Hi Reader,
I remember when I realized that I couldn't feel my toes. And it was almost a relief compared to the pain that had become my "normal".
That was before fibromyalgia, vestibular migraines and neuropathy.
I used to enjoy hiking and standing in worship. People used to ask me if I had more hours in my day because I was able to accomplish so much by always moving.
Then came the realization that I didn't really feel like I lived in my body anymore. I was in a body filled with pain.
I started to feel like my life was showering on autopilot, driving somewhere and not remembering the drive, sitting through my daughter's soccer game while mentally cataloging which parts hurt and how much.
My body had become something that happened to me. Not something that I actually lived inside of. And it wasn't only physical.
I used to feel God so easily. Especially in worship (which I could no longer stand through), in the quiet of my body finally settling into rest, in ordinary moments outside.
Now, I felt "flat." Numb. Like I was just going through the motions with God. I didn't know if I was having a crisis of faith or I just wasn't able to feel things anymore.
I hadn't stopped loving God. My body continued to work.
The Science
When a body has lived inside chronic pain or chronic stress for long enough, the nervous system can get stuck in a kind of low, quiet hum of self-protection — not full fight-or-flight, but not real safety either. It's frozen somewhere in between.
In a 2018 literature review cited by the National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health, researchers found that mindfulness, stretching, and relaxation techniques may be helpful for easing trauma-related nervous system symptoms — though NCCIH is careful to note that many of those studies were small, and the evidence is still developing.
Separately, NCCIH's review of mind-body approaches for chronic pain found that tai chi produced real, measurable improvement in fibromyalgia symptom severity — in one trial, more than a standard aerobic exercise program did.
None of this says movement is a cure, and NCCIH doesn't claim that either.
But it does say something important: your body isn't only where the pain lives. It may also be where the healing starts — through movement your body can actually trust, long before your mind feels ready to.
In my experience, this is what somatic movement actually is. It's not a workout and it's not pushing through.
A sway. A hum. A hand pressed flat against your own chest. Feet planted on the floor while you name five things you can see in the room.
Small, almost embarrassingly small, movements that tell an exhausted nervous system, wordlessly: you are here, and here is safe now.
Your mind checks out of your body for a reason — because staying present in a body that hurts feels unsafe.
That's a nervous system doing exactly what it learned to do to survive.
The Scripture
David wrote about what it feels like to be crushed — not only spiritually, but in the body.
"The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit." (Psalm 34:18, ESV)
Crushed, the way a body feels crushed under years of pain no one else can see.
David didn't say God is near to the people who have it together, whose praying still feels alive, who feel Him easily.
He said God is near to the brokenhearted and the crushed.
My pain might have been the very place He was closest — in the flat, wordless parts, not only the parts that still had language for Him.
The Steps
First, once a day, put both feet flat on the floor and name five things you can see in the room around you. This is called orienting, and it's one of the simplest ways to tell your nervous system where, and that, you actually are.
Second, try two minutes of slow swaying or quiet humming, especially before something that usually makes your body brace like a hard conversation, a doctor's appointment, the school pickup line. I like to hug my arms acoss my body.
It sounds too small to matter but it isn't.
Third, when you pray, try praying with your body included, not just your mind — hand on your chest, or feet on the floor, simply saying, "God, be near to what's crushed in me right now. Not just my thoughts." I like to lay on the floor with open hands.
I'm not asking you to overhaul anything today.
I'm asking you to notice where in your body you feel most "checked out" right now. Where is the place you've quietly stopped living in?
So hit reply and tell me about it. I'd love to sit with you in it, whatever it is.
I read every single reply, and I'd love to sit with you in it, whatever it is.
Noticing with you,
Andrea DuMez, RN, CHN, NBC-HWC
Registered Nurse | Holistic Nutritionist | Integrative Health Coach | Certified Metabolic Balance Coach
P.S. It took a bit for me to feel present in my body again. "Little by little, a little became a lot" and now I am able to stand in worship and hike to places where I feel so close to God.