Left-Facet Ache: A Highly effective Messenger for My Deserted Elements

“The physique all the time leads us dwelling… if we’re keen to pay attention.”

For over a decade, I lived in a physique that attempted to inform me one thing I wasn’t prepared to listen to. However finally, it obtained louder—loud sufficient that I might not ignore the message.

It began with migraines—all the time on the left aspect.

Then got here a string of sinus infections and dental points—once more, all the time on the left.

Lumps fashioned in my left breast. Then ache in my left ribs. Then a left-sided numbness that made docs run MRIs for a number of sclerosis. Each check got here again regular. And but my physique felt something however.

At one level, I even developed ache in my left ovary and numbness in my left arm that made on a regular basis duties troublesome. My physique was functioning, technically. But it surely felt like one aspect of me was shutting down. Whispering. Protesting. Holding one thing I wasn’t acknowledging.

I joked for years that the left aspect of my physique was making an attempt to stage a revolt. However beneath the joke, there was a persistent unease. A query I didn’t need to ask out loud: What if my physique is grieving one thing I haven’t let myself really feel?

The Facet I Deserted

On the time, I had simply left an emotionally abusive relationship. I moved to a brand new city the place I knew nobody. I had three younger children and a automotive that hardly labored. My sister had died of breast most cancers not lengthy earlier than—at simply twenty-eight years previous. It was so much. An excessive amount of. However there was no time to disintegrate.

So I stayed in movement. I hardened. I grew to become high-functioning, resilient, all the time “wonderful.” I made positive the payments had been paid and the youngsters had been fed and my ex didn’t discover us. However the price of staying “sturdy” was that I ended being actual.

I didn’t have time for softness. I didn’t have house for grief. I didn’t have vitality to ask for assist, and even admit I wanted it.

Trying again, I notice I didn’t simply go away a relationship. I left myself.

Particularly the softer, slower, extra intuitive elements. The elements that cried simply. The elements that curled up beneath heat blankets and requested for hugs. The elements that allowed pleasure, or creativity, and even relaxation.

These elements felt harmful in a life the place survival was the one precedence.

And so I shut them down.

The Female Facet—Ignored and Infected

In lots of religious and energetic traditions, the left aspect of the physique is related to the female. With receptivity, emotion, instinct, nurturance, the moon, and the mom. The best aspect is usually related to the masculine—doing, pushing, controlling, attaining.

I lived nearly totally on my proper aspect. Doing every thing. Controlling what I might. Shoving each feeling down so deep I couldn’t even discover it anymore.

My left aspect? The a part of me that obtained, softened, surrendered, and felt? She was deserted.

And slowly, painfully, she started to interrupt down.

How My Physique Spoke After I Couldn’t

Trying again now, I see that the signs weren’t random. They had been good. My physique was speaking in the one approach I used to be keen to pay attention—via bodily discomfort. By ache. By sample.

It mirrored the precise elements of me I’d been taught—by trauma, by tradition, by survival—to suppress.

The a part of me that wanted softness. The half that longed to grieve. The half that needed to be held, not simply maintain every thing collectively.

My physique wasn’t malfunctioning—it was mourning.

She was grieving the years I spent in silence. She was exhausted from pretending every thing was wonderful. She was determined for me to come back again to her.

Coming House, Slowly

There was no single “aha” second. No analysis. No main religious breakthrough. Simply sluggish remembering. Tiny rebellions in opposition to the numbness.

I began strolling each morning in silence—no music, no podcast. Simply me, the timber, and the sound of my breath.

I sat exterior with my tea and watched the steam rise as a substitute of scrolling. I held my gaze within the mirror and whispered, “I miss you. Let’s attempt once more.”

I cried after I wanted to. And generally after I didn’t.

I laid my hand on my chest—on the left aspect—and mentioned, “I see you. I hear you. I’m right here.” Some days that was all I might do. Some days, that was sufficient.

There have been setbacks. There have been moments I judged myself for not doing extra. However I stored displaying up with softness, even when disgrace tried to pull me again into survival mode.

I ended forcing pleasure. I ended apologizing for being drained. I ended pretending that “holding all of it collectively” was some form of advantage. As a substitute, I made a quiet dedication to carry myself.

The Invisible Work of Therapeutic

Therapeutic wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t look spectacular from the skin. It was the form of work nobody sees: turning down invites whenever you want relaxation. Letting a load of laundry sit within the dryer whilst you sit along with your emotions as a substitute. Selecting softness when your previous patterns scream for management.

I examine nervous system regulation and the vagus nerve. I discovered how trauma isn’t simply psychological—it’s bodily. It lives within the tissues, the fascia, the breath. It hides in clenched jaws and tight hips and shallow respiratory.

I started doing sluggish, light actions that made me really feel secure in my physique once more—not “match,” not “productive”—simply secure. I allowed myself to stretch like I used to be worthy of house. I let go of the voice in my head that instructed me I wanted to earn relaxation, pleasure, or ease.

I took salt baths and made artwork for no purpose. I danced barefoot within the kitchen with no viewers. I let myself need issues once more—connection, affection, softness, stillness, magnificence.

And little by little, my physique responded.

The ache in my ribs light. The left-side migraines stopped. The numbness disappeared. Not suddenly—however piece by piece. As if my physique was slowly exhaling after holding her breath for years.

The Lesson I Wanted to Study

I used to suppose therapeutic meant “fixing” myself. That the aim was to return to the lady I used to be in the beginning fell aside.

Now I do know: the lady I used to be earlier than by no means felt secure. She was praised for being sturdy as a result of nobody knew how scared she was. She wanted to interrupt down.

What I used to be actually doing wasn’t fixing—I used to be reclaiming. Reclaiming my softness. Reclaiming my reality. Reclaiming the correct to be a human being—not a machine of efficiency and perfection.

And now? I’m nonetheless studying. Nonetheless studying that therapeutic isn’t linear. Nonetheless studying to belief the knowledge of my physique. Nonetheless studying that when one thing aches, it’s not all the time an indication of brokenness—it might be a sign for consideration. For love.

So if you happen to’re studying this and also you’ve been in ache—emotionally, bodily, energetically—I need you to know this:

You aren’t damaged. You aren’t failing. And you aren’t alone.

Typically our ache is solely asking us to decelerate and really feel what we’ve been too afraid to really feel. Typically our signs are sacred messages: Come dwelling to your self. Not as you had been. However as you are actually. Entire. Worthy. And prepared.