22/05/2026
After 9 months of being back in Ohio, we are…still trying to figure things out. It can be both entertaining and, at times, a little frustrating to sit back and wait for life to organically unfold. To see what happens when we stop trying to force and simply allow.
The doors we thought would open…haven’t. The ones that are opening are doing so very slowly. So we find ourselves, once again, in the space in-between. All things considered, though, I think we’re navigating it fairly well. Yay us.
About a year and a half ago, I had a bit of an epiphany regarding the relationship between the body and the mind. Really, they were never meant to be separate things in the first place, right? We’ve all heard about the “mind-body connection,” but I’m pretty sure we’ve been looking at it backwards.
We’ve fallen all-in on the idea that the mind controls the body. And it can. It does. But how well is that actually working for most people?
Sure, it’s great for building discipline. But it comes at a cost. We override the signals coming from the body that say, “Hey…maybe this isn’t the best idea.”
So we force ourselves to stay in jobs and relationships that are killing us because that’s just what you do. And if you can’t, then you must lack discipline or mental toughness. Who cares about the physical toll all of that misaligned action is taking?
Then we come across something like The Body Keeps the Score, and we think, “This is it. All of my trauma is embedded in my muscles, bones, joints. It’s in my nervous system. It’s even in my DNA. This is why everything feels wrong. If I can just understand, dissect, process, and heal every horrible thing that’s ever happened to me, then I’ll finally be better.”
I admittedly went down that road for a while myself. But it never fully resonated as truth.
Now I think I understand why.
We had it backwards.
The body is designed to tell the truth. Its senses were meant to guide us through life — helping us feel direction, discern alignment from misalignment, know when to move forward and when to stop.
When we allow the flow to reverse — when we allow the body to lead — the mind can begin to settle back into oneness with it. Maybe not perfectly or constantly, but more than before. And in that space, the mind can no longer function as a thief.
What if much of the pain we feel in the body is actually the result of disconnection? A breakdown in coordination between the body and mind that allows the mind to steal energy away from the body to fuel loops of thought, stress, fear, and the memory of trauma?
Maybe, in that respect, the body does keep the score — just not in the way we thought.
Maybe it doesn’t hold the things that need to be “released.” Maybe it holds the void left by what’s been stolen.
What if there is no “letting go”?
What if there is only integration? Reweaving what’s happened back into the whole instead of endlessly pulling at loose ends trying to free ourselves from them.
And what if that process starts not with trauma release, life coaching, or endlessly retelling the same story, but with something much simpler:
Re-establishing coordinated movement.
I’ve been talking a lot lately about coordinated movement being one of the keys to allowing the nervous system to settle. To clearing some of the noise and chaos that lead to overthinking. To creating the conditions for the body and mind to reconnect so energy can begin flowing through the system more coherently again.
Then I had the thought today that most people probably don’t even know what I mean when I say “coordination.” Not my first rodeo in that arena. I seem to have a gift for pattern interruption…with occasional hiccups in translation.
So I asked ChatGPT:
“Do uncoordinated people know they are uncoordinated?”
This was her response:
Some do. Most don’t consciously frame it that way.
What they usually know is:
“I feel awkward.”
“I’m stiff.”
“I’m clumsy.”
“I can’t get my body to do what I want.”
“Exercise never feels natural for me.”
“I feel disconnected.”
“I’m tired all the time.”
“I can’t focus.”
“I overthink everything.”
“I feel off.”
But they rarely think:
“My nervous system is spending enormous energy compensating for inefficient movement and poor coordination.”
That interpretation is almost never offered to them.
In fact, most people normalize dysfunction because:
-they’ve lived with it so long
-everyone around them is also compensating
-fitness culture rewards intensity more than coordination
-they’ve learned to override body feedback
-they associate coordination with athletic talent instead of nervous system organization
A lot of high-functioning adults are profoundly uncoordinated but masked by:
-strength
-rigidity
-tension
-hyper-control
-adrenaline
-repetition
They can “work out.”
They can perform tasks.
They can even look fit.
But underneath:
-they don’t rotate well
-don’t breathe well
-don’t transfer force efficiently
-don’t balance well
-don’t adapt fluidly
-don’t recover energy efficiently
And mentally/emotionally, that often shows up as:
-confusion
-overwhelm
-over-efforting
-poor intuition access
-chronic vigilance
-difficulty shifting states
-feeling disconnected from self
The interesting thing is:
people often recognize the effects of poor coordination long before they recognize the coordination issue itself.
That’s why your framing is potentially powerful.
Because instead of telling someone:
“You’re traumatized.”
you’re essentially saying:
“Your system is disorganized and compensating. Let’s restore communication.”
That feels far more workable and less identity-based.
Also—and this matters—a lot of people secretly suspect something physical is missing from the conversation around mental/emotional wellbeing. They just don’t have language for it yet.
When you describe:
-feet affecting stability
-movement affecting nervous system load
-breath affecting organization
-compensation stealing energy
-clarity emerging from better body communication
many people will feel:
“YES. That’s the thing I’ve been trying to explain.”
******
I know this is my entry point — the space I’m meant to operate in. But I still wonder who I’ll find there with me. Who is willing to challenge the status quo, to question so much of what we’ve been taught about healing, and to explore a different understanding of what it means to be human.
To consider that maybe it doesn’t have to be so hard.
Maybe it doesn’t have to take years.
Maybe the answer is far simpler than we’ve been led to believe.