You Can See It in the Face: Healing the Body by Releasing the Past

For years, I thought the deep lines on my forehead were just aging. That the tension in my neck and
shoulders was just bad posture or regular stress. I blamed life, genetics, long days. But the truth is,
my body wasn’t just tired — it was trying to tell me something.

I recently took a photo of myself in a green top, looking directly into the camera, intentionally
raising my eyebrows. It wasn’t about capturing a relaxed face — it was about showing the change.
The deep line that used to live across my forehead wasn’t as prominent. That alone was proof: my
body wasn’t holding the same trauma. I could still feel the difference — a face less braced, a nervous
system no longer locked in survival.

Years before that, I took a series of photos lying on the floor in soft rainbow light. At the time,
I didn’t fully understand why I was taking them. I just knew I needed to. My body still held a lot of survival.
My eyes weren’t darting, but they weren’t calm either. The forehead line was deep, visible in every image.
My body looked strong, even open — but my face said otherwise. You could see the holding, the quiet
bracing, the emotional lock that was just starting to crack open.

Even further back, in 2011, I wore one of my favorite outfits — a black strappy top — during the
height of my bodybuilding era. I looked sculpted and secure. But I was deeply disconnected.
That version of me had no idea what embodiment even meant. She knew how to flex, pose, and
perform strength, but not how to feel safe in it.

Now, I wear that same outfit in a body that breathes. A body that squishes. A face that softens.
I don’t clench when I sleep. I don’t brace before I speak. I press into my stomach and feel organs, not armor.
My neck moves without guarding. My diaphragm expands.

This is what healing actually looks like. Not just in the muscles or the movements — but in the face. In the eyes.
In the micro-expressions we don’t even know we’re carrying until they’re gone.

If you’ve ever wondered where you are in your healing, look at your own face. Not with judgment.
With curiosity. Do you look guarded? Exhausted? Like you’re holding your breath even in stillness?
Or can you see softness — even if it’s just beginning?

Take the photo. Even if you’re not ready to show anyone. One day, you’ll look back and realize it wasn’t
​just a snapshot. It was a timestamp.

A before.
​
A becoming.

End.