My Brain, My Beliefs, and the Path to Healing
June 07, 2025
A grounded look at how my mind tries to protect me—and how I’m learning to meet it with love instead of shame.
There’s a part of me that still believes I’m unloveable. That I’ll always mess it up. That I’m too much. Or not enough. Or fundamentally wrong in a way that can never be fixed.
These aren’t facts.
They’re stories.
But they’ve lived in me so long, they sometimes feel like truth.
Where It Began
At the core:
- A fear of abandonment.
- A deep, gnawing grief.
- Low self-esteem that gets dressed up as perfectionism or performance.
- A nervous system that doesn’t always trust peace.
I learned early on to scan for danger. To question my worth. To make myself useful or invisible depending on the room.
The Patterns That Keep Me Stuck
When I feel unsafe or triggered, my brain reaches for short-term relief. It wants quick hits of something to soothe the ache.
That’s when I notice the symptoms:
- Scrolling porn or considering sex as a shortcut to connection
- Overeating past the point of comfort
- Pulling away from others
- Skipping exercise
- Falling into poor sleep routines
- Drowning in toxic shame
These aren’t failures. They’re adaptations. They’re what my limbic system clings to when it thinks I’m in danger.
Reclaiming My Power
But I’m not powerless.
I have tools now.
And they come from the part of me that knows better. The part that’s growing stronger every time I choose something different.
Cortex-led tools that heal, not harm:
- Move my body (run, walk, stretch)
- Feed myself well
- Let others in
- Sleep like it matters
- Meditate, even for five minutes
- Read something nourishing
- Take a bath
- Book a massage
- Journal or speak to the child in me who wasn’t protected
- Talk to a therapist and tell the truth
None of these feel as fast or intense as the limbic loop.
But they build something real.
And what I’m learning is that long-term safety is more important than short-term numbness.
The Work
The work is slow. It’s not always Instagram-pretty. Sometimes it looks like choosing a walk instead of isolating. Or eating a real meal instead of hiding with sugar. Or just noticing the shame spiral and naming it, instead of becoming it.
But every time I catch myself reaching for an old coping mechanism, I remind myself:
I’m not broken.
I’m rewiring.
And that’s brave.
If this resonates with you, know you’re not alone.
There’s nothing shameful about the ways we learned to survive.
But we’re allowed to choose better now.
And we don’t have to do it perfectly to be worthy of love.