt and conform to support our emotional state. This is why the body becomes, as Lowen said, a "walking autobiography."
When we repress emotions like anger or sadness, they don’t disappear—they get stored in the body. In my case, years of putting others’ needs first, suppressing frustration, and pushing through exhaustion turned into physical pain and chronic tension.
So, What Can We Do?
The most important step is awareness—tuning in to your body with compassion and kindness. Listening to its aches and signals without anger or frustration. Appreciating the work it does and the strength it holds, even when it doesn’t feel that way.
Then, find what works for you on the path to healing.
You might explore practices like:
- Breathwork
- TRE® (Tension & Trauma Release Exercises) [5]
- Craniosacral therapy
- Conscious movement / somatic experiencing
Or perhaps, like me, you’ll resonate more with Lowen’s approach—using physical expression such as crying, punching a pillow, or free movement to release trapped energy.
Whichever technique you choose, remember: therapy plays a vital role. In a safe, supportive space, we can begin to explore the roots of emotional holding patterns and gently release them. Many clients are astonished to discover how much grief, fear, or shame has been quietly living in their bodies for years.
Final Thoughts: Your Body Knows
If you’re dealing with chronic pain, persistent tension, or unexplained weight issues, please know this: your body is not failing you.
It’s protecting you.
It’s carrying a story that deserves to be heard.
When we stop fighting our bodies and start listening to them, healing becomes possible—not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually too.
You are not broken.
Your body remembers.
And it’s inviting you to remember, too.
References & Suggested Reading
Lowen, A. (1975). Bioenergetics: The Revolutionary Therapy That Uses the Language of the Body to Heal the Problems of the Mind. Coward, McCann & Geoghegan.
Renaud, G. (2012). Recall Healing: Unlocking the Secrets of Illness. Bio-Bel.
van der Kolk, B. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Penguin Books.
Pert, C. B. (1999). Molecules of Emotion: Why You Feel the Way You Feel. Scribner.
Berceli, D. (2008). The Revolutionary Trauma Release Process: Transcend Your Toughest Times. Namaste Publishing.