No one taught us how much our nervous systems carry.
They just expected us to push through. Be productive. Be polite. Be presentable. Be fine. Even when we were unraveling inside.
But your nervous system remembers everything—the heartbreaks you buried, the tension you shrugged off, the panic you masked with a smile. It holds the story of every moment you didn’t feel safe, and it’s been running on high alert for years, trying to keep you alive.
That’s why rest feels so strange.
Why silence sometimes triggers anxiety.
Why softness feels unfamiliar, like a language you used to speak but forgot.
And yet, choosing now to be kind to your nervous system—slowing down, unclenching, breathing deep—is a revolutionary thing. In a world that rewards over-functioning and emotional shutdown, it’s radical to say, “I don’t want to live like this anymore.”
It’s radical to leave the noise, to choose regulation over reaction, to pick peace over proving.
You don’t need to justify why you’re tired. You don’t have to explain why you’re less available, or why you cry more now, or why you’ve stopped doing things that used to drain you.
You’re not broken. You’re healing.
And the most loving, liberating thing you can do—right now—is to be so gentle with your nervous system, it finally stops bracing for pain.
Let your body learn what safety feels like. Let your soul learn what softness means. Let your life move at the speed of your breath.
That’s not giving up. That’s coming home.