In the latest episode of Rays of Light, we explored a quiet but powerful dynamic that most of us live with without noticing—the ongoing back‑and‑forth between our bodies and our minds, and how that exchange shapes our day-to-day sense of control.
We followed Gabriella as she grappled with the feeling that her body was “betraying” her—experiencing brain fog, shifting moods, and a loss of confidence during a period of hormonal change. Our conversation and a few hypnotherapeutic interventions uncovered three core ideas:
If you haven’t listened yet, you can find the episode here.
Even though Gabriella’s experience feels feminine, the pattern she describes is something many of us encounter: our bodies send signals, our minds interpret them, and the quality of that interpretation determines whether we feel empowered or stuck.
Understanding why a solid sense of control matters is the first step toward breaking that cycle.
The Body–Mind Feedback Loop
When people talk about feeling “out of control,” they’re often describing a breakdown in communication between the body and the mind.
Sometimes the process begins with physical change—fatigue, tension, brain fog, shifts in energy. Other times, it begins with emotional strain—stress, worry, grief, or prolonged pressure. Either way, the mind and body respond to each other continuously, interpreting signals and reacting in ways that can amplify the experience.
This ongoing exchange forms a feedback loop. Sensations influence thoughts, thoughts shape emotional responses, and those emotional responses feed back into the body. When the loop intensifies, it can feel as though control has slipped away.
When Physical Changes Shape Mental Experience
In cases where the shift begins with sensations, the body sends signals, then the mind interprets them.
Energy drops. Focus feels harder to sustain. The body feels heavier, slower, or unfamiliar in subtle ways. These signals arrive before we consciously interpret them, but interpretation follows quickly.
A foggy morning can turn into concern about mental sharpness. A sudden wave of irritability can feel like a personality change. A loss of physical strength or stamina may quietly challenge how capable or reliable we believe ourselves to be. We have an innate need to find meaning in everything we feel, whether it’s an emotion or a physical sensation.
This is especially true during periods of change. When physical signals repeat or fluctuate unpredictably, the mind looks for explanations. It tries to make sense of what’s happening by filling in gaps—sometimes with curiosity, but often with worry or self-judgment.
In those moments, it’s easy to mistake a temporary state for a permanent decline. The body sends information, and the mind responds with a story about what that information says about who we are, what we can handle, or what might come next.
Recognizing this pattern doesn’t make the sensations disappear. But it can create a small pause between what the body is experiencing and the conclusions the mind draws from it—and that pause matters.
When Emotional Strain Shows Up in the Body
Sometimes the loop begins quietly on the emotional side.
Ongoing stress, unresolved tension, or a period of heightened responsibility can shift how the nervous system operates long before the body produces a clear symptom. At first, it may simply feel like being “on edge,” distracted, or mentally tired. But when that state persists, the body begins to respond.
Sleep becomes lighter. Digestion feels less steady. Muscles stay subtly contracted. Energy fluctuates without a clear reason. Medical tests may show nothing out of range, yet the body unmistakably feels different.
This is often the point where people are told, “It’s just stress.” What’s usually missing from that statement is an explanation of how real and physical the effects of prolonged emotional strain can be.
When the mind remains in a state of vigilance—anticipating problems, managing uncertainty, or carrying unexpressed emotion—the nervous system stays activated. Over time, that activation can become the body’s new baseline. What began as an emotional response now registers as a physical condition.
At that stage, the loop is fully established. Physical symptoms reinforce concern, concern increases tension, and the system continues responding to itself.
Understanding this doesn’t mean blaming emotions for physical experiences. It simply acknowledges that the mind and body share the same communication channel—and either one can initiate the conversation.
Why a Sense of Control Changes Everything
What makes the body–mind loop so unsettling isn’t the symptoms themselves—it’s the feeling that they’re happening to us.
Whether the loop begins with physical changes or emotional strain, the moment distress deepens is often the moment we start to feel powerless. Sensations seem unpredictable. Moods feel unfamiliar. The system appears to be running on its own, without our input.
That loss of agency is what keeps the loop active.
When we feel out of control, the nervous system stays alert. It scans for threats, monitors sensations closely, and interprets change as danger. When we don’t understand what’s happening, ordinary sensations—fatigue, restlessness, mental fog—can begin to feel like warning signs rather than passing states.
By contrast, when a sense of control is restored—even partially—the system responds differently. The body doesn’t need to shout as loudly. The mind doesn’t need to stay on guard. Balance begins to return not because the symptoms were forced away, but because the relationship with them has changed.
Control here doesn’t mean mastery or suppression. It doesn’t mean “fixing” the body or overriding emotion. It means regaining the sense that we are in conversation with our experience, rather than at its mercy.
That shift—from being overwhelmed by what’s happening to being able to relate to it—often marks the turning point. Once agency is restored, the loop loosens. The body and mind stop reinforcing distress and begin supporting regulation instead.
A Different Way of Relating to Change
When changes in mood, focus, or physical comfort linger, it’s common for frustration, worry, or self-judgment to appear: “Why can’t I snap out of this?”, “Why is this happening to me?”, or “What does this say about me?”
Those thoughts tighten the body, heighten alertness, and make experiences feel heavier. What began as a passing state now feels threatening—not because the change itself is dangerous, but because of the meaning we’ve attached to it. That’s where the loop intensifies.
A more helpful shift starts with recognizing that the loop is happening. If you’ve been under emotional strain, it makes sense that your system might respond. But that doesn’t define who you are. Physical changes may affect capacity or energy, but again, they don’t make you less capable, intelligent, or yourself.
What tends to make the experience unbearable isn’t the change itself, but the way our thoughts fuse with it. When every sensation or symptom becomes evidence of failure or decline, the nervous system stays on high alert.
Separating the experience from the story we tell about it can make a surprising difference.
Practices like journaling—writing directly to a symptom or a part of the body, or putting words to unspoken stress—can help create that space. So can simple moments of attention, gently bringing warmth or kindness to an area of discomfort. These aren’t about fixing or forcing anything to change. They’re about loosening the grip of the loop.
And often, as that grip softens, a sense of control returns—not control over what’s happening, but over how much it takes over your inner world. That alone can make change feel more manageable.
Living With Change, Without Losing Yourself
Change in the body or mind can be unsettling, especially when it disrupts the way we’re used to functioning. It can challenge our sense of identity, competence, and control. But as Gabriella’s story shows, struggle doesn’t mean something is wrong with you—it often means something is in motion.
When we stop fighting every signal and start listening with a little more curiosity and compassion, the body–mind loop begins to soften. Thoughts loosen. Sensations become more manageable. And control returns—not as rigidity, but as flexibility.
You don’t have to navigate all of this alone. Hypnotherapy can be one way of working with this process. Rather than trying to eliminate symptoms or force change, it can help create space between experience and interpretation—softening the thoughts that intensify the loop and supporting a steadier sense of control.