The One Who Kept You Alive
Mascari, Brooke - November 20th, 2025
This morning, during a coaching session, something shifted in a way I didn’t expect.
That’s what I love about coaching.
You don’t sit down to be lectured or “corrected.”
You sit down to be witnessed.
To be met exactly where you are.
To speak honestly, without needing to impress anyone or hold yourself together.
And as you do, something real begins to move.
Not through pressure.
Not through trying.
But through truth.
Today, I found myself face-to-face with the part of me I’ve spent years trying to quiet — the part that rushes, braces, overprepares, panics, and plans. And instead of trying to fix her, I finally saw her. I felt appreciation for her. I recognized how hard she has worked to protect me.
That moment didn’t come from trying harder.
It came from being honest and still.
Coaching created the safety that let me soften.
*This is why I love coaching... I recommend it to nearly everyone I meet because I know and have experienced the value and transformation.
It reminded me why I do what I do — not because people need to be “fixed,” but because they deserve to be supported into a deeper relationship with themselves. To have someone walk with them as they meet the parts of their own story they’ve been trying to outgrow.
If you feel ready to explore your nervous system, your patterns, your inner protector — not with shame, but with compassion and leadership — I would love to walk that journey with you!
(Book for free with me here)
And that brings me to the heart of what opened today:
The One Who Kept You Alive
There is a version of you
who has been holding your life together
with sheer instinct.
She does not ask your permission—
she simply acts.
She is the one who tightens your jaw,
plans too far ahead,
stays alert for danger that never comes
because once, it did.
She learned to protect you
when no one else did.
For so long, we call her a problem.
We try to silence her, fix her, outgrow her.
We say things like,
“I shouldn’t overthink.”
“I should be calmer by now.”
“Why can’t I relax?”
But what if she is not the enemy?
What if she is the part of you
who never stopped trying?
What if survival was the most sacred thing
you have ever done?
This week, something shifted.
Instead of judging your survival mode,
you paused long enough to see her—
not as frantic, not as dramatic,
but as faithful.
You realized she’s not trying to sabotage you.
She is trying to keep you alive in the only way she knows how.
She is a child of urgency,
raised on scarcity,
fluent in bracing for impact.
And now, you are the one who can care for her.
You do not need to get rid of survival mode.
You do not need to transcend her or silence her.
You simply need to let her travel with you
without letting her drive.
You can whisper to her,
“We’re safe now.
You don’t have to sprint ahead.
You can rest while I steer.”
This is not about replacing her
with a calmer version of you.
It is about becoming a woman
who leads herself gently.
A woman who trusts her nervous system
with the same gratitude
she once trusted adrenaline.
So the next time your mind races,
the next time your body braces,
the next time your heart tries to solve a danger
that isn’t here anymore—
pause.
Place a hand over your chest.
Feel the thump of a heart that has protected you
every single day of your life.
And instead of correcting it,
thank it.
Then slowly, softly, let your voice
be the new authority within you.
Not urgent.
Not harsh.
Just steady.
Because healing is not the absence of survival.
Healing is walking forward
with the one who kept you alive—
not as her hostage,
but as her home.