There are things you have forgotten.
Not in the way you forget where you placed your keys.
Not in the way you forget someone’s name.
This forgetting is deeper.
It lives in the places you don’t look.
Because long before the pain… there was something else.
A story. A feeling. A moment in time when your body had to hold something your mind could not process.
A grief too heavy to carry.
A fear too big to face.
An anger too dangerous to express.
And so, the body took it.
Tucked it away, wrapped it in muscle, held it in bone.
It became the tightness in your chest. The ache in your lower back. The tension that never quite leaves your jaw.
Your body remembers.
Even when your mind does not.
The Language of Symptoms
We are taught to silence symptoms.
To chase them away with pills, surgeries, distractions.
"How do I get rid of this pain?" we ask.
"What can I take to stop it?"
But pain is not the problem.
It is the messenger.
A stomach that clenches before speaking may belong to the child who was told to be quiet.
A neck that stiffens at the end of the day may carry the weight of responsibility never shared.
A heart that flutters unpredictably may still be bracing for the moment love will leave.
These are not random malfunctions.
They are memories.
Not in words—but in sensation.
Your body is not fighting you.
It is protecting you.
Healing Begins When We Stop Fighting the Body
To truly heal, we must stop asking:
"How do I get rid of this?"
And instead ask:
"What is my body trying to tell me?"
This changes everything.
Because the moment we stop seeing illness as the enemy, something shifts.
The tension is no longer something to fix—it is a doorway.
The pain is no longer the problem—it is a guide.
The body is not broken. It is speaking.
The only question is—can you listen?
A New Way to See Healing
If you’ve felt this, if you’ve sensed there is something deeper beneath the surface of illness—
then you are already listening.
But knowing is not enough.
We must learn how to interpret what we hear.
To sit with the body’s wisdom,
To ask the right questions,
To guide ourselves—and others—toward something deeper.
Because the body remembers.
Are you ready to understand its language?
"Tucked it away, wrapped it in muscle, held it in bone." The gloriousness this sentence must have conjured as it flowed from your fingertips. The whole piece ebbs and flows so elegantly. Bravo! I am a fan!
I like the style in which you wrote this. It's impactful. The message is a true and honest one; we ignore symptoms at our peril. Thanks for writing this.