How to Feel Better Within Weeks

Many of us think of trauma as something purely emotional. But hidden trauma often lives in the body — in our muscles, breath, and nervous system. This article explores how somatic healing reveals collapse patterns that keep us stuck, and how practices like embodiment and nervous system healing can help us feel better within weeks.

What My Inner Thighs Taught Me About Hidden Trauma

For so many women, they learned a brutal lesson. Namely that anything other than enduring isn’t even an option.

We’re told we have to hold it together.

If we fall apart, there’s no safety net and people will leave.

We learn early that being “too emotional” makes us unworthy of love or attention. 

In my family, I sided with the parent who seemed stronger. The one who stayed composed. The one who didn’t lose control.

I didn’t want to be like the parent who screamed or had poor coping skills; who was dismissed as weak or, at times, unhinged.

So I trained myself to override almost every cue my body ever gave me. I saw it as discipline. 

It wasn’t until I was in so much pain — pain that I couldn’t ignore, I “listened” to my body. Yes, I’m ashamed to say that my body had to scream at me before I would listen.

For most of my life, I believed I couldn’t be “weak”. That wasn’t part of my vocabulary. Instead, I bypassed. I escaped. I over-functioned. I kept moving when things got hard. Emotional or physical collapse was definitely a weakness, and weakness was not allowed if you wanted to succeed in life.

Unbeknownst to me, my body was telling a different story, because the body has its own contracts, and constant endurance has its cost.

The grip in my inner thighs. The dull, but near constant ache in my diaphragm. The subtle clench at my tailbone—especially when I tried to sleep. Even the fallen arches in my feet. 

Each one was quietly repeating the same truth: I was routinely collapsing as a survival strategy, just not in ways the outside world could see.

“Avoidance was the mask. Collapse was the truth.”

On the surface, I looked like someone who avoided conflict or stayed in control. Inside, my muscles were holding a survival contract: “If I shrink just enough, maybe I won’t get hurt.”

That’s the thing about trauma patterns. They don’t always show up in dramatic gestures. Sometimes they’re hidden in the body’s quietest choices — what contracts, what gives way, what holds tension long after the danger is gone.

The Body Doesn’t Lie

The mind will argue.

The mind will rationalize.

The mind will say: You’re fine. You’re strong. You’re in control.

But the body doesn’t lie.

For me, my inner thighs carried the weight of never claiming directly what I wanted. I was terrified to tell people I liked them, terrified to say what I desired. So instead of risk, I hid. 

I told myself I was protecting my heart — but my body was taking in a very different message: collapse here, don’t claim, stay soft so you won’t get hurt.

My waistline carried the ambivalence of overthinking, procrastination, and a deep lack of self-trust. Because I had learned to avoid direct conflict, I bent myself into knots — managing, predicting, trying to control outcomes instead of standing firmly in choice.

And when exercise alone didn’t change these places, I was furious. I had done everything right. I overhauled my diet. I took all the classes, even ones designed to push me past my limits. And yet, my body still didn’t change.

Now I see why: it wasn’t laziness. It wasn’t weakness. My body was in protective mode.

The Class That Exposed Me

I’ll never forget taking Taryn Toomey’s The Class. We were holding extended plank pose, moving into burpees. And I was terrified of literally collapsing onto my face.

The fear was so strong I’d always quit the pose sooner than I wanted to — and then I would blame myself, shame myself, tell myself I was weak. How am I going to get cut arms or a flat stomach if I can’t hold plank for longer than 10 seconds? It became a never-ending cycle of doing the “right” things and still feeling wrong inside my own body.

In essence, I was doing everything you’re not supposed to do in The Class. But I didn’t know how else to show up.

What I didn’t understand then was that my muscles weren’t just about strength. They were carrying survival contracts.

Now, with somatic awareness, those same movements feel completely different. When I’m in plank, when I’m pressing through a burpee, I can feel the inner thighs and waistline actually working, reorganizing. Not because I’m forcing them, but because I’ve finally understood the messages they were holding.

Everything feels different now — because I’ve stopped blaming myself, and started listening.

Here’s How That Plays Out

Emotionally:

• You didn’t allow yourself to visibly collapse (because it wasn’t safe or acceptable in your world).

• So you kept moving, bypassing, or staying “functional.”

Somatically:

• Inner thighs hold onto trauma because → “I won’t hold my claim to anything I really want or desire.”

• Coccyx & pelvic floor constantly grip → “I’ll contain myself so no one sees how scared I am.”

• Diaphragm loses elasticity → shallow breath, vitality held down so I don’t build endurance or lung capacity.

• Arches fall → ground disappears under you, and cardio becomes more challenging.

So your behavior looked like avoidance or bypass to the analyzing mind.

But your body was already holding collapse.

And that means, I was trying to “solve” for the wrong issue for decades.

Collapse Isn’t Always Visible

That’s the thing about a somatic collapse. It doesn’t always look like crumpling on the floor. Sometimes it’s hidden inside a body that appears to be coping, performing, or even excelling.

On the outside, my pattern looked like avoidance. I bypassed conflict. I kept moving. I stayed functional.

But on the inside, collapse was already happening. It was my learned behavior. It was my habit. My body was holding it in my thighs, my waistline, my breath. (As well as my jaw, neck and shoulders).

Avoidance was the mask. Collapse was the truth. 

To heal these tendencies, you must treat them differently. They require different solutions.

A Somatic Reframe

When I finally saw this, it changed everything.

Collapse wasn’t failure. It wasn’t weakness. It was my body’s wisdom, trying to keep me safe.

And once I stopped shaming it, I could begin renegotiating the contract. That requires some shadow and inner child work too.

Now, instead of collapsing inward, I press my thighs together with a yoga block or ball and say, “I get to want.”

Instead of tightening and gripping at my waist, I breathe into my belly and say, “I trust myself.” I also do specific fascia exercises daily to help “wake up” this part of my body that was in perpetual freeze.

Instead of quitting the pose out of fear, I stay just a little longer and remind myself: “I’m safe to hold my ground.”

That’s when exercise began to land differently. My body wasn’t resisting me anymore. It was finally with me.

The Takeaway

Collapse isn’t always obvious. Sometimes it hides behind avoidance, over-functioning, or perfectionism.

But the body remembers. The body carries the contracts. And the body tells the truth.

If your muscles won’t “tone” no matter what you do… if your body feels stuck even when your mind is determined… it might not be because you’re doing it wrong.

It might be because your body is still protecting you.

And when you learn to listen — when you stop fighting and start partnering — everything changes.

If you’d like to go deeper and change these patterns in yourself, let’s chat.