“Wounds are where light enters you.” ~ Rumi
In 2011, my world collapsed. My mother passed away, and with her, the fragile scaffolding kept my life together. It’s not just sadness. It seems like her death I have been in pain for many years.
Looking back, I can see that I live with the complex PTSD (CPTSD), although I had no language at the time. CPTSD is usually a disease caused by prolonged exposure to trauma, leaving deep emotional scars. It manifests as a persistent state of over-maintenance, emotional numbness and difficulty in forming healthy relationships.
All I know is that my inner world is in a state of chaos, and the external world will soon follow. Sadness triggers various emotions that I can’t control or understand.
In the months after her death, I fully revealed it. I avoid pain with a crazy attempt. I pushed people away, made a reckless decision, and sank a seemingly bottomless despair.
I live in what some people call “night of the soul”, which is a time of profound spiritual and emotional crisis. At the time, it felt like I was losing everything, but in hindsight, it was the beginning of something deeper. This became a journey into the heart of my identity and estimated my pain for so long.
Find the source of pain
When I finally seek treatment, I began to understand the source of pain. When I grew up, my relationship with my mother was very complicated. She may be harsh and does not show any emotion or love. I can’t remember words of hugging or comforting, as a kid, it made me feel invisible and unworthy.
When I was in my twenties, everything started to change and my mother was diagnosed with cancer. It seemed like the disease softened her, and it was the first time I began to see the other side of her. She became a great grandmother. She is gentle, patient and loving in a way I never experienced when I was a kid.
When my mother passed, I was overwhelmed by the tide waves, which felt so much about the relationship we shared. Even a friend was talking about it, putting me in chaos and inward gui.
But my therapist offers a perspective that changes everything. This kind of sadness is not just about losing my mother. Essentially, it’s a primitive mourning for a life-unmet need: love, security, and connection that I longed for as a kid but never received. It was the pain of realizing that the door is closed forever now.
In some ways, CPTSD diagnosis is a relief. It gave me a framework for the overmaintenance, emotional flashbacks and profound sense of unworthiness that I have been bringing for so long.
But understanding is not enough. Despite the insight therapy given to me, I still felt pain trapped. It’s like standing on the edge of a huge gap and seeing the life I want on the other side, but not knowing how to get over it.
That was when I met my yoga master, and a person’s wisdom became a bridge of healing. Through his teachings, I learned to hold my past with compassion, forgive where I can be, and think that I deserve love and peace.
First lesson:
Working with my teacher, I desperately hope for relief. I wanted him to give me a roadmap, which is a step-by-step plan to solve the problem of breaking. Instead, he gave me something simpler and more challenging.
“Yes,” he said in our first sessions. “only.”
At first, I didn’t understand what he meant. What is it? what to do? I’m used to working hard, fixing, and doing. Frankly, simply feeling stranger.
But he was very patient. He encouraged me to sit with myself and notice my breathing, my body, my mind and emotions without changing anything. In those early days, this practice was unbearable.
My thoughts are whirlwinds of inner gui, shame and sadness. Sitting still feels like sitting in the middle of a storm. But slowly, I began to notice something. Under the chaos, there is a quiet silence. There is no existence sweeping in the storm.
I first began to glimpse the part defined by my own pain.
Lesson 2: With
My teacher would say, “Be with what comes.” “Don’t push it away. Don’t stick with it. Get along with it.”
For me, this is perhaps the hardest lesson. My instinct is to avoid pain – distract yourself or feel numb.
But my teacher gently guided me to do the opposite. He encouraged me to satisfy my emotions with curiosity rather than resistance. One day, I told him, “I can’t stop feeling sad. It’s like swallowing my wholeness.”
He nodded and said, “Then stay connected with the grief. Sit down. Let it show you what it needs to show you.” So I did. I sat with sadness, anger, and fear. I no longer try to fix them or let them go.
As I did, I began to notice something profound: emotions are not as overwhelming as I feared. They surfaced like waves and when I stopped resisting them, they began to lose control of me. I realized that my pain was not caused by the emotions themselves, but my resistance to them.
By being with them, I allow them to go through me, rather than staying inside me.
Lesson 3: Let it be
The last lesson my teacher gave me was perhaps the easiest and most profound: “Let it be.” This did not give up or quit. This is acceptance.
Not in the sense of liking or approving what happens, but in the sense of allowing life to unfold without having to stick to my ideas.
One day, during a particularly difficult meditation, I found myself filled with mother’s memories. Sadness is overwhelming and I want to push it away. But my teacher’s words echoed in my mind: “Let it be.”
So I did it. I let the memory come, sadness rushed towards me, tears fell. Then, as the waves pass, the waves pass. Instead, there is a quiet silence, a sense of peace that I have not felt for years.
Letting this doesn’t mean I stop feeling sad or sad. This means I stop fighting them. I no longer insist on the idea of “healing” or “fixing” to be complete.
I began to believe that I could leave room for my pain without being consumed by it.
Freedom of letting go
Through these lessons, whether it is with it, I begin to experience freedom that I never thought of. I realized I wasn’t my pain. I’m not my past. I am all this consciousness.
Recovery is not about eliminating my trauma. It’s about integrating it and peace with it. I no longer need to be defined by the pain of the past.
Lessons for you
If you are experiencing a similar storm, here are some insights that help me:
- exist: First, simply be with yourself. Pay attention to your breathing, body, and emotions, without judgment.
- Getting along with things that appear: Let your emotions surface without trying to fix or change them. Meet them curiously.
- let it be: Accept life. Don’t fight it. Let things unfold without trying to control them.
- Believe in the process: Rehabilitation is not a quick solution. Be patient and know that the timely storm will pass.
The dark night of the soul is not over to me. This is the beginning of a deeper level.
If you are in your own crisis, remember that you are not in pain. You are the huge sky with everything. In that sky, there is a peace, and there is no storm to take away.
About Kathy Degan
Kathy Degen is a holistic lifestyle blogger with over 30 years of health care. She combines yoga philosophy, Vedic astrology and modern rehabilitation practices to help women over 50 find consistency and inner peace. Through her blog, Pause and move forwardshe shares insights and research to inspire new purpose life. When she is not writing, Kathy practices yoga, studies Vedic astrology, and helps women rediscover their sparks.
