As I explore my childhood more deeply, I see things I never understood before.
I realize how little my parents knew about parenting. Their own needs often came before ours, and as a child, I thought that was normal.
The beatings with a belt left lasting wounds.
But I’m beginning to see that some of the deepest wounds were invisible.
No one asked how I felt.
No one taught me that my feelings mattered.
I didn’t feel safe bringing my fears, my questions, or my heart to the people who were supposed to protect me.
I learned to stay quiet, to be careful, and to put everyone else’s needs before my own.
I’ve done a great deal of healing over the years, but I can see there is another layer waiting for me—my nervous system.
It learned very early to stay alert, to brace for what might come next. Later in life, some of my own choices placed even more strain on it.
I can’t change the past.
But I can change how I care for myself today.
My lesson now is simple.
To teach my body that it is safe to slow down.
Safe to soften.
Safe to rest.
These days, I try to live by three gentle words:
Gentle. Simple. Kind.
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