Unrooted

Invitation In
Why don’t I feel safe in my body?

Whisper

Sometimes the body doesn’t feel like home.
Not because it’s broken—
but because it remembers
what we tried to forget.

Maybe it tenses before the thought arrives.
Maybe it flinches at kindness.
Maybe it stays still when all you want is to run.

You are not failing.

You are listening
to the soft, stubborn intelligence
of a body that learned how to keep you alive.

This is not disconnection.
This is memory.

And it’s okay
if you don’t yet trust the ground beneath you.
It’s okay
if safety still feels like a foreign language.

This is just the beginning.
You’re not broken.
You’re arriving.

What This Might Be

Feeling unsafe in your body can be subtle or sharp.
It might show up as restlessness, tightness, numbness, chronic tension, or even fatigue that feels immovable.

But this isn’t something to fix.
It’s something to listen to.

Your body might be asking,
“Can we slow down enough to notice I’m here?”

Questions to Carry

• What does “safety in my body” mean to me — if I define it on my own terms?

• When have I felt most in my body, even for a moment?

• What parts of me feel far away — and what might help me return?

Gesture of Care

The 3-Point Return
Sit or lie down with your feet flat. Place one hand on your chest and one on your belly.

Breathe slowly.

Then gently say to yourself:

“I am here.”
“I am safe enough to feel this breath.”
“My body is allowed to take up space.”

Stay for a few moments. Let the contact soften you.

Grace

Safety isn’t a finish line.
It’s a slow returning.
One breath. One sensation. One softened edge at a time.

What feeling arises when you remember that your body is not the enemy?