As I sit down almost every day listening to people share their stories — the moments that changed them, shaped them, and sometimes broke them — I am reminded of how deeply life can transform us. Some stories end with growth and resilience, while others reveal the lingering ache of wounds yet to heal.
I remember my own first heartbreak vividly. It was the kind of pain that consumed everything. I became someone I was not — detached, defensive, and lost. All I wanted was for the pain to stop. But pain has a way of teaching us what peace truly means.
We all cope with pain differently. Some scroll endlessly through social media, losing themselves in a digital world that masks reality. Others turn to drugs, casual sex, or binge-watching — anything that keeps them from sitting in silence with what hurts. Our mind, in its own protective mechanism, shields us from unbearable emotions by distracting us. Psychologists call this avoidant coping — the tendency to seek temporary comfort rather than face uncomfortable truths. Yet, what we avoid only grows stronger in the shadows of our subconscious.
Over time, unresolved pain does not disappear — it finds a home in the body. The body remembers what the mind tries to forget. When we experience trauma, the brain’s alarm system — the amygdala — goes into survival mode, flooding our body with stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline. These reactions prepare us to fight, flee, or freeze, but when the threat passes and the trauma remains unprocessed, the body continues to carry those memories as tension, fatigue, headaches, or even chronic illness.
As psychiatrist Bessel van der Kolk describes, “the body keeps the score.” Muscles tighten where tears were never shed. The chest grows heavy with unspoken words. The stomach aches with emotions we swallowed instead of expressing. Our nervous system stays alert, long after the danger has gone, replaying the emotional echo of a past event as if it were happening now.
Spiritually, unhealed trauma disconnects us from our essence. It clouds our sense of purpose, dims our energy, and distances us from God or the peace within. When pain is buried, it becomes a wall between us and our higher self — the part of us that knows we are more than our suffering.
As I sit in my sessions, I witness something extraordinary — bravery. Individuals sitting across from me, choosing to face the very demons that have torn them apart for years. Their courage humbles me. One of the most courageous things a human can do is to share their deepest traumas — and the choices they made afterward — with someone they barely know. It is not just vulnerability; it is trust in the process of healing.
Healing is not simply a mental exercise; it is a full-body experience. It involves calming the nervous system, breathing life back into the body, and allowing the heart to trust again. It means giving yourself permission to feel — to cry, to tremble, to release. Through awareness, compassion, and spiritual connection, the mind begins to quiet, the body softens, and the soul remembers its light.
Pain is not the end of our story — it is the beginning of awareness. When we stop running from it, we begin to understand that every wound carries wisdom. Healing is not a straight path; it is a sacred journey of coming home to oneself — body, mind, and spirit.
So, to anyone walking through pain — know that your courage to face it is your greatest strength. The moment you choose to confront your truth, you begin the process of freeing your mind, healing your body, and awakening your soul.
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