There are pains that whisper.

And there are pains that rise like ancient spirits,

uncoiling from the bones.

Today, as my body stretched into forgotten shapes,

something old awakened.

A trembling.

A heat.

A truth I had buried under years of being “good,”

being “kind,”

being anything but myself.

It was not muscle pain.

It was the echo of every silence I swallowed.

Every smile I faked.

Every unworthy soul I allowed too close to my light.

Self-betrayal has a sound.

And today, my body finally let me hear it.

It throbbed through my joints

like a drum from another realm.

It rose in my chest

like a storm breaking its cage.

It burned in my gut

as if every lie I told myself

wanted to escape at once.

This is the deepest pain of all —

the pain of turning away from your own soul.

And the body remembers.

It remembers every time you stayed where you did not belong.

It remembers every time you dimmed your fire

to soothe someone else’s shadows.

It remembers the weight of being a child

asked to carry emotions that were not hers.

The body does not forget.

It only waits.

Until the truth becomes too heavy to hold in silence.

Today, mine burst open.

And in that eruption,

I felt something holy —

a presence, a clarity, a fierce tenderness

as if God Himself whispered:

“You cannot love yourself in lies.”

So this is my vow, whispered into the invisible:

I will not sit where my spirit shrinks.

I will not twist myself to be palatable.

I will not quiet the truth living in my blood.

I will not carry anyone’s darkness at the cost of my own light.

Never again will I lie to myself.

For the soul punishes dishonesty

not with guilt,

but with pain that echoes through every corner of the body

until you return to your truth.

And when you do —

when a woman finally tells herself the truth —

the entire universe shifts around her.

The path clears.

The light returns.

The heart rises.

And the world she was born to walk

opens beneath her feet.