escort diary® of Kaliheartholistic: When the walls came down, something in me softened
I didn’t expect losing my home to feel like this.
Not just the obvious things.
Not just the memories or the routines.
But the way my body reacted.
It was subtle at first. A kind of quiet tension in my chest. Like I was holding something in place without even realising it.
Fifteen years in one space does that to you. You start to believe the safety is coming from the walls, from the familiarity, from knowing exactly how each day will unfold.
And then suddenly… it’s gone.
I cried more than I expected. For the trees. For the little rituals. For the version of me that existed so easily there.
But what surprised me most wasn’t the grief.
It was what came after.
Because when I stopped trying to fix how I felt… something in my body began to soften.
Not all at once. Not dramatically.
Just small things. A deeper breath. A little more space in my chest.
I’ve noticed this same thing in sessions too.
Men come in carrying tension they can’t quite name. Not because they’ve done anything wrong… but because they’ve been holding everything together for so long.
And when they finally feel safe… their body lets go in its own time.
No pressure. No performance.
Just warmth, presence… and a slow unraveling.
It makes me wonder how much we’re all holding without even knowing it.
And what might happen if, just for a moment… we stopped trying to hold it all together.
