A Practice: Nervous System Regulation

The Work of Becoming

This essay is about becoming. About climbing out of the fire of your own past, learning to stop building your life on the approval of others, and taking responsibility for the little versions of yourself that still live within you. At twenty-seven, I am learning what it means to survive—and what it means to build something that will finally stand. .... If this piece resonates with you, you can read the full essay on Substack. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit sgwells.substack.com [https://sgwells.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

A Practice: Nervous System Regulation

I found this gem tucked away in my voice memos from over a year ago. At the time, I practiced this often. It was imperative for me. I struggled to feel what was happening inside my body. I didn’t know how to bring safety to it. But over time, I grew familiar with the practice. Through repetition, it became a habit—almost like something a gentle parent might have taught me. I’m sharing this with you in the hope that you might take pieces of my journey with you. I praise God, and I honor the hard work I did to learn what safety feels like from the inside. Shout out to my therapist, my dear friends, and to myself—for loving me through the process. XOXO,S.G. Wells This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit sgwells.substack.com [https://sgwells.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

The Energy of the Universe

For a long time, I lived as though the energy of the universe was scarce. As though there was not enough—love, grace, possibility—to go around. But there is.There is abundance.There is gratitude. Follow along and listen as I move through what I am grateful for. The list is long. It is light. And somehow, for the one telling it, it is also heavy. I am grateful to be here. I am grateful for what has fallen away—what has been shed to make space for what is truly meant for me. Thank you for listening while I make my morning coffee and speak as if everyone and no one is listening at all. xoxo,S.G. Wells This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit sgwells.substack.com [https://sgwells.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

Intercession

I wonder if my future self is calling out to me. I wonder if she is happy—if she looks back on me encouragingly. Does she know that we deserved better all along? I imagine she is beautiful. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror—not in a vain way, but the way a mother looks fondly at her child. My eyes fill with tears when this happens. I hope she knows how beautiful she is now. I hope she protects our hearts carefully, the way no one ever taught us to. Where she lives—wherever she resides now—are there men who scream at her? Men who shout, again and again, that they want her out of their lives simply for naming the truth, for saying, you are lying? Or has she found safety? Has she become successful—not in the way the world measures success, but in the quiet way of choosing herself? Does she trust the body that has carried us faithfully toward becoming whole? I hope she does. I pray for intercession. I plead with the air itself, as if my wishes might travel to her, as if she might hear me and reach back through time to manifest a better future. Sometimes I imagine she will scoop me up from this place, lift me out of the wreckage, and tell me I survived. I grew up miserable. I suppose that is why I am here now. I learned early that nothing good ever stays. Goodness is fleeting—you learn that young. It lives only in the space between blows, between being thrown against the wall. One moment, there is laughter; the next, you are blindsided by betrayal and bruises. Back then, the bruises were blue and purple. They were teeth knocked out beside the laundry machine. Now they are invisible. Now they scar my heart. This is the present. The abuse no longer leaves fingerprints, but it still teaches fear. Still teaches silence. Still whispers that love must hurt. And here—unfortunately, terrifyingly—I am the only one who can save me. So I hold onto the image of her. My future self. The woman who made it through. The woman who knew what good could be. I walk toward her even when I am exhausted. Even when my hands shake. I keep going because somewhere ahead, she is standing firm, waiting for me, and I believe—despite everything—that she is free. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit sgwells.substack.com [https://sgwells.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

Welcome to P.S. I’m Healing

Welcome to P.S. I’m Healing! Here you will find a space to pause and reflect. I share my writing, thoughts, and what I’m learning, and sometimes bring on guests to share their stories and journeys. New episodes drop on Sunday’s—grab your headphones, take a walk, or get cozy, and let’s dive in. xoxo, S.G. wells This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit sgwells.substack.com [https://sgwells.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]