What It Meant to Accept That My Body Needed Distance
Reframing distance as information instead of avoidance
At first, I resisted the idea that distance could help.
I wanted reassurance that staying was possible, that effort and patience would be enough.
“I worried that stepping away meant I was letting fear make the decisions.”
But my body kept responding the same way.
This didn’t mean I was fragile — it meant my system was asking for something specific.
Why Distance Felt Like the Wrong Answer
I associated distance with giving up.
Staying felt like proof that I was handling things correctly.
“I treated endurance as courage and relief as weakness.”
This mindset kept me negotiating with a space my body wasn’t settling into.
I had already begun questioning that pattern when leaving didn’t mean remediation failed, which I reflected on in Why Leaving Didn’t Mean Remediation Failed.
What Distance Changed That Effort Couldn’t
Distance wasn’t dramatic.
It didn’t erase symptoms overnight or solve every question.
“What it changed was how hard my body had to work just to exist.”
Without constant exposure, my nervous system softened.
That softness told me more than months of effort ever had.
Why Needing Distance Isn’t the Same as Being Unsafe
I had to unlearn the idea that distance meant danger.
Sometimes it simply means compatibility isn’t there yet.
“My body wasn’t reacting to threat — it was responding to overload.”
This helped me hold nuance instead of panic.
It also helped me understand why some homes aren’t recoverable for certain bodies, which I explored in Why Some Homes Aren’t Recoverable for Certain Bodies.
What Accepting Distance Gave Me Back
Once I accepted distance, the internal conflict eased.
I stopped trying to prove something to myself.
“Distance gave my body permission to stop negotiating.”
This didn’t close the chapter.
It allowed the next one to begin without urgency.