My childhood abuse wired me for anxious attachment and a nervous system stuck in fight-or-flight. I chose battlefields too, just without a gun. Growing up in Europe in the ’60s, with WWII still in the walls, that was never an option. Same addiction to intensity, same borrowed sense of meaning.
When the root finally comes into view, the work becomes simpler:
unwind it from the nervous system, one breath, one step at a time.
I'm sorry for the pain that you experienced growing up Gabriel. It sounds like you're finding your way to unwind your nervous system and learn to breathe again.
My childhood abuse wired me for anxious attachment and a nervous system stuck in fight-or-flight. I chose battlefields too, just without a gun. Growing up in Europe in the ’60s, with WWII still in the walls, that was never an option. Same addiction to intensity, same borrowed sense of meaning.
When the root finally comes into view, the work becomes simpler:
unwind it from the nervous system, one breath, one step at a time.
I'm sorry for the pain that you experienced growing up Gabriel. It sounds like you're finding your way to unwind your nervous system and learn to breathe again.
Thank you for the empathy.
My observation is simple: everyone encounters pain in childhood.
I don’t use the word trauma—it comes preloaded with a story that tends to harden rather than open.
I see it differently.
Life is the shaping force.
The stone is carved by the sculptor.
The silence is broken by the musician.
The canvas is stained by the painter.
And we are shaped by life, like clay in the hands of the potter.
What a beautiful reflection 💜
Thank you.
The story we make is the story we live.
Love
Thank you for putting this in writing 🙏🏻 very insightful