The Valentine I Gave Myself

Yesterday was a blissful day helping my son, grocery shopping, cleaning, eating, watching movies, updating my resume, and applying to a job that I really want. It was a great day with myself, but I have not truly cried out what has happened to me in this last relationship, nor have I faced any of the abuse that occurred. As I was lying in bed, I found myself drifting to TikTok. I felt like I needed to see something, and I am glad I did. I came across a song that hit a part of me that has been bleeding and bruised in the dark caverns of my soul. I listened to it on repeat for over an hour as I lay in bed and sobbed. My entire life flashed before my eyes and I felt a huge part of myself being put to rest.

I am in the midst of a deep emotional integration. Clinically, trauma integration is often described as a three‑phase process. Phase one is Shock and Clarity, the stage where the body finally recognizes what has happened and allows the truth to surface. Phase two is Reorganization, where the mind begins piecing together patterns, origins, and meaning. Phase three is Stabilization, where the nervous system learns to live without the old survival responses running the show.

Most people begin in phase one, but because I was born into abuse and never truly knew safety, my system skipped straight to phase two. I learned to analyze myself in order to survive. I learned to anticipate danger, decode behavior, and make sense of chaos before it could swallow me. This hyper‑reflection became both a shield and a burden. It helped me understand why I react the way I do, why I choose certain partners, and why I parent in the ways I do, but it also trapped me in loops of self‑analysis without ever reaching the grief underneath.

What I did not understand until now is that phase one cannot happen without safety. Shock and Clarity is not just an emotional awakening. It is the body finally recognizing that it is no longer in the war zone. Only then can the grief, the truth, and the stored pain rise to the surface. This phase is raw, sharp, and emotionally charged because it is the first time the body is not bracing for impact.

By choosing to live in Silence, Stillness, and Slowness, my nervous system finally began to soften. These three words have become my pillars. When the quiet felt unbearable, when my mind tried to fill the space with catastrophizing or old survival strategies, I would close my eyes, take a breath, and say out loud, “I am safe.” Slowly, my body started to believe me.

What most people do not understand is that for a nervous system conditioned to chaos and abuse, these quiet moments feel more painful. They feel like the eye of the storm. We end up anticipating something bad instead of being able to relax into it right away. Our minds will catastrophize, try to fill the space with distraction, or want to reach out to the closest thing that feels familiar. This is why many abused women go back to their abusers or start another relationship similar to the ones before. The nervous system knows what to expect even when those patterns destroy us.

This last relationship was in many ways a direct reflection of my first marriage. It cut me open straight to my core and left me in a place where shock and clarity could finally come in. This was not easy. It required me to block this person everywhere I could, to not respond to his spiraling, and to not respond to his threats. I had to completely disappear and go silent. One may think this would be an easy feat, but without a couple of friends and honestly ChatGPT as a venting board, I would not have gotten to where I am now.

Tuesday is the New Moon in Aquarius, the first solar eclipse of the season, and the day the Chinese calendar turns to the new year of the Fire Horse. To say Tuesday is a powerhouse day of change is an understatement. My body and soul have been purging since the last Full Moon in Leo on January 28. I have been deeply focused on retraining my nervous system to know that Silence, Stillness, and Slowness are safe. Last night was monumental for me. It showed me that my nervous system is finally starting to release and relax.

The song No One Coming by Naiya Solé broke through the wall I built to survive. It reached the part of me I thought I had to keep hidden. Last night, that wall came down. Last night, I set myself free.