The Body Keeps Score: I found a Therapist

There’s a moment—quiet but heavy—when you finally admit to yourself that you’re not okay.

Mine came in the middle of what should’ve been a proud season of my life. I was in graduate school, raising a beautiful child, working full-time to hold it all together. I was checking all the boxes that society told me made me “strong.” But inside, I was unraveling.

I lost my mother. I lost both of my brothers. I lost the father of my child. One after the other, without time to catch my breath. And in the midst of all that loss, I was in graduate school, raising a small child, and working full-time just to keep the lights on.

Every day I showed up.

Every day I pushed through.

But my nervous system was quietly screaming for rest, for safety, for repair.

The body keeps the score. And mine was worn out.

Lately, the signs became too loud to ignore—panic when I’m away from home, anxiety that grips me before a trip, exhaustion that sleep can’t fix. I realized: I haven’t truly felt safe in years. I’ve been in survival mode for too long.

So I did something I never let myself do before.

I reached out for help.

I found a therapist. Not because I’m weak. But because I finally chose me. I’m ready to grieve fully, to stop carrying what isn’t mine, and to let someone walk with me through the parts of myself I buried while trying to stay strong for everyone else.

This isn’t the end of the story. It’s the beginning of something sacred: my healing.

To the One Reading This:

If you’re tired, I want you to know—

You are not weak for needing help.

You are not broken because you’re grieving.

You are not a failure because your nervous system is screaming for rest.

You are human. And you are worthy of healing.

This post isn’t just about me—it’s for you, too.

If you’ve been carrying the weight of loss, pressure, perfectionism, or unspoken pain—

It’s okay to put it down.

It’s okay to say: I can’t keep doing this alone.

Healing starts with one step.

And even if your voice shakes, even if you cry through it—take it.

You are not alone. You are not too far gone. You are not beyond healing.

You are in the middle of a sacred becoming.