Unhinged and healing

Weekly Reflection

I haven’t missed a day of movement, even when my body has been absolutely raging at me. The stomach issues, vertigo, migraines, chronic pain they don’t magically disappear because I’m trying to heal. I just keep showing up anyway.

People see the beach photos, the yoga classes, the pole classes, the coffee moments, the grounding, the “healing girl” shit but they don’t see what it actually costs me behind the scenes.

Every single week I sit in therapy unpacking 40 years of trauma. Forty years of survival mode, toxic coping mechanisms, addictions, people pleasing, abandonment wounds, self-destruction, and becoming versions of myself just to survive spaces that were breaking me. Healing isn’t pretty. It’s exhausting. It’s grieving the person you had to become to stay alive.

I’ve started two courses as part of my recovery plan because I’m trying to rebuild my life properly this time. Learning self-worth, boundaries, emotional regulation, nervous system work all the shit I was never taught. But the reality is, growth overstimulates me too. The lights, noise, conversations, environments… they trigger my FND and PPPD constantly. So I’m stuck in this brutal cycle of needing to push myself while also trying not to completely crash my body.

Movement has become non-negotiable for me. Not because I’m motivated. Not because I’m disciplined. Because if I stop moving, physically and mentally, I spiral. The pool, yoga, pole, walking, stretching it’s not about fitness anymore. It’s survival. It’s nervous system regulation. It’s pain management. It’s trying to reconnect to a body that has held trauma for decades.

Some days I look healed. Some days I look high functioning. Truth is, some days I’m barely holding myself together while still trying to save myself at the same time.

But I’m still here.
Still fighting.
Still choosing recovery even when it hurts like hell.