When the Body Says No Before the Mind Does

A gripping visual representation emphasizing the importance of listening to physical signals, as the body often warns of distress before the mind acknowledges it.

There are moments when my body responds before I have time to explain anything to myself.

When certain responsibilities return—airport pickups, medical appointments that are not mine to manage, expectations that override my capacity—my knee pain flares. My nervous system tightens. My sense of safety narrows. This is not a coincidence, and it is not a failure of strength or will.

I live with Post Traumatic Stress related to sexual violence across multiple periods of my life, including during my military service.

I am service connected at 100 percent for Military Sexual Trauma and PTSD. My body has learned, over time, to recognize situations where choice disappears and obligation replaces consent.

Pain, in those moments, is information.

Trauma is not stored only in memory. It lives in the nervous system, in the muscles, in the joints, in the way the body prepares for threat even when the present moment appears ordinary to others. When my body anticipates being placed back into a caretaking role that disregards my limits, it reacts as if danger is near—because, historically, loss of choice has not been safe.

This does not mean I am reliving the past. It means my nervous system is doing what it learned to do to survive.

I have also carried significant grief. I watched my mother die from metastatic breast cancer in 2020. I lost friendships during the isolation and ruptures of the pandemic. These losses matter. They compound. Trauma does not occur in a vacuum; it accumulates when there is no space to recover.

What has become clear to me is this:

I do not have room for continued disregard of my limits.

This is not bitterness.

It is not cruelty.

It is not a lack of compassion.

It is recognition.

I am no longer available to be the container for family systems that do not account for my safety, my health, or my history. When my body says no—through pain, exhaustion, or activation—it is not asking to be overridden. It is asking to be believed.

Trauma-informed living means understanding that boundaries are not punishments. They are protective structures. They exist so that life can continue without further harm.

I am allowed to say:

• I am not available.

• I cannot take this on.

• This exceeds my capacity.

  
  

I do not owe explanations that require me to expose my trauma in order to justify my limits. I do not need to earn rest by enduring more.

Chronic pain, PTSD, and grief are not separate experiences. They speak to each other. When I listen to them together, what I hear is simple and firm:

Enough.

My work—both personal and creative—is rooted in listening without demand. That includes listening to my own body. Especially when it speaks quietly at first. Especially when it speaks through pain.

There is nothing noble about pushing past what has already been too much. There is integrity in stopping.

For me, this is not about withdrawal. It is about survival with dignity.

And that is reason enough.