That Old Urge to Prove Your Pain? It’s Not Failure—It’s Protection

Jul 25

Written By Ingram’s Path | Subconscious Healing

Even after all the healing, your nervous system might still ask for something it never got.

This essay is for those of you who’ve reparented yourself, reframed beliefs, and done the work.

Now you’re asking: why do I still long to explain my pain to people who never showed up or cared in the first place?

Let’s explore what that impulse really means — and how honoring it is part of healing, not a step backward.

I had done the work.

Not only had I gone to therapy, but I trained to become a therapist.

I reparented myself.

I reframed my beliefs.

I regulated my nervous system.

I excavated my core wounds.

I found the subconscious programs.

I even found the hidden benefits of the old stories I carried as sacred truths.

I did everything I was taught to do.

And yet — there are still moments when I revert to familiar patterns.

Not out of failure, but out of something older. Something deeper than logic, older than language.

Through an exhaustive practice, I began to understand, intimately, that my silences had not protected me from hurting.

And your silences won’t protect you either.

Let me show you what I mean.

I picture a moment — vivid in my mind’s eye.

I run into someone whose friendship I once ached for. You know the one I’m talking about.

Someone who offered hollow promises and rarely showed up, but when they did, it was magical.

In the fantasy, they see me.

They light up. Want to talk. Want to collaborate. I’m finally enough.

And my first instinct?

I want to say everything I never got to say — everything I never dared to say. I want to make up for being small and protective of my heart. I want to tell them—

You made me feel small.

You just seemed to tolerate me — but didn’t care for me, not really.

You didn’t show up when I wanted and needed you to.

I want them to know what it cost me—that their casual indifference landed like a breadcrumb tossed to someone starving for connection.

Their words and absence mattered. Even if I didn’t flinch, even if I smiled, it left a mark.

I want them to hear the truth. I want them to hear it, really hear it. Feel it.

But I also know — from experience and training — that saying it now would likely only create more pain.

They’d get defensive, and I’d walk away feeling petty or uncentered.

Because creating conflict based solely on the residue of the past isn’t the same as healing it. It’s just rehearsing another rupture. It just keeps the wound festering.

So what’s going on? Even though I know what to do, why doesn’t my mind take me there? Here’s what no one talks about.

That first reflex to explain, to confront, to unload the ache — that’s not a failure.

That’s a protective instinct, and it’s deeply human.

It’s actually trying to do something concrete: It’s trying to restore emotional symmetry where none existed before.

If I can finally say what I never got to say, maybe the ache will stop echoing inside me, and the pressure valve will finally release, and I can relax.

And that impulse? It’s not about the person I’m having the fantasy conversation with anymore.

It’s about my body trying to resolve an old injury. It’s the mind saying, maybe now I’ll be heard. Maybe now I’ll be seen.

So, it’s a loop. A reflex of the mind. A glitch from a past version of me. A strategy that gave me a role to play and a script to read.

A patterned protection that once kept me safe.

It’s what Richard Bandler, the mastermind behind NLP, might call a loop with a lock — a subconscious pattern that auto-fires when someone from the past presses play.

It’s not brokenness.

It’s just a habit that’s been practiced to death and feels familiar.

It’s a file that used to serve a purpose. There was a benefit to this pattern of protection. And here’s what it says about me:

I am fiercely loyal to my own truth, and I am also still integrating emotional and nervous system know-how to feel more regulated. I’ve changed, but my nervous system hasn’t fully caught up, but it will.

There’s a younger part of me that still wants acknowledgment that I was hurt.

And none of that makes the adult me wrong.

Rationally speaking, I know that I don’t owe this person who I feel hurt me a story. I owe myself authorship of healing.

So this is what healing looks like.

It’s messy. I'm not asking for perfection or the erasure of instinct. Merely the power to pause. To witness how far I’ve come without judgment..

To choose a new response. And after I walk myself off the ledge, I find a kinder response — one that shows me how far I’ve come.

The first reflex isn’t the final word in a healing journey.

It’s just the first draft.

And I get to keep rewriting and recoding my mind. That’s the most beautiful part of this story. Our minds are malleable. I can keep evolving, and my beautiful, brilliant brain will take me there.

Ingram’s Path | Subconscious Healing

I’m a certified hypnotherapist, holistic coach, and mentor. I guide people back to the deeper part of themselves—the subconscious—so they can live with more clarity, self-trust, and emotional freedom.

To that end, I work with people who are deeply caring and capable—but often exhausted from holding it all together. My clients are thoughtful leaders, creatives, and people who serve others and have spent years being everything for everyone else. They’ve been praised for their strength, but inside, they’re craving something more real: peace, purpose, and power that doesn’t drain them.

And yet, we rarely discuss it in leadership or workspaces, and that’s hurting our ability to connect with others. Moreover, we’ve lost the ability to connect with ourselves.

Most people don’t realize that the subconscious is running the show—shaping their choices, blocking their visibility, and reinforcing beliefs that were never truly theirs. My work is about decoding those patterns and gently rewiring the operating system beneath the surface.

Clients often tell me they’ve learned more about their emotional blocks in one session with me than in years of traditional talk therapy. That’s not because I have the answers—it’s because the subconscious already does. I simply help people see, listen or feel it.

I’ve trained in trauma recovery, nervous system regulation, and advanced mindset tools. I’ve supported clients across the world for the past four years. But more than any credential, I’ve lived this work. I know what it’s like to survive off bad programming—and what it feels like to finally stop performing and start integrating.

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What I Believe

Healing is learning not to fix or perform, but to return to the self you were before the world handed you a script and cast you in a role.

Maybe you were the brilliant one. The helpful one.

Or maybe you learned to rebel—or to stay in crisis—because that’s when love, safety, or attention showed up.

I also believe:

• Sensitivity is wisdom.

• Symptoms are messengers.

• The nervous system isn’t broken—it’s loyal.

• Grief holds intelligence.

• Truth doesn’t shout—it steadies.

• Change begins in the body—before you can name it, post about it, or lead from it.

You’re not asking for too much. You’ve simply outgrown the story you were given.

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In a world that rewards performance, being comfortable in your own skin is a radical act.

📍 Serving Clients Worldwide via Zoom

https://www.ingramspath.com