Emotional Armor and the Cost of Control: By Gerardo Tinajero, MSW

For years, I thought control meant strength. Tight routines, rigid focus, and hyper-awareness were all things that once kept me alive. When you come from a background of service, structure feels like fuel. Predictability becomes the only kind of safety you can trust. But what I didn’t realize was that control also came with a cost.

Living on Guard:

For me, it started as hypervigilance. I noticed every sound, every change in a room, every slight shift in someone’s tone. My body never truly rested. I carried constant tension in my shoulders, my jaw, my gut. Eventually, that tension became so normal that I didn’t even notice it anymore. That was until it started hurting.

I tried all the obvious fixes: physical therapy, massage, stretching routines, and endless medical appointments. They’d help for a day or two, but the tightness always came back. The pain wasn’t in the muscles. It was in the message my body kept replaying: don’t relax, it’s not safe yet.

It wasn’t until I started therapy that I began to understand what was happening. Therapy helped me put words to my anxiety and learn why my nervous system was still operating like I was in a warzone. But even then, words could only take me so far. I understood why I felt this way. I just didn’t know how to release it.

The Armor We Wear:

Control had become my armor. It kept me from falling apart, but it also kept me from feeling alive. Underneath it lived fear, and the parts of myself I’d buried under discipline and responsibility. When I wasn’t on guard, I didn’t feel safe — I felt exposed.

The truth is, control is brilliant short-term survival. It gives structure to chaos. It gives pain direction. But when the body doesn’t get the message that the danger is over, that same control becomes a trap. The nervous system stays locked in hyper-arousal, ready for something that never comes.

Over time, that state burns the body out. It dulls joy, creativity, connection, and everything that makes life feel full.

Finding Relief Through Rhythm:

Music and movement became the first things that reached me where words couldn’t. When I started mixing again, I noticed something shift. The bass was grounding. The repetition gave my system something predictable to hold onto. Each drop, each rhythm, felt like my body could finally exhale.

In the space of sound and movement, I could let go safely. No one was asking questions. No one was watching for cracks. My nervous system could practice release instead of control.

Over time, the music slowly, quietly, but undeniably, taught me how to feel again.

The Science Behind the Shift:

Neuroscience supports this notion. Studies show that rhythm and vibration directly influence the vagus nerve — the body’s primary pathway for calming the stress response (1). Movement activates motor and emotional networks, helping discharge “stuck” energy that talk therapy can’t always reach (2).

In trauma, the body stores activation that never got to finish. Through rhythmic, predictable movement, like dancing, walking, or even nodding along to a beat, the nervous system learns that it’s safe enough to soften (3). That’s how healing happens. The mind needs a safe body/foundation to shift.

Loosening Up:

Letting go of control doesn’t mean abandoning discipline or self-respect. It means learning to tell the difference between protection and tension. You can still be focused and strong, just not at war with yourself.

Small steps help:

• Moving to one song at the end of a hard day.

• Breathing intentionally before reacting.

• Allowing yourself to be held by rhythm instead of resisting it.

Each moment of softness is a signal to your nervous system. It tells you, “You’re safe now.”

Closing Thoughts:

Control once saved me. But healing began when I learned how to loosen the grip.
The armor doesn’t have to be thrown away; it just doesn’t need to be worn every day. Music and movement gave me a way back into my body. It gave me a place where safety, strength, and softness could finally coexist.

References:

1.     Porges SW. The Pocket Guide to the Polyvagal Theory: The Transformative Power of Feeling Safe. New York: W.W. Norton & Co; 2017.

2.     van der Kolk BA. The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. New York: Viking; 2014.

3.     Koch SC, Riege R, Tisborn K, Biondo J, Martin L, Beelmann A. Effects of dance movement therapy and dance on health-related psychological outcomes: A meta-analysis. Arts Psychother. 2019;63:118–27.

4.     Levine PA. In an Unspoken Voice: How the Body Releases Trauma and Restores Goodness. Berkeley: North Atlantic Books; 2010.