Have you ever felt something in your body that didn’t match what was happening in the room?

Like someone made a simple comment, and your chest got tight.
Like your partner raised their voice a little, and suddenly it felt like your whole body was under threat.
Or you were in a “safe” space, but your hands were trembling and your jaw wouldn’t unclench.
And then the guilt followed.
I’m being dramatic. I ruined it again. I overreacted.

But what if that wasn’t you losing control?
What if that was your body remembering something your brain tried to forget?

Because sometimes it’s not the moment that hurts — it’s the echo.

We’ve all had to survive things before we had language for them.
The way your father raised his voice.
The moment your mother turned cold.
That teacher who embarrassed you in front of the whole room.
The way you had to pretend you weren’t sad just to avoid being called “too sensitive.”
The men who took your softness and made you feel stupid for it.
The friends who disappeared the moment you had a boundary.
All of it gets stored. Not always in memory. But in sensation.

And now here you are — trying to be healed and regulated and emotionally intelligent.
Trying to “not take it personally.”
Trying to be a safe space, to give the benefit of the doubt.
But your body isn’t interested in sounding mature. It’s interested in survival.
It doesn’t check with your logic before it panics.
It doesn’t ask if now is a good time to be triggered.

It just remembers.

And I need you to know this: that reaction you keep apologizing for?
That shutdown you called dramatic?
That anger you labeled over-the-top?

It didn’t come out of nowhere.

It came from years of silence. From walking on eggshells. From learning how to smile when your soul was screaming.
It came from the part of you that was told your truth was “too much.”
It came from your nervous system trying to get your attention.

You’re not broken. You’re not weak. You’re not regressing.
You’re remembering.

And maybe it’s time you stop rushing to fix it.
Stop turning on yourself every time you feel deeply.
Stop trying to talk yourself out of the very signal that says: Something inside me wasn’t safe back then.

You’re not crazy. You’re not hysterical. You’re not doing too much.

You’re a woman who has learned to live with her own silence.
Who finally feels safe enough to feel what she couldn’t before.

And yes, the timing of it feels messy.
Yes, people won’t always understand.
Yes, you’ll want to explain or over-apologize or retreat.

But maybe — just maybe — your body is giving you one last chance to listen to what she held all those years.

Not to stay in the pain.
But to say: I see you now. You’re safe with me.

So the next time your emotions catch you off guard,
Instead of saying, I overreacted —
Try whispering this:

I remembered. And this time, I didn’t abandon myself.

With Love 

Lydiah