There is a quiet grief that comes with growth not the loud, dramatic kind, but the soft ache of noticing who no longer walks beside you.
As you evolve, some people fall away. Not because you failed. Not because they were wrong or you were unworthy. But because the version of you that once fit into their world no longer exists.
Growth is an unfolding. A shedding, A remembering, And not everyone is aligned with the truth you are becoming.
We often believe loss means rejection. Spiritually, it is more accurate to say misalignment. When your values deepen, your boundaries strengthen, and your inner compass grows clearer, relationships based on comfort, control, familiarity, or unhealed wounds begin to strain. They cannot expand with you not because they don’t care, but because expansion requires willingness, not proximity.
Some people loved the version of you that was quieter, more accommodating, more self-sacrificing. Some benefited from your silence, your over-giving, your self-doubt.
When you begin to stand in your truth, their reflection of you shatters and that can feel threatening.
So they leave. Or you do. Or the connection fades without a clear ending.
This is not abandonment.
This is alignment correcting itself.
Spiritually, every relationship serves a purpose: some to anchor us, some to teach us, some to awaken us and some to release us. The ones who cannot meet you at your new frequency were never meant to walk the rest of the path with you. They were chapters, not the entire story.
And here is the deeper truth:
You are not losing people you are outgrowing versions of yourself.
As you unfold into who you were always meant to be, the universe gently removes what no longer resonates. What remains will feel quieter, truer, more spacious. You will be met with fewer people, but deeper connections. Less noise, more meaning. Less proving, more being.
Let them go without bitterness.
Bless them without guilt.
Honor what was without shrinking who you are becoming.
Because those aligned with your becoming will never require you to betray yourself to keep them.
When You Hit the Wall, Look for the Window
There comes a moment in every life when the path forward disappears. You try harder. You pray deeper. You wait longer. And still the wall stands.
We are taught to see walls as failures, punishments, or signs that something has gone wrong. But spiritually, a wall is often a pause created by life itself not to stop us, but to redirect us.
Walls appear when the soul has outgrown the route it was taking. When you hit a wall, it is rarely an ending. It is an invitation to shift perception.
A wall blocks force, but a window responds to awareness.
Most of us exhaust ourselves trying to break through walls proving, explaining, fixing, surviving. Yet walls are not meant to be broken; they are meant to be noticed. And once noticed, something softer, quieter, and more subtle becomes visible.
A window. The window doesn’t demand effort.
It asks for presence.
It opens when resistance ends.
Spiritually, the window represents a higher intelligence at work, the kind that whispers instead of shouts. It shows up as acceptance, surrender, or a sudden insight that says: “This is not the way anymore.”
Sometimes the window looks like letting go.
Sometimes it looks like rest.
Sometimes it looks like walking away without answers.
Sometimes it looks like choosing peace over persistence.
The ego wants to win against the wall.
The soul wants to transcend it.
When we stop asking, “Why is this happening to me?” and start asking, “What is this asking of me?” the window slowly reveals itself.
And often, the view from that window shows us something we could never have seen from the road we were forcing ourselves to stay on.
A new horizon.
A different version of ourselves.
A quieter strength.
So if you’re standing in front of a wall right now, tired and disheartened, pause.
Breathe.
Soften your gaze.
You are not blocked, you are being guided.
And when you stop fighting the wall,
you may finally notice the light coming through the window that was always there.
Why Women Stop Talking—and Start Walking Away
Some men don’t hear disagreement as dialogue they hear it as defiance.
Some don’t hear honesty as truth they hear it as accusation.
And when accountability feels threatening, even sincerity is mistaken for attack.
So she grows quiet.
Not because she lacks depth.
Not because she stopped caring.
But because she is tired of defending her emotions every time she speaks from her heart.
A woman doesn’t withdraw overnight.
She withdraws after being unheard too many times.
After being unseen too often.
After being told directly or subtly that her feelings are “too much,” “wrong,” or “the problem.”
Remember this:
A woman who feels unheard eventually stops explaining.
A woman who feels invisible eventually stops showing up.
A woman who is blamed for her emotions eventually chooses herself.
Silence, in this context, is not submission it is self-protection. Walking away is not failure it is clarity.
Choose peace over performance.
Choose safety over survival.
Choose a partner who listens, not just waits to respond.
When the Heart Speaks, Logic Must Wait
Stop bringing logic into an emotional arguments
Rebecca Yarros
There are moments in life when logic is perfectly sound, facts are accurate, and solutions are readily available, yet none of them land. Not because they are wrong, but because they arrive too soon. When someone is deeply emotional, they are not seeking answers; they are seeking understanding. They want their inner world to be seen, their pain to be acknowledged, their experience to be honoured. In those moments, logic however correct, can feel cold, distant, even dismissive.
This quote gently reminds us that emotions do not follow rules or timelines. They arise from the heart, not the intellect. When we meet emotion with explanation instead of empathy, we unintentionally create distance. The soul does not open in response to solutions; it opens in response to presence. To sit with someone’s feelings without fixing, correcting, or advising is a sacred act it says, “You matter enough for me to be here with you.”
