There are stories you cannot tell. Not because you’re hiding them. Not because you’re in denial. But because your nervous system filed them somewhere your language doesn’t reach. Your body remembers what your mind re-wrote. It remembers the night you froze.The moment you dissociated. The sound of the door. The way someone’s breath changed before they exploded. The feeling of being watched. The shame that landed in your stomach and never left. You may not remember the details. But your muscles do. Your vagus nerve does. Your breath does. Your startle reflex does. Your chronic inflammation does. We’ve all heard the phrase from Bessel van der Kolk — “The body keeps the score.” He’s right. But what doesn’t get talked about enough is this: The body doesn’t just keep score. It keeps secrets.

I’ve sat across from clients in my office who dread Valentine’s Day more than any other holiday, and this conversation comes up every single year. Valentine’s Day is supposed to be about love. That’s the story, anyway. Romance. Connection. Feeling chosen. Feeling special. Feeling secure. But if you have Borderline Personality Disorder, Valentine’s Day often feels like the emotional equivalent of standing under fluorescent lighting while every insecurity you’ve ever had about love gets highlighted at once. It’s not cozy. It’s not cute. It’s not heart-shaped chocolates and soft music. It’s pressure. It’s waiting. It’s that familiar, sickening feeling in your chest that whispers, this matters more than you want it to… and that’s dangerous.