The Body Keeps the Score

They say, “Black don’t crack.” However, for about the last year of my mom’s life, I watched her body rapidly age. I remember seeing her body before her funeral and thinking how much more alive she appeared lying dead in her casket than she did during her final year of life. She was only 54 years old when she passed away.

She was 54 years old when she suddenly went into cardiac arrest. 54 years old when my sister and I had to make the impossible decision to remove her from life support after speaking with the neurologist and being told that if she survived, she would be a vegetable due to little to no brain activity. She was 54 years old when neuropathy took away the one thing she could still control—movement. My mother loved to walk, and having never learned to drive, she walked everywhere. Still, she was 54 years old and wheelchair bound.

She was 54 years old when she desperately demanded that “we” take care of her, and 54 years old when I told her that she needed to will herself to live. And she was technically still 54 years old when she passed away and we later found bags of unopened medication that she had been prescribed but was not taking. She was 54 years old when she gave up on life—or maybe life gave up on her.

Recently, I had an honest conversation with a friend who may be facing divorce, about a picture she shared with me. Hesitantly, I admitted that one of my first thoughts after seeing it was, “My friend looks older than she actually is”, and she’s not even fifty yet. What followed was the statement that inspired this reflection. I said, “When we continue to pour from empty vessels, we end up dehydrated. And that dehydration leads to premature aging.”

Is that true, you may be wondering. And my response... KEEP READING!

“Pouring from empty” is not just a catchy phrase. It describes chronic self-neglect—a slow erosion that often disguises itself as strength, love, or duty. It looks like emotional labor without replenishment. Caregiving without rest. People-pleasing without boundaries. It is the constant giving of oneself with no space to receive, restore, or be.

When a woman lives in that state long-term, she experiences emotional dehydration. It shows up as exhaustion that sleep does not fix. Irritability that feels foreign to her true nature. Numbness where joy used to live. A quiet loss of vitality and softness. And yes, it ages her.

Not metaphorically. Visibly.

It settles into posture. Into facial tension. Into the dullness of the eyes. People often say, “She looks tired,” as if it is a casual observation. But it is not accidental. It is the body telling the truth long before the mouth ever does.

Biologically, the connection is indirect, but it is real.

Chronic depletion almost always leads to chronic stress. Pouring from an empty is rarely a one-time event; it is a pattern. And that pattern keeps the body in a constant state of survival. Ongoing stress elevates cortisol, disrupts sleep, fuels inflammation, and destabilizes hormones—especially in women.

Over time, chronic stress contributes to premature aging by breaking down collagen and elastin, accelerating oxidative stress, and worsening behaviors associated with dehydration, such as skipping meals, ignoring thirst, and choosing survival over nourishment.

So, while emotional depletion does not literally drain water from your cells, it creates conditions that mimic and worsen physical dehydration and aging.

And then there is literal dehydration...

True physical dehydration does age the body. It makes skin appear dull, crepey, and less elastic. It deepens fine lines. It increases fatigue and headaches. Women who are emotionally depleted often override bodily cues, because they have learned—consciously or unconsciously—that everyone else’s needs come first. This is how the metaphor becomes literal over time.

When women continually pour from empty, the systems they are pouring from begin to deteriorate. Chronic self-depletion accelerates emotional, hormonal, and physical aging.

The bottom line is this: while emotional depletion does not cause literal dehydration, the connection is emotionally real, psychologically sound, and biologically supported. And the outcome is premature aging, diminished vitality, and eventual breakdown which becomes undeniable. And this is why rest, boundaries, and replenishment are not luxuries for women. They are not indulgences or rewards. They are preservation.

Call to Action

Let this be the moment you stop normalizing depletion. If you recognize yourself in these words, take them seriously. Revisit your boundaries. Re-evaluate who has access to your energy. Drink the water. Take a break. Say “No” without justification. You do not need to earn rest, nor do you need permission to preserve yourself. Your vitality is not optional, it is sacred.

I Love You too Life!