Weaving It All Together
June 13, 2025
It’s strange to think that just a week ago, I was sitting in therapy, holding the ache of not feeling truly loved by my father.
That deep, quiet loneliness. The kind that isn’t always loud in your mind, but lives in your bones. The kind that made me feel, even as a child, like I had to take care of myself. Protect myself. Be the strong one.
And now, only a few days later, I’m here — reflecting on strength, my body, boundaries, and what it means to let go of old protection strategies that no longer serve me.
It might seem like a completely different focus. But it’s not.
It’s the same wound, just showing itself in a new light.
It’s all interwoven.
There’s a part of me that learned early on that emotional safety was unreliable — that I couldn’t rely on tenderness, presence, or being held. So instead, I turned to something I could control: my body.
Mass. Strength. Power.
If no one could protect me, then I would become the protector.
If no one made me feel safe, then I would make myself untouchable.
And it worked — to an extent.
I did get stronger. I trained. I became capable of defending myself.
But under it all, the loneliness was still there.
What’s been shifting recently is that I don’t feel the need to prove my strength anymore. I know it’s there. I trust it. I feel it in my body — especially when I’m met with disrespect or boundary violations. I know I’ll act in alignment. I know I’ll protect myself or those I love. It’s become natural.
But I’ve also started to notice that I might be holding onto some of this size, this weight, as a lingering relic of that past. Not consciously. But maybe as a kind of emotional armour.
Because being physically big made me feel safe.
And in a world where I didn’t always feel loved, safe was the next best thing.
That’s the beauty of doing this work — it’s not linear. It loops.
One week I’m grieving my father’s absence.
The next I’m celebrating the man I’ve become in response to that absence.
And somewhere in between, I’m learning how to let go of what I no longer need — without shame, and without rushing.
I’m not sure I need to be “strong” in the same way anymore.
Not because strength is bad, but because I no longer need to earn my worth through it.
Not because I’m letting go of protection, but because I trust myself to show up if I ever need to.
This week has been a weaving of old threads:
Loneliness. Strength. Softness. Shame.
But the difference is — this time, I didn’t weave them alone.
My therapist’s presence helped me hold it all.
And even outside the room, I held it with myself.
With blogs. With breath. With awareness.
That’s integration.
That’s healing.
And it doesn’t always feel like a breakthrough.
Sometimes, it just feels like coming home.