A Brief Discussion on the Nervous System

Last year, I was told that I had a deconditioned nervous system. At the time, I didn’t fully understand what that meant—but I knew, instinctively, that it was going to start taking up space in my life. And it did. Behaviors I had long accepted as “just who I am” began to unravel, revealing the truth: I had become skilled at neglecting myself.

There are certain habits I now look back on with compassion, recognizing that I developed them as a way to feel safe. Ironically, the very rules and safety behaviors I clung to were quietly harming my nervous system—rippling into nearly every area of my life. I wasn't human-ing properly. I treated myself like a machine—something to be constantly monitored, managed, and optimized—rather than a fleshy, warm-blooded creature in need of care, softness, and rest. 

It’s hard to empathize with the effects of something you can’t see. A scrape on your knee is obvious; you instinctively know where to stop the bleeding. But healing your nervous system requires a different kind of attention—one that takes patience, practice, and a willingness to listen inward. After completely depleting my nervous system of any sense of balance, I made the necessary decision to become human again.

Up until that point, I had been living in a constant state of urgency. Everything felt like it needed to be rushed, and I was willing to trade my peace for the fleeting validation my ego received from doing everything perfectly. The body is powerful—and through it, my nervous system was pleading with me to slow down. It spoke in the language of headaches, panic attacks, and fatigue. It could no longer sustain the mask of the person I had become. For most of my life, I was a high performer—emphasis on performer. I was constantly doing mental acrobatics to please some amorphous entity that, in the end, didn’t even care. Choosing to heal my nervous system began with choosing myself—including all the parts I had been so desperate to hide. It wasn’t a mask I needed anymore; I was yearning for my shadow, the darkest part of me to come forth. 

In embracing and trusting my shadow, I granted myself the freedom to act from a place of true authenticity, which gradually soothed and softened the edges of my nervous system. I no longer punish myself by performing for my ego. While there are moments when its voice feels louder than my own, I've learned to lovingly and neutrally observe it, rather than allowing it to dictate my actions. One of my favorite things to say is: there are no stickers for sacrificing yourself. No one is handing out golden stars for neglecting your health in the chase for more—more money, more status, more power. Quite frankly, I don’t want more stuff or empty, intangible words. I want more ease, more rest, more trust, more compassion—more of less.

So, what does it really mean to heal your nervous system? It means listening, without guilt, to the inner voice that knows exactly what it needs. If you're tired, rest. If you're hungry, eat. If you're excited, dance. If you're sad, cry. Healing comes from embracing your humanity and not pretending to be anything else.

Here are some reframes that I use that have helped me to really care for myself:

• I focus on how my life feels instead of how it looks.
• You do not have to carry what's not yours to feel needed.
• You will get more done when your body is not in a state of panic.
• Acting from fear does not give you the clarity you need.
• I no longer deny myself of my true nature.
• I do not need to be special to be worthy, I am enough as I am.
• Someone else's urgency is not my emergency. 
• The world needs my presence, not just my productivity. 
• You are not missing out on life just because you experience it differently.
• True strength comes from letting other people bear the weight of their own lives while you focus on living yours.
• Slowing down moves me forward.
• Life is not measured by how much you accomplish, it is measured by how deeply you live.