3. The Art of Detachment (Without Going Numb) : How to Let Go When Everything Feels High Stakes

There's a kind of strength that doesn't look like fighting. It looks like letting go. Not giving up, but detaching. If you've ever had to co-parent with someone unpredictable or love a child who needs extra patience, you know how draining it can be to stay emotionally steady.

This is the Transcript for Episode 3.

Every reaction, every word, every tone feels like it carries weight. And sometimes you just need to step back to keep your peace. But detachment can be misunderstood. It's not cold, it's not apathy, and it's not about pretending you don't care, because you do.

"Healthy detachment is emotional breathing space"

It's the decision to stop letting someone else's behavior control your nervous system. When you're in a storm, whether that's a courtroom, a difficult conversation, or a tense exchange with your co-parent, detachment sounds like this, "I can stay calm even if they don't. I don't have to absorb this. Their chaos isn't mine to manage".

It's a skill. And like any skill, it takes practice

For me, it started with noticing my body, the tight chest, the racing heart, the anxiety attacks, the urge to explain or defend myself. Those were signs that I was entangled again. However, even though I wanted peace, my body was stuck in survival.

PTSD had rewired me to live on high alert. So every sound, every message, every memory could send me spiraling. People told me to just stay calm or not react. But when your nervous system doesn't feel safe, calm is not a choice. With PTSD, your body reacts before your mind can react.

It wasn't until I went through trauma therapy, for me that meant EMDR, eye movement desensitization and reprocessing, that I realized detachment isn't emotional distance. It's a nervous system that finally believes it is safe enough to pause. Before that, I couldn't detach. My body wouldn't let me.

And really that's just biology. When I talk about detachment now, I don't mean pretending you don't care or shutting people out. Like I was saying earlier, what I learned was to pause, literally exhale, ground myself, picture a small space between me and the situation, which I very much care about. It's a space filled with calm where I can think clearly.

That space, that's detachment

It's not something I think my way into. It's something I grew into as the nervous system learns safety again. It lets you respond instead of react. It lets you model regulation for your child instead of passing the tension down. And it teaches you slowly, gently, that peace doesn't depend on anyone else's choices.

If you've been told you're too cold or too distant, remember, people who benefit from your overreaction will always resent your calm. That doesn't make your calm wrong. It makes it powerful. If you're stuck, if you're in the thick of it right now, if your heart still races at those triggers that we mentioned, messages from your ex, preparing for a family court hearing, please know you're not failing at healing. You're just in the part of the process where your body is still learning that you're safe. And healing takes time.

Peace isn't a personality trait

It's not innate! It's a state your body remembers once it's ready. So today, take a moment to breathe before you answer that text. Walk away before you explain again. Notice your body before you get pulled into someone else's story. That pause, that breath, that's the line between peace and chaos. That's where detachment starts. Not with control, but with compassion for what your nervous system has carried.

You're not being unkind for protecting your peace. You're teaching your children and yourself what emotional safety looks like. And every time you give your body a little more safety, peace becomes a little more possible. This is Light in the Battle. Thank you for being here.

If you found this Episode helpful, you'll enjoy Episode 4 - Trauma Responses in Parenthood - When Your Child Mirrors Your Pain