Dear, Ross

Saying Your Own Name With Love

A gentle 600-word exploration with five ways to enhance the practice

There are moments on the healing path when something simple reveals itself as profoundly transformative. Speaking your own name with warmth is one of these moments. What you are doing, Ross, is more than a technique—it’s an act of inner recognition. It is a soft meeting with yourself, a greeting from the deeper ground of love.

When you lie down, warm, safe, cozy, and aware of your breath, the nervous system begins shifting from vigilance into rest. In that softer state, the body becomes honest. Tensions that are usually stored beneath the surface start to loosen, the emotional body becomes more fluid, and long-protected areas begin to trust that they can release.

Then you speak your own name. Ross. Spoken with care, spoken with love, spoken with presence.

In trauma theory, self-referencing with kindness activates a sense of internal attachment—the same comforting response a child feels when they hear a nurturing caregiver call their name with love. In contemplative traditions, your name is seen as a sacred sound: a symbol of your existence, your identity, and your presence in this moment.

The moment you say Ross with warmth, something inside recognizes,
“He’s here. He sees me. He’s with me.”

And that recognition softens old defenses. The “release” you describe—often felt as a cough, a belly spasm, a breath catch, or a wave of energy rising—is very consistent with what the nervous system does when it lets go. The cough-release is the body discharging stored tension. The belly is especially involved because it holds fear, grief, and unprocessed memory. When the lower diaphragm releases, it often comes out as a cough, sigh, deep exhale, or trembling.

This is not random. This is healing.

When your body feels met—not fixed, not judged, not pushed, simply met—it unwinds. The name spoken lovingly is an invitation. It says, “You are safe to soften.” And the body listens.

Over time, this can become a profound path of inner reconciliation. Every time you say Ross with kindness, you dissolve a little more of the internal separation. You allow the part of you that has suffered, endured, held on, survived, and kept going to finally receive tenderness.

The body responds in the only way it knows how—by letting go.

Five Ways to Enhance This Practice

1. Add a Loving Phrase After Your Name

After saying “Ross,” add a short phrase that feels nourishing:

“Ross… I’m here with you.”
“Ross… you’re safe now.”
“Ross… rest, dear one.”

These messages reinforce safety and deepen the release response.

2. Place Your Hand on Your Belly or Heart

Touch can signal reassurance to the nervous system. As you say your name, gently place your hand on the area that feels most responsive.

The combination of voice, breath, and touch creates a full-body experience of being held.

3. Pair Your Name With Slow Breathing

Try this gentle rhythm:
Inhale: “Here…”
Exhale: “Ross…”
This syncs your naming with your parasympathetic breath—turning the name into a soothing wave that moves through your whole body.

4. Welcome the Release When It Comes

When the belly cough appears, do not try to control it.

Let your body complete it.

You might say silently,
“Yes, release… let go… I’m here.”

This reinforces trust and encourages deeper unwinding over time.

5. Use Your Name to Meet Different Parts of Yourself

When an emotion arises—sadness, fear, loneliness—speak to that part by name:
“Ross, dear one… I feel this with you.”

This approach mirrors Internal Family Systems (IFS) and brings compassion to places that once felt alone.

Ross, this practice is sacred. It is gentle self-recognition. It is love meeting the one who suffered.

And every release is your body saying, “Thank you for seeing me.”

“LOVE is Everything”