When I was 25, my doctor sent me to a gut specialist to make a more in-depth assessment of why there were so many physical ailments interfering with my daily life. I had never had any serious health issues before. Never broken a bone or even been stung by a bee. Yet, I was experiencing all kinds of digestive issues, extreme swings in appetite, my immune system was shot, and my brain fog had taken over worse than ever. I felt like an engine that had run out of fuel on the freeway, fumbling and heaving my way to the shoulder of the road just to find a safe place to pull over.

Before the endocrinologist, the doctor sent a referral for me to see a cardiologist for irregular heart palpitations. The nurse communicated to me that I would have to wear a heart monitor for five days so they could analyze its patterns before suggesting what the cause could be. When he instructed me to remove my shirt so he could attach it, I did as instructed. But when he started making comments about my “chest” with a look on his face like he’d just finished eating a pan of his favorite pie, and going out of his way to point out that his oldest son was single, I opted out. I wasn’t interested in spending another minute indulging him, let alone scheduling a follow-up appointment… Even if it meant coming at the expense of my own health.

After weeks and weeks of mailing test kits, doing blood work, recording blood pressure levels, and trying an elimination diet, the specialist concluded I had leaky gut syndrome. Apparently, this is a common condition people suffer from, and an interesting analogy for the physical consequence of sustained, unresolved trauma. “It’s caused by stress” she repeated for what felt like the 400th time. That wasn’t an acceptable answer. “Everyone is stressed,” I thought to myself in response. What did that have to do with all these real, tangible symptoms I was having?

The trauma takeover

When doctors can’t pinpoint the source of chronic health concerns, it’s usually because the culprit is in your head and is now infiltrating your body. Ruling out all other possibilities leaves you with a clear, yet hard-to-understand answer.

The physical effects of unresolved trauma can show up in lots of ways, and to varying degrees. You might experience muscle tension you can’t get rid of. Or maybe it’s manifesting as an addictive tendency, preying on your most vulnerable sensitivities. Festering trauma can also come to life via eating disorders, gut issues (like in my case), skin conditions, or a lapse in sex drive.

How to help yourself

Ever since then, it’s been a journey learning to understand my needs and prioritize my healing. I will cosign that when my mental state is out of wack, it’s pretty consistent for the rest of me to follow. So although I may not be the best at it, I do what I can to weather the storms.

For me, this looks like:

• Uninterrupted self-care time
• Journaling
• Meditation
• Therapy, therapy, therapy
• Listening to music that relaxes my nervous system
• Getting outside, even just for 5 mins
• Taking extra long & scalding hot showers
• Reading a good book
• Making tea
• Doing arts & crafts
• Cleaning

If you can’t afford professional support or therapy, you can still start the necessary journey of parenting yourself. And TBH, even if you can, you should. Revisiting those ugly places from your past and gaining insight into how they impact your internal narrative today, finding coping strategies and implementing boundaries that promote your health rather than commodify it, and incorporating your system of support (friends, family, therapy, self-care time, etc.) into your regular routine are all great places to start.

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