Some conversations don’t end when the recording stops.
They linger.They echo.They rearrange something inside you.
This conversation with Angela Jean did that for me.
I’ve spent years exploring grief—my own, and the grief of others. I’ve talked with countless people about loss, trauma, and what it means to keep living when life no longer makes sense. And yet, this episode slowed me down in a different way. It didn’t just speak to the mind. It spoke to the body.
Angela didn’t offer a neat framework or a motivational soundbite. She offered something deeper, more honest, and frankly more challenging:
Healing doesn’t start with your thoughts.It starts with your nervous system.
And once you see that, it’s hard to unsee.
When Healing Doesn’t Work the Way We’re Told It Should
Many of us come to healing the same way.
We read the books.We repeat the affirmations.We try to “think differently.”
And when that doesn’t work, we assume we’re the problem.
But trauma doesn’t live in the rational part of the brain. Grief doesn’t ask for permission before it floods the body. Loss doesn’t wait until the mind is ready to process it.
That’s why so many people feel stuck.
They’re doing everything “right,” but their body is still bracing. Still guarding. Still rehearsing danger.
This is where nervous system healing after trauma becomes essential. Not as a buzzword. Not as another thing to fix. But as a compassionate explanation for why willpower alone doesn’t work.
Angela articulated something I’ve seen again and again in grief work:
The body often remembers long after the mind understands.
Angela Jean’s Story: Survival Before Language
Angela’s life story is not easy to hear.
She experienced severe physical and sexual abuse as a child. She left home at thirteen because it was safer to sleep in bushes than to stay. Survival, not metaphorically but physically, became a daily reality.
Later, she lost her father and her sister to suicide.
That kind of trauma doesn’t just leave emotional scars. It shapes the nervous system. It teaches the body to stay alert, guarded, prepared for impact.
Listening to Angela, I was struck by how clearly she could name this—not from theory, but from lived experience.
Her healing didn’t begin when she finally “thought positive enough.”
It began when she realized her body had been doing exactly what it was trained to do:keep her alive.
That reframe matters.
Once we stop seeing our responses as failures, we can start working with them rather than against them.
“The Body Remembers Before the Mind”
This may be the most important takeaway from the entire conversation.
Trauma happens fast.Grief happens fast.The nervous system reacts before language can catch up.
That’s why you can feel tightness in your chest with no clear thought attached.That’s why anxiety shows up “out of nowhere.”That’s why you can logically know you’re safe—and still feel like you’re not.
For those of us who’ve experienced sudden loss, this makes perfect sense.
Grief arrives like a shockwave. The body absorbs it before the mind can make meaning of it. And long after the funeral is over, the body may still be bracing for another blow.
Understanding this changed the way I think about healing—not just personally, but professionally.
It shifts the question from “What’s wrong with me?”to “What did my body learn, and how can I help it feel safe again?”
Rhythm, Safety, and Why the Body Needs Proof
One of the most fascinating parts of Angela’s work is her emphasis on rhythm.
Rhythm signals safety.
We see this everywhere in nature. In breathing. In heartbeats. In music. In walking. In rocking a baby to sleep.
Angela discovered that rhythmic thought patterns—combined with gentle movement—can interrupt the nervous system’s survival loops. Not by force. But by reassurance.
Safety isn’t an idea.It’s a sensation.
And for many trauma survivors, the body doesn’t believe words alone. It needs proof.
This reframed something important for me. I’ve often encouraged mindfulness, meditation, and reflection. Those tools matter. But they don’t always meet people where they are.
Sometimes the body needs to feel soothed before the mind can settle.
Trauma Imprints: When Love and Pain Get Entangled
One of the most heartbreaking moments in the conversation was when Angela described realizing that love had been imprinted as pain.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
As a child, she learned—at a cellular level—that closeness came with danger. That love hurt. That safety was conditional.
This isn’t uncommon. I’ve seen it repeatedly in grief and trauma work.
People don’t consciously choose harmful relationships.They follow familiar patterns that feel normal to their nervous system.
Angela’s insight was simple and profound:
If you don’t interrupt the imprint, you’ll keep rehearsing it.
That applies not only to relationships, but to how we treat ourselves. How we overextend. How we self-abandon. How we tolerate what hurts because it feels known.
Healing begins when we catch the pattern in the body, not just in hindsight.
Anger, Depression, and Listening Instead of Suppressing
I appreciated Angela’s clarity around anger and depression—two emotions that often show up in grief.
Anger is expansive.Depression is collapsing.
They are different energies. And they need different responses.
We’re often told to calm anger and push through sadness. But Angela suggests something more nuanced: meet the energy where it is.
Sometimes anger needs movement.Sometimes depression needs expansion.Sometimes the body needs permission to release instead of being managed.
This aligns deeply with what I’ve seen in grief. Suppressed emotions don’t disappear. They wait.
Listening doesn’t mean indulging every impulse. It means respecting the intelligence of the body.
“You Are Who You Train to Be”
This line landed hard for me.
Because it’s honest.
We are always training something—whether we mean to or not. Our nervous system rehearses what it knows. Our thoughts follow familiar grooves. Our reactions become habits.
Healing, then, isn’t a single breakthrough.It’s a practice.
Angela talks about micro-resets. Small, consistent interruptions. Catching the moment of tightening. Pausing before collapse. Choosing safety again and again.
This resonates deeply with my own journey.
Grief doesn’t end.But our relationship with it can change.
And that change happens through repetition, not revelation.
From Personal Healing to Collective Healing
One of the things I admire most about Angela is her sense of responsibility.
Not obligation—but stewardship.
She believes that those who heal carry something forward for others. That healing isn’t just personal—it’s relational.
I believe this too.
Grief 2 Growth exists because I know pain doesn’t have to be wasted. When we tend to our own nervous systems, we show up differently. We listen better. We react less. We offer steadier presence.
And in a world that feels increasingly dysregulated, that matters.
An Invitation, Not a Conclusion
If you’re reading this and recognizing yourself—your body, your patterns, your exhaustion—I want you to hear this clearly:
You’re not broken.You’re not failing at healing.Your nervous system may simply be doing what it learned to do.
And that can change.
Not overnight.Not perfectly.But gently. Repeatedly. Compassionately.
A reflection for you:
Where might your body still be rehearsing survival—and what would safety feel like instead?
Continue the Conversation
If this resonated with you, I invite you to listen to the full episode with Angela Jean. Her voice, her presence, and her clarity offer something that words alone can’t capture.
And if you want to go deeper, subscribe.
I’d love to hear:
* What stood out to you
* Where you feel this in your body
* What questions this stirred up
Comment. Share. Join the chat. Subscribe.
Healing doesn’t happen alone—and none of us were meant to carry this by ourselves.
