The part of me that still freezes
These last few weeks, my men’s group has been holding incredible space for me to come into contact with parts of myself that I’ve exiled and called wrong.
Lately, I’ve been noticing how sensitive I can become to my husband’s emotions. In certain moments, especially when I perceive tension or conflict, my system does not move toward clarity or connection. It moves toward shutdown. I get quiet. I freeze. I go away a little.
This reaction is not new.
What I’ve been seeing more clearly is that there is a younger part of me that never learned how to regulate around perceived conflict. So now, decades later, when something in Jerry’s tone or energy feels sharp to my body, that younger part starts to emerge. My body gets scared. My system contracts. I lose access to words, to contact, to choice.
From the outside, that can look like I don’t care or that I’ve checked out.
But inside, something very different is happening.
I’ve been sitting with this a lot lately. I’ve been listening to It Didn’t Start With You by Mark Wolynn and reflecting on the possibility that not all of this belongs only to me. Yes, some of this absolutely lives in my own upbringing and lived experience. But I also find myself thinking about my lineage. I think about my great-grandparents, my grandparents, my parents, and the cultural and political conditions they lived through in the Philippines.
I think about occupation, war, migration, survival, and what happens to a body over generations when safety is not guaranteed.
And as I’ve been reflecting on that, I’ve noticed a little more compassion entering the room.
Maybe some of what I’ve called my flaw is actually a protective pattern.
Maybe some of what I’ve called over-sensitivity is a nervous system that learned to track for danger very early.
Maybe shutdown is not absence. Maybe it is protection.
I share this not because I have some neat conclusion, but because I know I’m not the only one. A lot of men don’t get louder when something feels hard. A lot of men disappear. We go numb. We shut down. We get distant. We lose contact with ourselves right when we most need support.
And when that happens, it can be easy to make ourselves wrong.
But there may be nothing wrong with you.
There may just be a part of your body doing exactly what it learned to do to help you survive. Or how it helped your grandparents survive.
This is one of the reasons I care so deeply about men having spaces where they can slow down, notice what’s happening inside of them, and stay connected long enough for something new to emerge. My men’s group has been that for me lately. It has been a place where I can show up honestly, feel what is there, and let other men be with me in it.
I want every man to have access to that.
I also know not every man is in a men’s group right now.
That is part of why I created THE PRACTICE.
THE PRACTICE is a donation-based somatic workshop for men. It’s a space to slow down, track what’s happening in your body, learn simple nervous system tools, and be in honest space with other men. There’s no pressure to perform. No pressure to share more than you want to. You get to come as you are.
The next one is this Friday, April 24.
Head to my THE PRACTICE Eventbrite page to see upcoming sessions.
If something in your body is already leaning toward this, you can register with the link below.
And if you’re curious but not sure whether it’s for you, just reply to this email. I’m happy to connect.
Other ways you can work with me:
