We call it illness. But maybe it's a mirror waiting for your return.
I tried it all: to fix the mind, heal the body, awaken the soul, upgrade the self. I healed my trauma. More than one; more than once. I practiced stillness until I was exhausted. And still… the tension lingered. The ache returned. The body resisted. But,
What if it’s not resisting at all? What if the thing you’re trying to fix has only ever been trying to find you?
What If Your Body Isn’t Broken?
She thought her body was betraying her. Every week it was something else: fatigue, pain, fog. Each flare-up made her tighten. Try harder. Blame harder. Until quieter questions broke through: What if this isn’t failure? What if this is a message?
We were taught to see illness as the enemy. A malfunction. A problem to fix. But the body doesn’t betray us.
It reflects us.
It mirrors our mind. And the mind mirrors identity.
When you believe “I am this body” or “I am the doer,” you carry the stress of defending that illusion.
Chronic thought becomes chronic tension. Tension becomes dysfunction.
The body remembers what the mind suppresses. And it doesn’t do this to punish.
It does it to invite.
Illness is born from separation. From self. From silence. From sensation. From understanding.
The moment you leave the body for the story in your head, you lose the signal. And then the body gets louder.
Its scream is called illness. But the origin is disconnection.
This isn’t your fault. That’s the ego speaking again.
Truth doesn’t blame. It sees.
Not “you caused this”… but: Can you meet this without resistance? Can you feel what you left behind?
The body isn’t here to betray you. It’s here to bring you home.
Your Nervous System Was Always Honest
When she cried, it wasn’t because I said something profound. It was because I didn’t look away. Her shoulders curled. Her jaw softened. And for a moment… she let the armour go. That was her nervous system exhaling truth.
Trauma isn’t just what happened. It’s what we never got to complete. It’s the reaction that got frozen in place. The pattern that stayed. And it lives in the body.
We don’t remember the moment it started. But our cells do.
The tension in your belly? Maybe it wasn’t food after all. Maybe it was the time you held your fear in because being strong felt safer.
The shallow breath in your chest? Maybe it wasn’t anxiety. Maybe it was the moment you dimmed your joy so you wouldn’t be left behind.
The nervous system isn’t lying. It just repeats.
Until you listen, soften, and return.
No more fixing. And no more running.
Because every unprocessed truth becomes a loop. And the loops continue until you learn to stay.
This is not your fault. But it is your invitation.
The Body Never Left You
She thought her body had betrayed her. Pain. Fatigue. Tightness that moved but never left. She tried everything — treatments, thoughts, beliefs. Each step forward… another collapse. Until one day, not a miracle, just a murmur: What if the body never left me?
We speak of returning to the body as if it’s somewhere else. As if it’s the wounded one. The abandoned child. The broken machine.
But the body doesn’t abandon. It absorbs. It reflects. It waits.
Like the house you locked yourself out of… the one that always left the porch light on.
You left the moment you tried to fix it. Tried to override its message with mindset, meaning, or more healing.
But sensation was never the enemy. It was the place of return.
The ache was never asking for war. It was asking to be felt.
Ask your jaw what it knows… Ask your gut what it guarded… Ask your throat what it swallowed… to keep the peace that broke you.
The body remembers what the mind forgets.
But it doesn’t punish. It invites.
You don’t need to reconnect.
You need to remember — the body never disconnected.
Even in collapse, it carried you. Even in tension, it protected you.
This isn’t blame. This is reunion.
Pause and Reflect:
What if the body isn’t broken? What if it’s the only part of you that never believed the lie?
A gentle dare:
Don’t fix it today. Don’t transcend it.
Just listen.
Not for a specific message… you’re paying attention so you can notice the moment you stop listening.
Come back. Not to heal it. But to feel it.
The body never left you. You were never not here.
© 2025 Zaheer Merali.
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