When the Body Remembers Before the Mind Does

🌿 Where nervous system memory meets the faith that holds us together.

Some days break you in a way you didn’t see coming. Not because you’re weak, but because your body carries stories your mind hasn’t caught up to yet. Today was one of those days for me. I’m sharing this because trauma doesn’t live on a calendar - it lives in the body - and maybe someone else needs to know they’re not alone, and that God meets us right in the middle of the unraveling.

Today broke me.

I woke up already in tears, already feeling this heaviness in my chest - and I couldn’t figure out why. My body knew something before my mind did.

This morning was my first time meeting with Logan’s PT. This whole week is full of evaluations as they begin building his new treatment plan. In the middle of the conversation, his PT asked me a simple question:

“When did all of this start?”

I answered automatically:
“December 3rd, 2024.”

He looked at me and said gently,
“So… one year ago today.”

I glanced at my watch, and it hit me like a wave.
I hadn’t even realized what day it was.
My mind forgot - but my body didn’t.

After that appointment, I went for a cold walk just to settle my breathing before an afternoon packed with four hours of caretaker meetings and social worker conversations. It was one of those days that pulls from every part of you - mentally, physically, emotionally.

By the time we finally made it back to the apartment, Logan was completely spent. After a full day of evaluations and therapies, his legs just wouldn’t cooperate. He had a meltdown at the car from sheer exhaustion and frustration.

And then when we got to the stairs… his legs gave out.
He fell. Hard.

He lashed out at me in the moment - the fear and anger spilling over - and when he gathered enough strength to get up he came to hug me, apologizing through tears. Both of us already in tears.

But that hug… is when I broke.

My nervous system snapped.
Panic hit.
Chest pain.
Shaking.
Throwing up.

My whole body went into survival mode because it finally understood the significance of the day that my mind had been trying to outrun.

This is what trauma anniversaries do.

They show up in the body first.
They whisper before the calendar does.
They ask for gentleness even when we don’t realize why we need it.

You can feel totally “fine,” and then something - a date, a memory, a question, a tone of voice - pulls your nervous system right back into a moment it never fully processed.

If you’ve ever had a day where your emotions didn’t make sense until the very end - you’re not weak or dramatic.

Your body remembers.
Your heart remembers.
And sometimes it all catches up at once.

Tonight, I’m choosing softness.

One breath at a time.
Trusting that God meets us right in the unraveling - not after we pull ourselves together.

Because He never asked us to be strong to be loved.
He asked us to come to Him weary.

And today… I am exactly that.

My prayer is that anyone reading this who is carrying the weight of a hard year feels the nearness of God in their own moments of remembering. He is close to the brokenhearted, gentle with the weary, and patient with the parts of us still healing. May you feel His presence in the places that ache the most - and may His peace meet you right where your strength runs out.