When the Body Knows Before You Do

I’ve been thinking lately about the phrase, the body keeps the score.

Not necessarily in the literal sense that every headache, stomach ache or sleepless night can be traced back to something emotional.

Bodies are complicated things, and sometimes being ill simply means being ill.

But I do wonder whether our bodies occasionally understand a situation long before our minds are prepared to admit it.

Looking back at one particular period of my life, I seemed to be ill constantly.

I was exhausted.

Run down.

Something always seemed to be wrong.

At the time, I treated each thing separately and carried on, because that’s what most of us do.

What I didn’t really consider was how emotionally unsettled I was.

Nothing felt obviously dramatic at the time.

There wasn’t some permanent state of crisis.

Life carried on.

And so did I.

But underneath it all, I don’t think I ever completely relaxed.

It’s only with distance that I’ve realised there’s a difference between appearing fine and actually feeling at peace.

You can function perfectly well.

Laugh.

Work.

Socialise.

Get on with life.

While somewhere beneath the surface, your body remains on alert.

And perhaps you can live like that for so long that eventually it just feels normal.

But your nervous system doesn’t necessarily agree.

We hear a lot now about being “regulated” and “dysregulated”.

Strip away the therapy language and the idea is actually quite simple.

When we experience prolonged stress or uncertainty, our bodies can respond.

A racing heart.

Tight shoulders.

Broken sleep.

That knot in your stomach.

The strange feeling of never quite being able to switch off.

Our bodies are remarkably good at preparing us for danger.

The trouble is, they aren’t always so good at knowing when the danger has passed.

And here’s the part I’ve found most interesting.

Sometimes we call that feeling chemistry.

We mistake unpredictability for excitement.

Anxiety for butterflies.

And the enormous relief we feel when everything is good again?

We mistake that for happiness.

Because the good moments feel so good, we don’t always notice how much energy we’re spending recovering from the difficult ones.

I can only speak for myself, but with hindsight, I wonder whether my body was trying to tell me something my heart wasn’t yet ready to hear.

Not necessarily:

“This person is making you ill.”

Something much simpler.

“You don’t feel at peace here.”

Perhaps that’s something we should pay more attention to when we talk about love.

Not just whether somebody gives us butterflies.

Makes us laugh.

Makes our heart race.

But what happens to us when we’re around them.

Do our shoulders drop?

Do we sleep peacefully?

Can we breathe a little easier?

Can we simply be ourselves?

Because I’m beginning to think peace isn’t boring at all.

Maybe the person who makes your heart race isn’t always the person your heart needs.

Maybe love isn’t supposed to leave you constantly trying to find your equilibrium again.

And maybe one of the greatest lessons we can learn is that calm doesn’t mean there’s no spark.

Stability doesn’t mean there’s no passion.

Peace doesn’t mean settling.

Sometimes peace is the sign that you have finally found somewhere you don’t have to brace yourself.

And sometimes, long after our minds have created every excuse imaginable and our hearts are still trying to hold on, the body has already worked it out.

We just have to become quiet enough to listen.

REFLECTION TOPICS:

Relationships

Emotional wellbeing

Stress and uncertainty

Inner peace

Self awareness

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Obsession and the Myth of Being Chosen

Almost Everything Works Again If You Just Unplug It. Including You.

P.S. I Love You and the People Who Never Really Leave Us

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