Learning Not to Brace

 I’m beginning to notice another way my little girl has followed me into adulthood.

She braces.

As a child, I learned to anticipate what might happen next. I didn’t always know when something unpleasant was coming, so my body learned to get ready.

Tighten.

Protect.

Prepare.

I didn’t realize how deeply that pattern had become part of me until I began experiencing physical pain.

Today, I catch myself physically tightening my body as though I can protect myself from whatever might hurt next.

My muscles tense.

My body contracts.

I brace for the next sensation.

It makes sense when I think about the little girl I once was.

She learned that danger could come without warning. Her body was trying to protect her the only way it knew how.

But I’m not that little girl anymore.

We don’t have to brace for everything.

We don’t have to tighten against every sensation.

We can notice what is happening without immediately preparing for the worst.

We can soften, even if only a little.

We can breathe.

We can remind the body:

I’m here.

I’m listening.

You don’t have to protect me from everything.

We are safe in this moment.

I don’t expect myself to stop bracing overnight.

After all, this is a pattern my body learned a very long time ago.

But now I can notice it.

And when I notice it, I have a choice.

I can gently let go.

Not because I know exactly what will happen next.

But because I’m learning that I don’t have to meet every moment already prepared for battle.

Maybe safety isn’t always about protecting myself from what might happen.

Maybe sometimes safety is allowing my body to discover that, right now, I can simply be here.