From Self-Erasure to Self-Trust

What a Routine Medical Procedure Taught Me About Healing.

Recently, I had an unexpected experience following a routine blood test.

The procedure itself was simple. In my mind I knew this would take a few minutes.

A sharp prick.

Yet my body had an entirely different experience. It remembered past times where needles had caused me a lot of pain.

My nervous system was preparing for a serious invasion.

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The nurse spoke about consent, that I was in control and if I asked her to stop, she would.

This allowed one layer of the bracing in my system to soften.

During the procedure spontaneous sounds and movements began to emerge.

I had warned the nurse that this was simply my autistic response, I didn't try to hide it.

Immediately afterwards my body reacted strongly.

I sweated profusely.

I felt shaky and disoriented.

As I walked back to my car, spontaneous sounds and movements began to emerge.

Years ago, I would likely have dismissed this experience.

I might have told myself I was overreacting.

Being dramatic.

Too sensitive.

Instead, I did something different.

I allowed it.

Not because I understood exactly what was happening, but because I trusted that my body was responding to something real.

I allowed the movements.

I allowed the sounds.

I allowed myself to rest.

I sat with a tree in the park.

I connected with the earth.

I gave my system space to do whatever it seemed to need to do.

The experience left me reflecting on something I have spent much of my life learning:

The difference between listening to ourselves and overriding ourselves.

The Habit of Self-Erasure

Many people grow up learning to question their own experience.

Perhaps they are told they are too sensitive.

Perhaps they learn that their discomfort inconveniences others.

Perhaps they discover that fitting in is safer than being honest.

Over time, this can create a subtle form of self-erasure.

You feel tired, but push through.

You feel overwhelmed, but tell yourself you're fine.

You feel pain, but convince yourself it isn't that bad.

You learn to doubt what your body is telling you.

For many neurodivergent and highly sensitive people, this becomes a lifelong pattern.

The body says one thing.

The mind says another.

And eventually the mind becomes louder.

What Changed?

The most significant part of this story was not the blood test.

It was what happened afterwards.

My arm remained painful for several days.

Rather than dismissing it, I believed myself.

I adjusted my plans.

I rested.

I treated the experience as real.

There was no battle.

No internal argument.

No attempt to convince myself that I should be coping better.

Just simple acknowledgement:

My arm hurts.

That might sound insignificant.

In reality, it represented a profound shift.

For many years, my default response would have been self-doubt.

This time, trust replaced self-doubt.

And I suspect that matters more than we realise.

A Different Experience

A short while later, I returned for another blood test.

Same hospital.

Same nurse.

Same time of day.

This time, the procedure was quicker and required a smaller sample.

I prepared differently.

I grounded myself beforehand.

I sat with an ancient rock in the park.

I spent time with a tree.

I adjusted my diary to allow recovery if I needed it.

I expected that my experience would be whatever it was.

Afterwards, I still felt woozy.

But the response was noticeably different.

There were fewer involuntary movements immediately afterwards.

Less intensity.

Less discomfort.

Even the arm pain was significantly reduced.

I was able to wash the dishes that evening and water the garden the following morning.

The interesting question is not whether the second blood test was physically different.

The interesting question is what changed within me.

Bracing and Trust

Trauma-informed practitioners often speak about bracing.

The body's attempt to protect itself in anticipation of pain, danger, overwhelm or uncertainty.

Bracing is intelligent.

It develops for a reason.

But it can also create additional tension and suffering.

When we have spent years overriding our experience, the nervous system often learns that it must stay vigilant.

It must work harder.

It must shout louder.

What if healing is not always about removing symptoms?

What if part of healing is helping the nervous system discover that it no longer needs to fight so hard to be heard?

The shift may not be from pain to no pain.

The shift may be from self-erasure to trust.

The Body No Longer Has to Argue

One of the most powerful insights from this experience was recognising that healing may sometimes begin when we stop arguing with our own reality.

Not every sensation needs fixing.

Not every feeling needs explaining away.

Not every experience needs proving.

Sometimes the most healing response is simply:

I believe you.

I believe the pain.

I believe the fatigue.

I believe the overwhelm.

I believe the need for rest.

The irony is that when we stop fighting our experience, the experience itself often becomes easier to carry.

The body relaxes.

The nervous system softens.

The need to shout diminishes.

Self-Sovereignty Begins Here

Much of my work explores the idea of self-sovereignty.

The ability to remain connected to ourselves while navigating life, relationships and challenges.

I increasingly believe that one of the foundations of self-sovereignty is learning to trust our own experience.

Not blindly.

Not dramatically.

Simply honestly.

To notice what is true.

To allow what is present.

To respond with curiosity rather than judgement.

For me, this lesson arrived through something as ordinary as a blood test.

But the principle reaches much further.

Healing may not begin when we force ourselves to change.

It may begin when we stop abandoning ourselves.

When self-doubt softens.

When listening replaces overriding.

When trust replaces self-erasure.

And when we finally allow ourselves to believe what our body has been trying to tell us all along.