I was seven when I first noticed how my body could sense the smallest changes in Dad’s face. A tiny shift that most people wouldn’t catch. But I saw it. I always saw it.

That’s what happens to kids like us. We become experts at reading tiny signals – a slight change in expression, a shift in the air. Not that it helped much. Sometimes nothing could help. But we learned anyway.

People used to tell me I was too sensitive, too anxious. They weren’t wrong. My body had learned to sound alarms at the smallest hint of trouble. That constant knot in my stomach became my normal.

These days, I’m trying to unlearn some of that vigilance. To accept that not every slight change means danger. That not everyone is my father. That it’s okay to relax sometimes.

Your gut feelings aren’t random – they’re built from everything you’ve lived through. Hard lessons, learned early. But maybe they don’t need to be on high alert all the time anymore.

So to everyone who grew up walking on eggshells: your instincts helped you survive. But it’s okay to let your guard down sometimes. To breathe. To trust that not everything is a warning sign.

We’re safe now. We can learn to relax.