A woman sits pensively, embodying the sentiment "What I Will No Longer Explain," conveying a sense of introspection and personal resolve. There was a time when I believed clarity required explanation. If I could just find the right words. If I could make my experience understandable enough. If I could stay calm, reasonable, articulate. Then maybe I would be met with respect. I no longer believe this. Explanation Is Not the Same as Being Heard I have explained myself carefully

A reflective moment emphasizing the importance of rest in the journey of rebuilding at a mindful pace.

After prolonged exposure to harm, the nervous system remains on alert even when the threat is gone. This is not failure. This is momentum. For a long time, the body learned that danger could return at any moment. It does not shut that learning off overnight. Safety must be experienced repeatedly before the system believes it.

The body is always calculating cost. How much energy does it take to be here? How much vigilance is required to stay safe? How long before pain appears? What happens afterward? When the cost of proximity consistently outweighs its benefit, the body begins to pull away.

A woman sits with her head in her hands, embodying the struggle of confronting self-betrayal when coping strategies turn detrimental.

The body is not scanning because it enjoys vigilance. It is scanning because vigilance has been necessary. Pain flares in shared spaces. Muscles tense before words are spoken. Exhaustion follows brief exposure.

For survivors, these conditions are not minor stressors. They mirror the dynamics under which harm occurred before. The nervous system does not wait for impact. It responds to pattern.