I had a big revelation today about my nervous system.
A deep glimpse into the life I have lived inside this body.
For the first time, I could clearly see the thread running through it all—
push, push, push.
Trying to prove my worth.
Trying to earn love.
Trying to become enough.
I learned to tiptoe in my childhood home.
To stay alert.
To read the room.
To avoid punishment.
To work for safety instead of simply receiving it.
And from there, I married a narcissistic alcoholic.
The marriage itself didn’t last long,
but the damage did.
Because the pattern was already familiar to my nervous system.
Overgiving.
Overfunctioning.
Ignoring my own needs.
I did it in every job I ever had.
Always giving more than I had.
Always pushing harder.
Always trying to prove myself valuable.
I did it in relationships too.
I gave and gave because somewhere deep inside me,
I still didn’t feel worthy enough just to exist as I was.
And then there were the years caring for my grandmother with Alzheimer’s disease.
Eight years of caregiving while also working and raising children.
I can hardly comprehend now what my body carried during those years.
And then came my daughter’s addiction.
Eight more years of terror.
Eight more years of trying desperately to save someone I loved with my whole soul.
There was never anything more painful than watching my daughter slowly slip away while I exhausted myself trying to pull her back.
I got very sick during those years.
My body was already overwhelmed, and still I kept pushing.
I was also working in a job I genuinely cared about, but it was highly stressful too.
Push.
Push.
Push.
Even recovery became another place where I overgave.
I came into recovery carrying a mountain of shame, guilt, and low self-worth from childhood.
I didn’t yet know how to simply be.
So I tried to earn worthiness there too.
Helping.
Giving.
Rescuing.
Showing up for everyone.
Even the things I loved became work.
Creating greeting cards and gift books once brought me joy,
but instead of letting it remain something playful and creative, I turned it into another way to prove myself.
The creating felt good.
The selling never did.
But I forced myself anyway.
Still trying to prove my worth.
And now I look at the pain I live with today—
the nerve pain in my knees, my feet, my bladder, my pelvic area—
all connected to the nervous system.
And suddenly, I see it clearly.
A lifetime of pushing.
A lifetime of overriding my body.
A lifetime of living in survival mode.
My nervous system simply cannot tolerate it anymore.
Today my life is quiet.
Simple.
But the pain is what brought me here.
It took countless painful lessons for me to finally surrender the parts of life that were harming me.
And I owe myself amends for all the years I ignored my own needs.
But I also understand now
that none of it came from cruelty toward myself.
It came from unworthiness.
From lack of nurturing.
From growing up with fear living inside my skin every single day.
My caregivers failed to give me what I needed as a child.
And then I grew up
and abandoned my own needs too.
Not because I was bad.
Not because I wanted to hurt myself.
But because I had never been taught
that my needs mattered.
And now here I am—
standing in this painful, beautiful moment of truth.
Finally listening.
Finally slowing down.
Finally learning that my worth was never something I had to earn.
