😬 Pretending to like jazz because the person you were dating loved it.
😬 Laughing at something that actually… really fucking hurt.
😬 Talking shit about someone because everyone else was doing it — even though you felt so gross and small afterwards.
😬 Going wildly out of your way for someone who you’ve come to realize wouldn’t do a fraction of the same for you. And then they ghost you.
😬 Saying “It’s fine” when it absolutely fucking wasn’t.
😬 Explaining yourself for the 5th Goddamn time because you desperately wanted them to understand you!
😬 Keeping your opinion to yourself because you could already feel the room would change if you said what you really thought.
😬 Agreeing before you even had time to notice whether you actually agreed.
These moments can look small, and sometimes we even miss them.
But underneath them is often a much bigger question:
What happens when telling the truth threatens your belonging?
Because sometimes the thing keeping you quiet isn’t that you don’t know what’s true.
Your body knows.
You can feel it in your tightening throat.
The drop in your stomach.
The heat in your chest and your cheeks.
The sentence you type and delete. Type and delete…
The thing you rehearse in the shower but never f*cking say out loud.
And somewhere between knowing and actually saying it, something else happens.
We leave ourselves.
Not because we’re cowards or liars.
Often because, somewhere along the way, our system learned that staying connected — to our family, our community, our partner, our workplace, our identity as a “good” person — sometimes required us to leave something true unsaid and unfelt.
What if you could simply stay with it long enough to hear what’s there?
That’s what these prompts are for.
12 Somatic writing prompts for the things you’re afraid to say out loud {and what it’s costing you} is a body-first writing practice drawn from verbal prompts and the realms of experience I use in Hakomi method in session with my clients.
Instead of trying to think your way into an answer, you’ll begin with an actual moment in your life when something has felt, or chronically feels, difficult to say.
Then you’ll slow it waaay TF dooown.
Notice where it lives in your body.
Track it and stay with it as it changes.
So you can finally listen to what it’s here to tell you.
You’ll follow what’s happening through your body, emotions, thoughts, the meanings you make, your memories, longings, beliefs, and the deeper knowing that’s tucked well beneath your words.
Because the sentence you’re afraid to say may not be your deepest truth.
Sometimes there’s another story underneath it…
And another underneath that.
You’ll move from the thing you think you’re afraid to say…
through what happens in your body when you get close to saying it…
into the emotions, impulses, meanings, old stories, protective strategies, and longings underneath it.
You’re not trying to force an answer, love.
And you’re not trying to convince yourself to finally “speak your truth.” {That’s not what this practice is for.}
I want you to understand why this particular truth feels dangerous in the first place — and what staying silent has been costing you all these years. {Because it’s fucking expensive. It’s run up a huge tab and it’s not getting any cheaper. And because we’re all out of time in this shitshow of a culture for wasting any more of it.}
By the end, you may discover that the sentence you started with wasn’t actually the deepest thing you needed to hear.
That’s what I call the story beneath the story.
That’s important.
This isn’t a worksheet designed to make you confront someone, set a boundary, quit your job, blow up a relationship, or finally say “The Damn Thing.”
You don’t have to turn uncertainty into some kind of answer, love. You don’t even have to speak the truth you’ve discovered out loud.
First, just practice not leaving yourself when it arrives.
Stay curious about what you don’t know. Stay with what you do know. And let your body tell you more.
Because sometimes the beginning of telling the truth isn’t speaking with your mouth or your pen or your keyboard.
My name is Koa Elder. I'm a Hakomi method-trained somatic coach, writer, and founder of Conscious Content, where I use body wisdom to help you stay with what's true long enough to say what fucking matters.
As someone who grew up in a family where my voice and my truth got me hurt, I had to learn how to hold the pain of that alone.
From my first job {ehem, sexual harassment experience} at age 16 through a 22-year management and content career across creative agencies, fortune 500s, and tech startups — I saw women’s voices and truth get them hurt too.
And lose them their livelihoods. Mine included.
What I’ve learned from all that is toxic systems can change when you stop abandoning yourself to belong. It's why I help you stay with what’s true for you long enough to say what fucking matters.
Founder, Conscious Content