When Fear Isn’t of Others, but of Myself

Today, in my healing journey, I stumbled upon an unexpected discovery.

Since beginning somatic work and inner enquiry, I’ve noticed a recurring experience.

Each time I enter the subconscious or drop into my body, a sudden tightness arises.

My heart feels constricted, as if strangled, and an overwhelming sensation of needing to cry comes but the tears remain trapped. It feels like that moment when you’re ashamed to cry, trying to hold it back.

The difference now is that I allow myself to stay curious, to sit with it. Yet still, it doesn’t release.

During today’s practice group session, this familiar feeling came again, but stronger, so much stronger.

As my facilitator buddy guided me, I asked inwardly: Have I felt this before? Why is the protector part shielding me? The more I leaned into the sensation, the more I realised:

If I let that cry out, it would be like opening floodgates that would never close.

A scream felt like it was building inside me, yet I was trapped behind a glass wall, unable to break free.

Why? For what reason?

I couldn’t distinguish whether the tightness came from my physical heart or from emotions buried within. All I knew was that it felt collective, immovable.

“It was as if its very presence was holding me together, providing the safety and support I lacked. Fear and vulnerability sat together in the same space.”

We ended the session there. What I carried away was not resolution, but something more important:

Awareness. The capacity to allow rather than to fix, to breathe rather than to force.

Then something shifted.

As we shared our learnings, one student said aloud:

“ Inner child is scared of my adult self.”

Her words bypassed my mind. They landed directly in my body. And in that instant, the release came. Tears finally, involuntary, unstoppable. Tears that had been waiting so long to be witnessed.

Her experience gave language to something I couldn’t see or imagine for myself. With aphantasia, I often can’t form inner pictures or visualise concepts, but my body knew.

My body recognised the truth hidden inside me: the fear and vulnerability of facing myself.

I allowed the tears. Welcomed them. And in the allowing,

I felt the power of release rather than resistance.

What followed was sadness, a heaviness like grief.

But grief for what?

Why would I fear myself? Out of everything I have lived through abandonment, abuse, hurt, trauma, why would my deepest fear be directed at myself, not others?

That is something for me to continue to sit with. There are many possible reasons, but this isn’t for the mind alone to solve.

When left only to thought, truth becomes clouded by stories, beliefs, and conditioning. The body, however, carries its own wisdom. It knows what is hidden, and it knows when it is time to release.

Discernment and time will bring more understanding. For now, I am simply grateful, for the witnessing, the learning, and the growing capacity to stay present.

The thing one fears is oneself. And maybe, that is where the deepest healing begins.

If this reflection speaks to you, I invite you to explore your own inner child with us. This work is not about fixing it’s about witnessing. It’s about building capacity, growing, learning, and allowing. In the presence of compassion and curiosity, the body reveals what it’s ready to share.

If you feel called to begin this journey, I offer discovery sessions where we gently explore what your body is holding, at a pace that feels safe for you. Sometimes the deepest healing begins simply with being witnessed.

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