For the ones who are awakening and remembering

No one tells us this when we grow up.

At some point, many adults stop feeling at home in their bodies.

There is an inner restlessness, a whisper of a voice saying “this is not right, i’m not where i’m supposed to be, this isn’t the life i’m meant to lead.”

Externally, nothing bad might even be happening.

Life might even look fine from the outside. But INSIDE man, INSIDE…. there is a quiet tension. A tightening in the chest and the stomach. A feeling of always being “on,” even when there is nowhere to go, nothing to defend ourselves from.

Might I dare say – this slimy situation we’re observing ourselves in didn’t happen overnight. It’s been happening for a while now, maybe even years. The only difference is that we’re now made AWARE of it.

The questions to focus on now are – HOW AND WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?

As children, we observed and learned fast. We had to. To know how to survive in this world and even thrive in this life. Our bodies learned these lessons before our minds could explain them. They learned when to stay alert, when to hold their breath, when to brace. Those habits were useful once to protect us.

So the body did what bodies always do when they’re left to make sense of the world on their own. It adapted, quietly and efficiently, learning how to stay alert, how to brace, how to prepare for what might come next. These patterns were useful once. They helped us move through childhood, through uncertainty, through situations where being ready mattered.

The problem is that no one ever told us these patterns don’t simply dissolve when life becomes safer or more stable. The body doesn’t update itself just because the mind has moved on. So we grow up, we build lives, we reach milestones, and yet something inside continues to feel unsettled, like it hasn’t received the same message that everything is now okay.

And this is where language fails us a little. Because when we try to describe this feeling, there isn’t a clean word for it. It’s not exactly anxiety, not quite sadness, not dissatisfaction either. It’s more like a low-grade restlessness that lives in the background, a sense of being slightly off-center in your own life, as if you’re always preparing for something that never fully arrives.

So what are we actually experiencing when there isn’t a name for it?

Maybe it’s the body holding onto old instructions in a new environment. Maybe it’s the residue of years spent adapting, adjusting, staying ready. Maybe it’s the nervous system asking for something slower, something truer, something it hasn’t been given yet.

And instead of rushing to label it or fix it, perhaps the first step is simply to notice it without judgment. To recognise that this unnamed restlessness isn’t a personal failure, but a signal. Not that something is wrong, but that something inside us is waiting to feel safe enough to fully arrive.