7 months ago, my body looked very different.

I can see it now, but at the time I genuinely couldn’t.

The people around me could see it before I could. They were worried. I’d become almost unrecognisable to everyone around me, but I was so deep in stress and survival mode that I couldn’t see how much my body had changed.

That’s the weird thing about being surrounded by chaos for so long. You don’t always realise what it’s doing to you while you’re in it. You’re just trying to get through the day, keep going, hold everything together, and act like you’re fine.

But my body knew.

My appetite changed. My digestion was off. The weight dropped quickly. I felt wired, tired, anxious, and not myself at all. And it wasn’t just that I looked different. It affected my health in a really big way.

I was in and out of hospital with heart issues, and even then, I don’t think I fully understood how much stress was impacting my body. I knew something wasn’t right. Obviously I did. But I don’t think I connected the dots properly. I didn’t look at my life and think, “Maybe my body is reacting to the fact I’ve been living in constant stress.” I just kept trying to carry on.

Because when stress becomes your normal, you stop seeing it clearly.

You get used to feeling on edge. You get used to not eating properly. You get used to your body feeling tense. You get used to feeling exhausted but still not being able to properly relax. You get used to your heart racing and your body feeling like it’s constantly trying to keep up with everything around you.

And then one day you look back and think, how the fuck did I not see what was happening?

But I couldn’t see it then. I was too close to it. Too deep in it. Too busy surviving.

I think that’s why it’s so easy to miss the signs when your body is struggling. Especially if you’re used to pushing through. You tell yourself you’re fine because you’re still functioning. You’re still working. Still replying to messages. Still showing up. Still getting through the day.

But functioning is not the same as being well.

And I really learnt that the hard way.

When life got calmer and I wasn’t surrounded by chaos anymore, things started to shift. I was eating more. Sleeping better. Laughing more. Actually enjoying life again. And my body came back quicker than I expected.

That part shocked me a bit, because I hadn’t realised just how much my body had been responding to the environment I was in. I hadn’t realised how quickly it could start to rebuild once I wasn’t constantly stressed, anxious, and bracing for the next thing.

It made me realise my body wasn’t failing me. It was reacting to what I was living through.

It was trying to cope.

I think I have a lot more respect for my body now. I don’t want to ignore it until it has no choice but to scream at me. I don’t want to treat stress like it’s just something you push through, because it’s not. It can affect everything. Your appetite, your sleep, your digestion, your heart, your energy, your personality, your confidence, your whole sense of self.

And sometimes you only realise how much you were carrying once you’re finally out of it.

7 months ago, I looked completely different. I was unrecognisable to people around me, and somehow I still couldn’t fully see it.

Now I can.

And I’m not angry at myself for that. I was doing the best I could at the time. But I am paying attention now, because I don’t want to abandon myself like that again.

My body deserves peace.

And so do I.