Reclaiming Safety, Reclaiming Myself
There are moments in healing where the past comes rushing forward, not because I’m still trapped in it, but because mt body finally feels safe enough to let the memories rise. Lately I’ve been understanding just how deeply certain experiences from my marriage shaped the way my body reacts, especially in moments of intimacy.
Growing up in a strict household and having my ex as my “first everything,” I never had a chance to explore my own boundaries, desires, or comfort on my own terms. I learned early on to prioritize keeping the peace. When certain situtaions made me uncomfortable, I swallowed the discomfort, told myself it wasn’t worth the conflict, and let my body go silent. Over time, that silence turned into habit- one that my heart didn’t choose, but my survival did.
There were moments in my marriage where intimacy didn’t feel like closeness; it felt like pressure. My body learned to brace, to freeze, to protect itself. I didn’t understand it at the time. I just knew that some positions made my chest tighten, some touches made me want to pull away, and sometimes my instance was to cover myself or cross my legs. I thought something was wrong with me. Now I know the truth: my body wasn’t rejecting intimacy- it was rejecting discomfort, fear, and being unseen.
Recently, with someone who truly cares for me, I had a moment where an old memory surfaced. A familiar position suddenly brought back feelings I didn’t expect, and my body reacted before my mind did. I asked him to stop and he did-immediately.
No anger. No guilt. No frustration.
Instead, he held me, listened to me and reminded me with his action that intimacy should never hurt, and vulnerability should never be punished.
That moment showed me something I never had before: safety
The kind where I could shed tears without shame, speak my truth without fear, and feel comfort instead of tension. For the first time, I experienced what it means to be met with patience, gentleness, and emotional presence.
In that moment, I realized I am not broken.
I am healing
I am unlearning years of bracing myself.
I am letting my body trust again- slowly, softly, in its own time.
I know that eventually, the things that once triggered fear will become new memories rooted in safety and tenderness. But I am not rushing. My body has waited long enough to be listened to, and now it finally has a voice.
Healing isn’t about forgetting the past-it’s about understanding it, reclaiming myself from it, and allowing love to look and feel different than it ever did before.
I’m proud of myself for speaking up. I’m proud of myself for recognizing the difference between pressure and connection. And I’m proud that I’m finally allowing myself to experience intimacy that feels safe, respectful, and mutual.
This is the kind of reflection I want future- me or anyone reading this to remember:
You deserve to feel safe in your own body.
You deserve gentleness.
You deserve a love that listens.
And healing begins the moment you choose yourself.
