My Body Felt More Honest Than My Mouth

Dear Delyara, I told people I was fine today, but my body told a different story. My shoulders were tight. My stomach felt wrong. I kept clenching my jaw without noticing until it hurt. I was short with people I actually like. Even my breathing felt shallow, like I was living too close to the surface of myself. It’s strange how often my body tells the truth before I am willing to. I think part of me still believes I need a proper reason to be struggling. Something visible, explainable, socially acceptable. But the body does not always wait for the right narrative. It just reacts. It stores. It signals. It complains. Sometimes I wonder how different my life would be if I listened earlier instead of waiting until my body has to become undeniable. Tonight I am trying to do the smaller thing: name it before it becomes a crisis. I am not fine. Not ruined. Not broken. Just not fine. That should be simple enough to say. And somehow it never is.