Why You Feel Like Something Is Wrong With You (It’s Not What You Think)

There are seasons in life that don’t make sense

The quiet ones. The heavy ones.

The ones where nothing is technically wrong…

but everything in your body feels like it is.

In this episode, I take you inside one of those days.

A day where I didn’t perform.

A day where I slowed down… and felt everything.

A day that revealed something deeper about what so many of us carry:

The belief that something is wrong with us.

Through real conversations — from a woman leaving an abusive relationship to a man learning to forgive his mother — a deeper truth emerges:

We’re not broken.

We’ve just been living inside patterns that taught us to see ourselves that way.

This episode is for the one who feels:

• alone in their emotions
• like they’re “too much” or “not enough”
• stuck in cycles of self-judgment and pressure
• exhausted from trying to fix themselves

You’re not alone.

And more importantly…

you’re not the problem.

This is a conversation about presence, nervous system safety, identity, and what actually happens when you stop running from yourself.

If you're ready to meet yourself more honestly, 

Join the Spiritually Kinky Community for Creators on Skool! 

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:02

So, have you ever had a day where nothing is technically wrong, but everything in your body feels like it is. Your stomach is tight, your body feels heavy or electric, emotions are coming in waves. And underneath it all, there's this quiet question. Whispering. What is wrong with me? So, for those of you that don't know what's been happening the past couple of months, is my soul baby Simba got diagnosed with a mass in his nose in September. And we've been going through the options of trying to extend the quality and the quantity of his life. And the quantity of his life is out of my control. So I've just been here with him through his journey to the end of his life. And if you've ever loved a pet that deeply, you know that a storm like that is not always loud and it's not always visible. And it's the kind that lives inside your body. The kind where you're carrying a lot. Stories, emotions, grief, pressure. And you're still showing up. You're still working, you're still moving, still holding it together. And if I'm being honest, there have been moments in this season where I have felt worn out and tired in a way that sleep doesn't fix. Bracing. Feeling like I'm doing it all on my own. And I know I'm not the only one because lately I've been having conversations with people, like those real deep, connected conversations. And the theme has been the same. I met a woman, she was 22, just getting out of an abusive relationship. And you could feel it. The moment where she's starting to remember, I'm not broken. Not fully there yet, but something in her is waking up. Something in her is remembering. And then early this morning, I met a man, 32. He was talking about his mom, who was a drug addict. And in the same breath, he was giving her forgiveness. Not from bypassing, not from pretending it didn't hurt. But from the deep understanding of she did the best she could with what she had. And acknowledging a gift that she gave him of unconditional love. And you could feel the shift in him. Like something heavy finally loosened. And as I was sitting with them, I realized like these aren't separate stories. This is the same pattern, just wearing different faces. Because underneath it all, there's a quiet, constant pressure that so many of us are living under. Trying to get it right, trying to fix ourselves, trying to control how everything unfolds. And when it doesn't, we turn on ourselves. We judge, we blame, we shame. We compare ourselves to some invisible standard that we can't even fully name. A higher version, a better version, a more perfect version, a healed version, a worthy version, an enough version. But we always feel like we're falling short of it. And today I watched that pattern in myself too. The subtle pull to fix the feeling, to get out of it, to control it. But instead, I did something different. Today I didn't perform. It's Easter and I didn't go to my parents' house, not because I don't love them, but because something in me said stay. Stay with myself. Stay with my space. Stay with Simba. So I cleaned my house. I did laundry. That's been honestly sitting there for months. Cleaned my bedding, my space. I cried. Not dramatic. Just real. I stretched. I felt tension and pain. I did not even realize I was holding. I slowed down enough to actually feel my body again. And Simba, he's been a little off today. He's been refusing to eat. He's been slower. Something shifted. He's been kind of wanting to eat, but then he decides not to. And for my time with him today, besides our few walks, he's been laying here close. He's wanted extra attention. Right now he's curled up in the sun, and I don't know what it means. But here's what I do know is that nothing is actually wrong. And at the same time, everything is being felt. Because when they finally slow down, when you stop performing, when you stop running, when you don't immediately feel peace, you feel everything that you've been avoiding. And if you don't understand that, you'll make it mean something is wrong with you. So you'll go back into the pattern. I need to fix this. I need to get out of this feeling. I must be the problem. But what if you're not the problem? What if that voice is just a pattern you learned? In moments where things didn't feel safe or didn't make sense or hurt more than you knew how to process? What if that tight feeling in your body, the emotional wave, the sense of something's off isn't proof that you're broken, but proof that you're finally not running. Because the 22-year-old woman is starting to remember she's not broken. The 32-year-old is starting to release blame and see with compassion. And me laying here with my cat, feeling everything instead of fixing it. We are all just meeting ourselves a little more honestly. So to the one listening, who feels alone, who feels flawed, who feels like you're always just a little off, who feels broken. I see you. And I want you to hear this: that nothing is wrong with you. You're not broken. You've just been taught to relate to yourself through pressure, through control, through self-judgment instead of presence. And maybe the next time you feel that tightness, that emotion, that wave. Instead of asking what's wrong with me, you try something different. What if this is me finally being with myself? If you want to go deeper into this work, into understanding how to shift out of that survival pattern and actually start creating your life from a different place, even when you're in a storm, then come join us in our community on school. It's a spiritually kinky community for creators. Because if you're ready to meet yourself more honestly, what you'll start to remember is that, babe, you are not broken. You are the creative force within. And you get to choose what you'd love to create. And whether you're here to be a little bit spiritual, or you're here to be a little bit kinky, or you're here like me, to be a whole lot of both, in understanding that creation is one of the kinkiest things that you will ever do. Lead with love, my friends. And in case nobody told you today, I see you, I feel you, and I love you, and you are not alone.