Part one is here.

My body says to tell my story. Every day, keep talking.

Every day, feel. Feel every shiver and shake. Feel every urge to cry, yell, scream, sob.

Tell someone every time my throat feels like it’s closing in, so it can’t close all the way.

My body begs, please please please do whatever I need to do to get the story out. To get the whole story out. It’s ok for all the pieces of all the stories to leave my body. The stories don’t need protection anymore.

Lean in to those willing to listen and let my body be exactly how it needs to be. Lean in to myself, I have all of the story, I am the gatekeeper. The secret keeper.

My body says it is scared, and I will keep leading it to safety. Over and over and over again until it isn’t scared anymore.

When I am frozen, my wolf pack will wrap me up. I am protected.

When my head and my heart and the rest of my body are three and not one, I can be put back together. It is possible. The fragmented pieces will smooth over, my lungs will sync with my breath and my brain and I will not die from the space of a trauma response.

My body says I will, but I will not because I will keep letting my body talk and letting the words out.

I will not house cell-destroying secrets in this body. I will hold on to my wolf pack, with a full heart, instead.