The Body Remembers: How the Mother Wound Shapes Your Sense of Safety, Self and Connection

You’ve done the therapy.
You’ve journaled your feelings.
You’ve read the books, listened to the podcasts, and told yourself all the right affirmations.

And still… you find yourself overwhelmed in quiet moments.
Anxious in your chest. Tight in your belly. Edgy, tired, and never quite safe enough to fully let go.

You’re not dramatic. You’re not failing. You’re not “too sensitive.”

You’re carrying something old, not just in your mind, but in your body.

This is what the mother wound can look like in your nervous system:

• Maybe you flinch at conflict, even mild tension.

• You might overthink what you say, or stay silent altogether.

• You feel safest when you're “useful,” even if it costs you your peace.

• You rarely cry, unless you're completely alone, and even then, it feels like too much.

• Or maybe you just feel… flat. A little numb. Disconnected from the richness of your life.

These patterns didn’t start in adulthood.
They began in the spaces where something essential was missing.

It’s Not Always What Happened , It’s What Didn’t Happen

Maybe your mother was kind, or doing her best.
Maybe she was unavailable, or gone too soon.
Maybe she didn’t mean to, but she couldn't meet you emotionally.

And your little body adapted.

You became “good.”
You became helpful, independent, small, silent, to stay close.
You learned to read moods, to please, to keep the peace.

That’s not weakness. That’s survival.

But when those protective patterns are never revisited, they quietly shape your adult life. Your relationships, your parenting, your sense of self.

A Short Embodied Practice:

Tending to What Was Missing

If any of this resonates, try this now, just for a minute:

Gently place one hand on your chest and one on your belly.
Let your jaw soften. Let your shoulders drop.
Take a slow breath in… and then an even slower exhale out.

Now imagine a younger version of you, the little one who had to stay small to feel safe.
Let her come into your awareness. Just feel her.

And if it feels okay, whisper inwardly:

“You don’t have to do this alone anymore. I’m here now.”

Let the breath carry that message inward.
This is how repair begins, not through force, but through presence.

The Science Is Clear, And Ancient Wisdom Has Always Known

Early emotional deprivation doesn’t disappear.
It lives in the nervous system.
It’s carried in your vagus nerve, your fascia, your posture, your breath.

It’s why you can’t “think” your way out of the anxiety.
It’s why talking about it sometimes helps, but doesn’t always move it.

To truly heal, the body must be part of the process.

And that doesn’t mean reliving old pain.
It means being met, now, in a way you weren’t back then.

With presence. With softness. With co-regulation.
Not to “fix” you, but to help you feel safe enough to let go of the armour.

This Is the Work I Do With Women — Individually, and in Held

I work with sensitive, considered, quietly strong women who are tired of surviving.

Together, we work with the body gently and respectfully to:

• Rewire the nervous system for safety

• Reclaim emotions that were once too risky to feel

• Reconnect with self-trust, boundaries, and rest

And slowly come home to a version of you that isn’t just “performing” peace, but living it.

You Don’t Have to Do This Alone

You don’t have to hold it all in, or hold it all together.

If this resonates, you’re welcome to work with me one-on-one, or join Held, my therapeutic women’s circle for rest, restoration, and connection.

Held: A Therapeutic Women’s Circle

A calm, nourishing space to regulate your nervous system, soften emotional overwhelm, and reconnect with the woman within — in community.
Learn more or book your place to be Held here →