Attuned Fragments

As I sit with myself and reflect on this journey, I can feel the weight of what it means to be healing from a mother wound. There’s a deep ache, a longing I’ve carried with me for so long, one that shaped how I saw myself, how I moved through the world, and how I learned to survive. In many ways, I’ve over-functioned, over-given, and tried so hard to meet expectations, not just from others but the ones I unknowingly inherited. But underneath it all, I’ve always felt frozen. It’s like my heart and spirit have been waiting for permission to thaw, to rest, to breathe.

This frozen state has lived inside me, often silently, sometimes loudly, but always present. It’s the product of years of pressure, the pressure to be what I thought I needed to be for love, for approval, for safety. The pressure to be more, to be better, to prove that I was worthy. But now, I realize that pressure is what froze me in the first place. It wasn’t a lack of trying or not doing enough; it was my body, my heart, my soul telling me I needed ease. I needed a softness, a release from this relentless drive to perform. I no longer need to heal quickly or perfectly, not anymore. Healing, for me, is not a destination or a goal; it’s a way of being, a way of offering myself the space to just be without shame or judgment.

I now understand that what I’ve craved for so long was attunement. For years, I felt unseen, unheard, and misunderstood, not just by others but eventually by myself. It wasn’t the one time someone dismissed my feelings; it was the many times. It was the accumulation of moments where I didn’t feel met, where I didn’t feel fully received. And those moments planted the seeds of freeze. My body learned that if no one was going to hear my cry for help, I had to shut down. That’s where the freeze took hold. But now, I am learning to attune to myself. I’m practicing how to hear the quiet whispers of my body, the parts of me that are still holding onto the pain, the fear, the unmet needs.

This attunement is not something that happens overnight, nor is it a one-time fix. It’s a commitment, a commitment to meet myself with compassion, to listen when I feel triggered, to hold space for the parts of me that feel scared or stuck. I am unlearning the belief that my needs are too much or that they will go unheard. I am learning that it’s okay to take up space, to express, to feel, and to demand what I deserve. And with each moment of attunement, I remind myself that I am worthy of being seen, of being heard, of being met.

The freeze also speaks to how far I’ve drifted from my own truth. In so many ways, I’ve run from myself, avoiding my needs, my boundaries, and my authentic expression in favor of what I thought would keep me safe. I became a chameleon, adapting to what others wanted, molding myself into someone more palatable, more acceptable, all in an effort to survive. But now, I am ready to reconnect with myself. I am ready to reclaim the parts of me I abandoned in order to please, to fit in, to be loved.

This reconnection is vulnerable, and sometimes it feels like walking into unknown territory. But I know that the freeze wasn’t a weakness; it was a defense. It was my body’s way of protecting me from pain, from rejection, from loss. And now that I’m surrendering to the healing era of my life, I understand that the way forward is not about forcing myself to be different; it’s about reconnecting with who I already am. I no longer have to hide. I no longer have to be small. I no longer have to run from my truth.

I am learning that being myself is safe.

It’s a truth that I am slowly, lovingly reminding myself of every day. And as I walk this path of healing, I feel the layers of freeze starting to thaw. I feel the warmth of my own compassion melting away the fear, the pain, and the doubt. I feel myself becoming whole again, not because I’ve fixed myself but because I’ve allowed myself to return to who I’ve always been.

My journey is a sacred journey, with its twists and turns, but I cherish every curve. With each step, I tenderly offer myself the love, the serenity, and the resonance that have always been my birthright. I heal, not out of obligation, but out of a deep, soulful choice, to not reinvent myself, but to gently return to the essence of who I’ve always been, to find home within my own heart.

☥