There is a truth that runs through the history of medicine and spirituality, a truth we have forgotten, buried under layers of diagnoses, medications, and symptomatic therapies. The deepest pain of the soul is not that which is expressed in words, not that which finds release in tears or anger.
It is that which remains in silence. It is that which is swallowed, repressed, denied. It is that which we learn not to say, not to feel, not to show. And that pain, that silent suffering, does not disappear. It does not dissolve. It does not heal on its own. It finds other ways to make itself felt. It insinuates itself into the body, nestles in muscles, cysts in organs, transforms into symptom, into illness, into exhaustion, into depression.
The body carries the weight that the soul could not express. And it carries it until it can, until the day it can no longer, until the day it collapses.
Psychosomatic medicine, for decades, has spoken to us of this profound link between what happens in the soul and what manifests in the body. It is not suggestion, not fantasy, not one of those marginal theories that make old-school scientists smile. It is science. It is data. It is clinical evidence.
The World Health Organization recognizes that over seventy percent of diseases have a psychosomatic component.
This means that more than seven out of ten diseases have deep, invisible roots in what we have repressed, in what we have not said, in what we have hidden from ourselves and the world. The body does not lie. The body cannot lie. While the mouth learns to be silent, the body continues to speak. In its own way, with its own language, with its symptoms, with its crises.
When the soul speaks, but the mouth remains silent, then the body carries the weight you have hidden inside. For so long invisible, unheard, that weight accumulates, sediments, becomes mass.
And the day comes when the body says enough. The day comes when it can no longer. The day comes when you collapse. And that collapse, that crisis, that illness, is nothing other than the words the soul never could pronounce, that finally, through the body, manage to make themselves heard. Exhaustion. Depression. Chronic pain. Autoimmune diseases. Gastrointestinal disorders.
The body screams what the soul has always wanted to say. And we, for years, have learned to silence the body with medications, with therapies, with diagnoses that look at the symptom and not the cause. We have turned off the bell without ever asking ourselves why it rang.
The words of Gabor Maté, world-renowned Canadian physician, have illuminated this truth for millions of people. His studies on the connection between childhood trauma and chronic diseases have shown what official medicine too often ignores: that there is no separation between mind and body, that what happens in the soul leaves indelible traces in biology, that unsaid wounds, unexpressed emotions, unprocessed experiences become fertile ground for illness.
Maté tells of patients with autoimmune diseases who, when they begin to speak of their traumas, their silences, their hidden sufferings, see symptoms reduce, sometimes disappear. It is not magic. It is the body that, finally heard, finally recognized, can stop screaming.
And so, we must ask ourselves honestly: what pain is waiting to finally be felt, in our soul? What word was never said? What wound remained open beneath the surface? What silence have we imposed on ourselves, out of fear, out of shame, out of protection? Childhood taught us to be quiet when the soul wanted to speak. It taught us that certain things are not said, that certain emotions are not shown, that certain wounds are hidden. And so we learned.
We learned so well that today, as adults, we continue to be silent. We continue to hide. We continue to carry weights that no one asked us to carry, and that no one, alone, can bear forever.
But today, perhaps, it can be different. Today we can choose to give space to our soul. We can choose to listen to what for years we have ignored. We can choose to let the soul speak, to cry, to scream, to break. Because only when it breaks, when it finally lets go, can it reassemble in a new way, truer, more alive. There is no healing without tearing.
There is no rebirth without death. There is no liberation without the pain finally being traversed, felt, welcomed.
Depth psychology knows this well. Carl Gustav Jung, the great Swiss psychoanalyst, wrote that “what is not brought to consciousness manifests in fate as fatality.” And it also manifests in the body, we could add. What is not said, what is not felt, what is not processed, does not disappear. It becomes symptom. It becomes illness. It becomes that depression that has no name, that anxiety that has no cause, that fatigue that never passes. Because the body, faithful servant of the soul, continues to speak. It continues to remind us of what we have forgotten. It continues to ask us to listen.
And so, the invitation is simple and at the same time radical: listen. Listen to your body. Listen to its symptoms, its pains, its fatigues. Not as enemies to fight, but as messengers to question. What are they trying to tell you? What word was not said? What wound was not healed? What weight are you carrying for too long? And then, more deeply, listen to your soul. Find the time, find the space, find the courage to let it speak. Write, if it helps. Cry, if you need to. Scream, if it is necessary.
Find someone who listens to you without judging, without interrupting, without trying to fix. A psychotherapist, a true friend, a listening group. Because the soul needs to be listened to. Not to be consoled, not to be reassured, not to be distracted. To be listened to. Truly listened to.
There are ancient practices, rediscovered today, that can help us on this path. Therapeutic journaling, free writing of what happens inside, without filters, without censorship.
Meditation, which teaches us to stay with what emerges without fleeing. Body therapies, which work on physical blocks as access doors to emotional blocks. Work with dreams, which Jung called “the royal road to the unconscious.” All paths that lead to the same destination: giving voice to what remained in silence, giving space to what was compressed, giving listening to what was ignored.
Today, in this moment, you can begin. You can take five minutes, ten minutes, half an hour. You can sit in a quiet place, close your eyes, bring attention inside. And ask your soul: what do you need to tell me? What pain are you waiting to be felt? What word have you never been able to pronounce? And then listen. Without judgment, without haste, without fear. Let the words come, the images, the sensations. Let the crying come, if it must come. Let the anger come, if it must come. Let the soul finally speak.
And when the soul speaks, when the silence breaks, when the weight begins to lift, the body feels it. It feels it immediately. The tension that dissolves, the breath that widens, the space that opens. Because the body is nothing other than the soul made visible. And when the soul finds its voice, the body can stop screaming. It can rest. It can heal.
Let your soul speak. Today. Now. In this moment. Give space to what was hidden. Listen to what was ignored. Let go of what you have carried for too long. Because the body has carried the weight until it could. Now is the moment to let it go. Now is the moment to say the word that was never said. Now is the moment to cry the tear that was never shed. Now is the moment to liberate the soul.
And when the soul is free, the body is free. When the soul breathes, the body breathes. When the soul finds peace, the body finds peace. Because there is no separation. There never was. There is only a journey, a path, a life that asks to be lived fully, with all it carries, with all it is.
Today, in this moment, you can take the first step. You can say to yourself: I give myself permission to feel.
I give myself permission to speak. I give myself permission to be.
And from there, from that small space of freedom, everything can begin. Healing can begin. Life can begin.
Finally.
RVSCB
