There is a quiet pressure in healing spaces to move on. To forgive.
To release.
To let go. But trauma doesn’t release on command. Pain doesn’t dissolve just because we understand it. And healing is not a performance where progress is measured by how calm we appear when remembering what hurt us. Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is admit:
“I haven’t let this go yet.”
Many people believe they’ve healed because they can talk about the past without crying. But the body holds a deeper truth than the mind. You may notice it when:
These are not failures of healing.
They are communications. Trauma-informed healing invites us to listen instead of judge. To recognize that the parts of us still holding pain are not resisting growth—they are protecting us based on what they learned when safety was not guaranteed.
Spiritual language can sometimes become another way we abandon ourselves. Phrases like:
can unintentionally invalidate lived pain—especially when wounds were formed in moments where there was no choice, no voice, and no protection. True spiritual healing does not demand release before safety exists.
It does not rush forgiveness.
It does not shame the soul for remembering. A trauma-informed spiritual path understands that healing happens in layers, not leaps.
Before anything can be released, it must first be acknowledged—fully, gently, honestly. Acknowledgment sounds like:
This is not dwelling.
This is witnessing. In many spiritual traditions, pain is not something to remove—it is something to sit beside until it no longer needs to shout.
If your body reacts even though your mind understands, it does not mean you’re blocked or unhealed. It means your nervous system learned safety through experience, not affirmation. Release happens when:
This is why healing can feel slow.
And why pushing yourself to “be over it” often creates more fragmentation. Gentleness is not stagnation.
It is regulation.
Letting go does not mean:
It means the memory no longer controls your present.
It means the pain is held in awareness, not avoidance.
It means you can stay with yourself when old feelings arise. Release comes naturally when something no longer needs to protect you.
Try this softly—no force, no fixing: Place one hand on your chest.
One on your belly. Breathe slowly and say (out loud or inwardly):
“I acknowledge the part of me that is still holding pain.”
“You make sense.”
“You don’t have to disappear for me to love you.”
Notice what shifts—not emotionally, but physically.
Even a 2% softening counts.
Healing is not about becoming someone who was never hurt. It is about becoming someone who no longer abandons themselves because of it. If you haven’t let it go yet, it does not mean you’re behind.
It means something sacred is still asking to be seen. And when it is ready—
release will not feel like loss. It will feel like exhale.