"I'm fine," she said. Her stomach, for three years, had been saying otherwise.
There are conversations we decide not to have. With a parent. A partner. Ourselves. We file them away and consider the matter closed.
The body reopens the file.
What I've noticed again and again: the body often finishes conversations the mind never started. The unexpressed doesn't evaporate. It relocates — to a gut, a jaw, a lower back, a skin that flares before family gatherings.
This isn't mysticism. Emotion is physiology. Anger is chemistry and muscle tone. Swallowed, it doesn't disappear — it simply stays chemical and muscular.
Think of emotions as guests. Acknowledged, they visit and leave. Ignored, they move in and start rearranging the furniture.
Sometimes it's grief that never got its ceremony. Sometimes anger that wasn't allowed. Sometimes fear dressed up as busyness. Different guests, same occupied house.
Which conversation is your body currently holding for you?
Write one unsent sentence — the true one — to whoever it belongs to. Don't send it. Just let it exist outside your body for once.
Persistent physical symptoms always deserve medical investigation first. The body speaks many languages; rule out the physical ones properly.