I've been thinking a lot lately about what people mean when they say, "Just trust your body."

I've said those words too.

And while I believe they hold so much wisdom, I've also come to believe they're only part of the story.

Because for many of us—especially those who have experienced trauma—living in our body is beautifully healing...and incredibly complex.

There isn't just one voice inside us.

There are parts of us that remember trauma.

Parts that learned how to survive.

Parts that still believe staying hypervigilant, shutting down, people-pleasing, or running away is the safest option.

Those parts aren't trying to sabotage us. They're trying to protect us the best way they know how.

There are also parts of us that know healing is possible.

Parts that recognize safety when it appears.

Parts that quietly guide us toward the people, practices, and tools our body has been longing for.

And then there are the parts that don't fully trust either of those voices yet.

No wonder listening to our body can feel confusing.

This is why I don't believe healing is as simple as "just listen to your body."

I think healing is learning to become curious about the many parts that make up our inner world.

Learning to hear the protective parts without letting them make. every. decision.

Learning to notice the hopeful parts that are gently pointing us toward something new.

Learning to recognize the quiet wisdom that has never left us, even when it has been buried beneath years of survival.

A beautiful thing I've discovered is this:

The person our nervous system has been waiting for...is often us.

Not the version of us that has it all figured out.

Not the version that never gets triggered.

The version that keeps showing up with compassion, curiosity, and a willingness to learn.

The version that gathers tools.

The version that learns how to stay present when memories arise.

The version that doesn't rush the healing.

The version that celebrates even the smallest moments of safety.

The version that listens before trying to fix.

The version that becomes an anchor for the younger, frightened parts inside.

Any other versions you would add?

And another thing I want to add:

We rarely learn to do this alone.

Healing often asks us to borrow someone else's nervous system before we fully trust our own.

We get to choose who those people are.

Not the people who caused the trauma.

Not the people who dismissed it or enabled it.

But the people whose presence feels safe enough for our body to soften.

The people who continue doing their own healing work.

The people who remind our nervous system that relationships can become a place of repair instead of harm.

Living in our body isn't about forcing ourselves to trust.

It's about building a relationship with every part of ourselves, allowing each part to come forward when it's ready…..

And allowing that relationship to slowly become a place where trust can grow.​
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A gentle invitation

Today, I invite you to notice if there's a part of you speaking a little louder than the others.

Is it the protective part?

The hopeful part?

The exhausted part?

The curious part?

Instead of trying to change it, are you able to ask:

"What are you trying to help me with today?"

And If it feels supportive, place a gentle hand where you notice that part most in your body.

What part of your body feels protective? What part is hopeful? What part is exhausted? Or What part is curious?

Then once your hand is there, ask this specific part, the question again - like for me:

I have been feeling protection in my left hip, hopeful in my throat, exhausted in the back of my head, and curious in my sternum and heart. (And if you don’t know the body part, you can put your hand on your heart, belly or forehead).

And the loudest one for me has been exhaustion, so...I put both my hands, gently, on the back of my head and said -

“Exhaustion, What are you trying to help me with today?"

You might be surprised (and also not surprised) by what begins to unfold when even one part feels heard.

For instance - for me - my body responded tonight with jumbled information that said:

“How tired I am of being exhausted. How much my exhaustion actually wants me to have my adventure filled, energetic life back. And that I also want to cry and grieve and without having all the reasons why.”

So I listened and let myself cry and grieve tonight….

None of this is surprising to me and I also feel like a close friend just sat next to me, listened and let me cry out some pain….

And tonight, that close friend was me.

So, whether what you discover feels surprising or ‘not surprising’ (because it confirms something you've known all along), the experience of being deeply seen by yourself is healing.

Sometimes what arises comes in words.

Sometimes it comes as sensation.

Sometimes it comes as tears.

Sometimes nothing seems to happen at all.

Every one of those experiences is welcome.

Every one of them is part of learning to live in your body.

Remember, ❤️

You Matter. Your Healing Matters. You Are Worth It!

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P.S. If you find this gentle practice helpful, I invite you to do this again for more parts of you. And see what your body offers.

And if it seems triggering or scary, please know you can ground, look around your space and come back to safety.

If you need help. Please hit reply or get on a call with me.