Healing, a journey.

Healing is a path walked with bare feet, each step sinking into the heartbeat of the earth, grounding us as we face the raw truth of who we are. It’s not always gentle. It requires us to pause, to breathe deeply into the toroidal field that holds us, and to meet ourselves with open eyes and an open heart.  

This journey is one of deep reckoning. We must face not only the ways we have been hurt but also the ways we have caused harm—knowingly or unknowingly. It’s a call to accountability, asking us to look at the moments we abandoned ourselves and the ripple effects of that disconnection. It’s also a call to see those who have hurt us through the lens of compassion, which requires a courage that is nothing short of monumental.  

For me, this journey has meant peeling back layer after layer of stories and patterns that kept me bound. Gossip, judgment, perfectionism, people-pleasing, victimhood, lying, love bombing, finding strange comfort in chaos—all of it. At times, I felt like I was standing in quicksand, overwhelmed by the weight of what I was carrying.  

So many of us walk through life carrying stories we never chose but somehow agreed to, as if they were written into our bones before we knew we had a say. Stories like “I am less important,” “I am a liar,” “I am drawn to chaos.” Stories that whisper, “No one wants to see or hear me,” or “I am powerless, less than, unworthy.” These agreements sink deep into our subconscious, shaping how we see ourselves and the world around us. And yet, they are not truths—they are echoes of moments when we felt small, misunderstood, or unsafe. We didn’t know we could question them, rewrite them, or refuse to carry them. But healing invites us to do just that. It asks us to hold these stories in our hands, examine them, and decide which ones we’re ready to set down. It’s in this unbinding that we begin to remember who we truly are—whole, worthy, and infinitely powerful. 

I’ve had to face the ways I reacted when I felt hurt or angry. Instead of speaking honestly with the person I was upset with, I would drown them in love bombs, asking over and over, “Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?” My anger and resentment stayed locked inside, festering beneath layers of guilt for even feeling those emotions in the first place. I couldn’t face the truth of my feelings, so I buried them, only for them to rise later as resentment.  

There were times I sought validation from others, recruiting witnesses to my “innocence,” spinning small lies—or bigger ones—to gain their sympathy. The deeper truth beneath it all was this: I hated myself. I hated the ways I wasn’t aligned with my own truth. And everything I refused to face within myself, I projected outward.  

I’ve had to sit with myself in the rawest, most uncomfortable moments, offering love to the parts of me that were hard to look at. I’ve had to gently unpack why I was judging—why I couldn’t be impeccable with my words—and hold compassion for the lies I’d told, understanding the pain and fear beneath them. I’ve had to love myself through seeing how I gossiped, sharing words that never had a place in someone else’s field, and recognize the harm it caused. Each pattern I unraveled—each thread woven from unresolved emotions—required patience and grace as I began creating new pathways, ones rooted in clarity and integrity. This work wasn’t done in isolation; I needed guidance and support to navigate the terrain. But through it all, I’ve learned that loving myself in these spaces isn’t just possible—it’s transformative. It’s the foundation for the person I've become and the person I am becoming.

Healing isn’t linear. It’s cyclical, a spiral that takes us deeper each time. It’s the practice of witnessing ourselves honestly, forgiving what we find, and choosing differently over and over again. It’s the unlearning of stories that no longer serve us and the reclamation of the wholeness that was always ours.  

This journey has taught me that true courage isn’t about being fearless. It’s about feeling every ounce of fear, shame, or discomfort and choosing to show up anyway. It’s about holding space for our shadows and standing steady as they integrate into the light. And it’s about recognizing that our healing ripples outward, like the toroidal field of the earth herself, touching everything and everyone around us.  

This work—this path—is sacred. It’s messy and beautiful and raw. And it’s worth every step. Roomy, spacious, expansive and freeing. May all beings have the courage to heal.