Feeling Broken Inside — But Don’t Know Why?

Series on Trauma and Healing | Part 1

Sometimes, you feel broken inside but don’t know why — like there’s a weight no one else can see.

Maybe it’s a heaviness in your chest, or a quiet ache beneath the surface that never quite goes away. Maybe you’ve tried to push it down, distract yourself, or control your temper — but it lingers, colouring your days with confusion, exhaustion, or emptiness.

You’ve typed things into Google that you’ve never said out loud.

In the quiet hours, when the world sleeps, the weight of feeling broken inside can feel the heaviest.

At 2 a.m., when sleep won’t come —

After a conversation that left you hollow —

In the middle of an ordinary day, your body remembered what your mind tried to forget —

You’ve asked yourself:

Why am I like this?

Why do I overreact or get angry at small things?

Why do I get overwhelmed so easily?

Why can't I just move on?

Why do I feel too much, or not enough, or nothing at all?

You’ve tried to explain it, even to yourself.

Tried to name the ache without sounding dramatic.

Tried to bury it under gratitude, logic, or someone else's version of how things should feel.

But the truth is — it didn’t start here.

It didn’t start with this moment, this person, or this version of you.

Maybe you thought trauma looked different — like a big event, a sudden disaster, something obvious.

But sometimes trauma is quieter.

It’s like carrying a weighted blanket on your shoulders that no one else can see.

It’s learning to survive in a world that didn’t quite feel safe or loving — even if it looked okay from the outside.

And if no one ever named it as trauma — you might still hesitate to name it that yourself.

You might hear yourself say things like:

“They were good parents. I had everything I needed.”

“No one ever hit me. It wasn’t abusive.”

“They were just stressed — I was probably too sensitive.”

“I should’ve been more grateful. It wasn’t that bad.”

These aren’t just words.

They’re often the stories we tell to protect the people we love — and to protect ourselves from the pain of what we didn’t get.

Sometimes, we minimize our experience to avoid feeling disloyal, or because we were never taught that emotional pain counts, too.

But if something still hurts…

If you carry shame, anxiety, or a sense of disconnection that doesn’t quite make sense…

Then it mattered.

Even if it didn’t look like trauma.

Even if you’ve spent years telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal.

Your feelings are real.

And your story is allowed to be heard — without comparison, without justification, and without shame.

That Feeling Broken Inside Might Really Be Trauma— Even If You Don't Know It Yet

Trauma doesn’t always come with a clear story or dramatic event. Sometimes, that feeling broken inside comes from years of feeling unseen, unheard, or unsafe in ways that were never named or understood.

It can look like:

• Feeling on edge, irritable, or exhausted for no clear reason

• Struggling to trust others, even when you want to

• Avoiding closeness, even while craving connection

• Feeling “too much” or “not enough” in ways you can’t explain

• Reacting strongly or getting angry at small things, or shutting down completely

• Carrying shame, guilt, or a sense of being fundamentally flawed

If these feelings sound familiar, it’s not your fault — and it doesn’t mean you’re broken inside.

Your nervous system — and the different parts of you that carry pain, protect, or perform — have been trying to keep you safe. That’s a sign of strength, not weakness.

Healing begins with compassion for the part of you that feels broken inside

You don’t have to rush.

You don't have to fix it all at once.

You don’t even have to fully understand it yet.

If things feel overwhelming —

If you don’t have the words —

If part of you wants to look away —

That makes sense.

That’s not failure.

That’s your nervous system protecting you in the only way it knows how.

Healing doesn’t always start with clarity.

Sometimes it starts with confusion. With a lump in your throat. With the quiet thought, “Maybe something did happen to me.”

You don’t need to be ready.

Allow yourself gentleness, even if it feels unfamiliar right now.

Maybe today that means noticing a moment when you don’t feel anxious — even if it’s brief.

Or letting yourself exhale without guilt, just once.

Or whispering, “I’m doing the best I can,” even if you don’t fully believe it yet.

You are allowed to start small.

You are allowed to begin — even if you don’t know how.

A Gentle Self-Compassion Exercise to Try Today

Pause and take a slow, deep breath.

Place a hand gently on your heart or your belly — wherever it feels comforting.

If that doesn’t feel right, simply rest your hands softly in your lap, or just notice your breath.

Say quietly to yourself, “This is hard right now. I am here for myself.”

If saying this feels awkward or strange, you can simply notice the intention behind the words.

Notice any sensations — warmth, softness, or even discomfort — without trying to change them.

If sitting with discomfort feels too hard right now, it’s okay to gently acknowledge it and remind yourself it’s temporary — you don’t have to change or fix anything, just be as kind as you can.

Take another slow breath, reminding yourself, “I am doing the best I can.”

There’s no perfect way to do this — just your way, at your own pace.

Finding a moment of calm when you’re feeling broken inside can be the first step toward healing.

You Are Not Alone

If you’re reading this and something inside you is stirring — a quiet “that’s me” or a lump in your throat — that’s not nothing. That’s the beginning of knowing something inside you matters.

You don’t need to have it all figured out to start healing.

You don’t need the perfect words.

You just need a place that feels safe enough to land.

At Liberated Mind Therapy, I work with people who carry invisible wounds — the kind that linger in the nervous system, in the self-talk, in the relationships that feel harder than they should.

Whether you’re just beginning to wonder if what you’ve experienced “counts” as trauma, or you already know you’re carrying something heavy... this is a space where your story is allowed to unfold gently, in your own time.

You don’t have to carry this alone anymore.

A Few Soft Truths to Hold On To

• If something still hurts, it matters — even if you don’t have all the words for it yet.

• You don’t have to justify or minimize your pain.

• What you feel is not a flaw — it’s a response.

• You are not too sensitive or too angry. You adapted.

• Naming what you’ve carried is a powerful beginning.

• Healing doesn’t require you to rush. Just to be willing.

• You are not alone in this.

Coming Next in This Series:

Part 2: The Weight We Carry: Naming and Healing the Unseen Wounds of Trauma