The Body Forgets Nothing
Numbness is the mind’s silence, not the soul’s. The soul still speaks, even if you haven’t been listening.
OH MY GOD. IT’S HAPPENING.
The book is OUT.
I repeat: OUT.
Healing Thoughts II is live.
Someone hold my emotional support water bottle while I scream.
“Numbness isn’t a lack of feeling. It’s too much feeling held too long without help.”
I sat so still,
the room thought I had left.
Every sound passed through me
like a train refusing to stop.
I learned to hold water in my chest
without drowning,
to carry fire in my gut
without a scream.
People mistook it for calm.
But calm doesn’t throb in the bones.
Calm doesn’t beg for release.
I was a dam
cracked under its own loyalty,
afraid of what would spill
if I let go.
“The soul always knows what to do to heal itself. The challenge is to silence the mind.”
— Caroline Myss
Numbness is rarely emptiness. It is a full container with no safe outlet. The body carries intensity until the weight becomes background noise. What feels like absence is often too much presence, compressed into silence.
Many people confuse this state with strength. They praise endurance, not realizing that what’s being endured is corrosive. The person who looks steady might be the one most at risk. They are living with floods behind closed gates, pretending there is no pressure building.
The shift begins when you stop asking why you feel nothing and start asking what became too much. Numbness isn’t failure. It is survival stretched thin. It’s the body choosing shutdown when expression felt unsafe. The moment you recognize this, the silence starts to speak. And what it says is simple: there is more here than you’ve allowed yourself to carry out loud.
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Before you move on, consider this:
What truth in you has been muffled so long it now feels like absence?
I’ve poured everything into this. Healing Thoughts II: 33 Poems and Meditations for Emotional Renewal is up for order now. These pages carry the deepest, sharpest work I’ve done, and I can’t wait for them to be in your hands.
Scraps + Bandaids:
🕊 New messages drop most weekdays. Quiet, but not gentle.
🔥 Paid subscribers keep the wounds lit long enough to be named.
📚 When the pain overflows, it becomes a book.
🧢 Healing wears well when stitched into something real.
☕ This newsletter runs on coffee and confession.
🖤 Shadow Thoughts carries the pieces too jagged for here.
If this hit a nerve, you’re not alone. Healing Thoughts is where I say the quiet parts loudly. If you’re not subscribed yet, now’s the time. It’s only getting rawer from here.