When lived experience remains unprocessed
When we think of trauma, we usually imagine something that happened in the past - a difficult or painful event that we have somehow left behind. But this is not always the case. Some experiences may end in a factual sense, yet remain unresolved within us. They stay somewhere in between, without reaching their natural completion, and it is precisely this unfinished quality that shows up in other ways, often seemingly hard to understand.
It is less about a thought or a memory, and more about a state - a background tension that appears in moments when, on the surface, there seems to be no reason for it, yet it is still present. Our body remembers differently, not through narrative but through sensations that return and recur without a fully clear origin. Trauma continues to be experienced in the present, which partly explains why we sometimes react more intensely than a situation seems to require, or in ways we do not fully understand.
The nervous system in survival mode
Our body has its own ways of responding - it can fight, flee, or freeze when there is no other option, and these reactions are part of how we function. The challenge is that when they remain incomplete, when something interrupts or holds them back, they do not simply disappear but remain as an unfinished process. This interrupted movement can then show up as tension or a sense that we cannot fully relax, even when everything appears to be fine.
Waking the Tiger by Peter Levine describes how trauma can remain in the nervous system as something that has not found its natural completion, keeping the organism in a state of readiness. One of the key points in Levine’s work is that the body does not hold the event itself, but the response to it. He explains that the organism naturally seeks ways to discharge this bound energy, but when conditions do not allow for this process to complete, it can become stuck and begin to manifest in different ways. These manifestations may be experienced as tension, fatigue, pain, exhaustion, or a sense of internal blockage.
Background accumulation
Levine emphasizes that trauma is not only the result of a single overwhelming event, but can also build up gradually through small, repeated experiences in which a person had no opportunity to respond, set boundaries, or protect themselves. In this sense, the body can hold tension from a series of unfinished situations.
Over time, this state affects not only sensations but also the body itself - through hormonal regulation, the immune system, and the way inflammation arises and develops. And because it often unfolds gradually, we adapt to it and come to perceive it as normal, even when it is not. The background tension remains unspoken, and when it has nowhere to go, it begins to manifest in areas where our body is most vulnerable.
The uterus as a sacred vessel
In women, this is often associated with the pelvis and, in Daoist practice, more specifically the uterus, as it is an area where multiple layers intersect -physiology, a sense of safety, boundaries, intimacy, and control, which are often difficult to separate clearly.
The body may begin to hold tension in this specific area, typically building up over time and manifesting as recurring pain or discomfort.
In Daoist practices, the uterus is viewed as a space that stores experiences, including those that have not been expressed or released. The idea that our body remembers and holds information is not only metaphorical, but something that is considered experientially real and can be directly felt.
Pain as an experience
Pain in endometriosis is more than a symptom; it becomes an experience with multiple layers - physical, emotional, and mental. It carries tension, anticipation, and fear, which shape the way it is perceived. As Gabor Maté notes, when we do not allow ourselves to express what we are going through, the body begins to do it for us.
This creates a closed loop that is not easy to break, as each element reinforces the others. The nervous system “tunes” the body toward pain within this process and plays a key role in how symptoms are experienced. It carries its own rhythm, intensity, cyclicity, and a sense of continuous internal load. When the body has spent a long time in a state of tension or freeze, this affects inflammation and the overall felt experience. For example, sensitivity may gradually increase, so that even the anticipation of pain can contribute to its intensification.
In this way, it does not remain purely physical, but becomes part of a more complex process that includes how we respond to and process everything that is happening. This makes things difficult to predict and deeply exhausting, as the experience unfolds over time and affects the overall sense of safety in the female body.
Disconnection from bodily sensations
Sometimes, when something feels like too much, the female pelvis can “freeze” as a form of protection. Over time, however, it becomes harder to recognize its signals - when rest is needed, when there is tension, or when something is accumulating. As a result, it begins to “speak” more loudly, because the earlier, subtler signals have not been heard.
In Daoist practices, there is talk of returning to sensation, not through effort, but through attention, a gradual bringing of awareness back to the body, to the pelvis, and to the uterus, as a place that can once again be felt from within.
Another important aspect of this approach is the way the body naturally seeks to restore its own balance. When there is space to attend to bodily sensations without rushing to change them, movement can gradually re-emerge where there has been stagnation. This movement is often very subtle; it may appear as a slight trembling, a shift in breathing, or a sense of softening, but it is through these processes that the nervous system begins to complete what was once left unfinished.
Restoring balance
Despite everything, the body naturally strives for balance, even when this is not immediately noticed. Sometimes this process begins with very small shifts that are easy to miss - more breath, a softening, a moment in which tension eases, even briefly. These subtle changes may not seem significant, but they often signal that something within us is beginning to move again.
In this context, a sense of safety becomes the foundation for any change, as without it, we remain in a defensive state and are unable to release held tension. Recovery does not happen through effort or control, but rather through creating conditions in which the organism can gradually begin to relax and move out of a state of constant readiness.
From struggle to connection
The hardest part is often changing the way we relate to a symptom, because the natural response is to want to remove it, stop it, or get rid of it. The truth is that what brings change is not so much struggle, but attention. Permitting ourselves to stay with the sensation for a while, without rushing to change it, without immediately trying to fully understand it, and simply noticing what is there. And it is here that a different relationship with the body begins, not as something to control, but as something we can listen to, and through which stored information can be released.
Often, understanding these processes is not enough, because what remains within us does not change by thought alone. It needs to be felt, allowed, and gradually brought into movement. This is why working with the body becomes a natural continuation of this process as a way of coming closer to the experience that lies behind the symptom.
References:
Levine, P. A. (1997). Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma. North Atlantic Books.
Maté, G. (2003). When the Body Says No: The Cost of Hidden Stress. Knopf Canada.
Chia, M. (2005). Healing Love Through the Tao: Cultivating Female Sexual Energy. Destiny Books.