From a spiritual lens, emotions are not obstacles to be managed; they are messengers asking to be heard. Every feeling carries information about unmet needs, old wounds, or tender truths waiting for compassion. When we allow emotions to breathe without judgment, they naturally soften. Only then does logic find a welcoming ground. Wisdom is not about choosing between heart and mind; it is about sequence the heart first, the mind later.
This is true not only in how we relate to others, but also in how we treat ourselves. When we rush to “be strong,” “stay positive,” or “make sense of it,” we bypass our own humanity. Self-compassion begins when we stop arguing with our feelings and start listening to them. Once emotions feel safe, clarity follows effortlessly.
In essence, empathy is not the absence of logic it is the doorway to it. When feelings are heard and respected, logic no longer feels like an attack; it feels like guidance. And that is where true healing begins: not in being right, but in being present.
Psychological resilience: Why getting better at feeling bad builds Emotional Strength
Psychological resilience isn’t developed through constant positivity or feeling good all the time; rather, it emerges from learning how to navigate and endure discomfort, challenges, and negative emotions. Resilience is about getting better at feeling bad, facing stress, fear, disappointment, or failure and still finding ways to move forward.
When we embrace discomfort, we develop the capacity to process difficult emotions, learning that they are temporary and manageable. This approach helps us build emotional endurance, much like strengthening muscles through physical exercise. It’s in the struggle, in the moments of doubt and pain, where resilience is truly forged.
Over time, getting comfortable with discomfort allows us to bounce back more quickly from setbacks. We grow mentally stronger not by avoiding hardship, but by developing the skills to cope, adapt, and keep going despite the challenges. In this way, psychological resilience is less about feeling good and more about being equipped to handle when things feel bad.
Motherhood-A journey worth honouring
On 22 December 1994, my life changed forever.
That was the day I became a mother for the first time.
I did not just give birth to my firstborn that day
I gave birth to a new version of myself.
Before that moment, life was about plans, expectations, and identities shaped by the world around me. After that moment, life became about responsibility, surrender, love, fear, courage, and growth all woven together into one lifelong journey called motherhood.
Motherhood has never been a straight line.
It has been ups and downs, strength and exhaustion, certainty and doubt. There were days filled with joy so deep it felt overwhelming, and days where I questioned myself quietly in the dark, wondering if I was doing enough, being enough, loving enough.
And yet I stayed.
I learned.
I evolved.
Motherhood taught me patience when I had none. It softened parts of me that were rigid and strengthened parts of me I never knew existed. It changed my perspective on time, priorities, relationships, and even pain. What once mattered deeply slowly lost its importance, and what truly mattered rose gently to the surface.
This journey demanded more than sacrifice it demanded presence.
Presence in moments of chaos.
Presence in moments of silence.
Presence even when I was tired, misunderstood, or unseen.
Looking back, I see that motherhood didn’t just shape my three beautiful and amazing girls,
it shaped my soul.
So yes, I believe I deserve to celebrate this day.
Not as a birthday.
Not as an achievement measured by perfection.
But as a milestone of transformation the day my heart expanded beyond itself, the day my life gained depth, meaning, and a new lens through which I would see the world forever.
Today, I honour the woman I was then, learning, adapting, loving for the first time in this role.
I honour the woman I became resilient, reflective, and still growing.
And I honour the journey itself, imperfect, demanding, beautiful, and sacred.
Motherhood did not make my life easier.
It made it truer.
And for that this day will always matter.
Awareness Over War: Healing the Ego Through Presence
A spiritual–psychological reflection inspired by Eckhart Tolle
One of the most liberating insights in both psychology and spirituality is this: what we resist, persists. Eckhart Tolle captures this truth with profound simplicity when he reminds us that fighting the ego does not dissolve it, infact strengthens it. The ego thrives on conflict. The moment we declare war on it, we give it an identity, a role, and an opponent.
From a psychological perspective, the ego is not an enemy. It is a survival structure, accumulation of conditioned thoughts, beliefs, and emotional responses formed through past experiences. It develops to protect us, to predict outcomes, and to create a sense of control. The problem is not its existence; the problem is unconscious identification with it.
From a spiritual perspective, the ego is the false self, an identity rooted in time, memory, and expectation rather than presence. When we believe we are our thoughts, we lose access to the deeper awareness that observes them.
Tolle’s example of waking up to a gray, rainy morning illustrates this beautifully.
The mind immediately labels:
“What a miserable day.”
Psychologically, this is automatic negative appraisal, a learned mental shortcut. The brain associates certain stimuli (rain, gray skies) with inconvenience or discomfort and quickly assigns meaning. The body then responds with emotional signals: heaviness, dread, disappointment. This is not reality, it is interpretation.
Spiritually, this moment reveals how the ego imposes a story onto the present moment. The rain itself is neutral. The sky has no intention to make us unhappy. Suffering begins only when the mind insists that reality should be different.
The turning point comes with awareness.
The moment we notice the judgment “Ah, this is a thought, not a fact” space is created. In psychology, this is known as decentering: the ability to observe thoughts rather than merge with them. In spirituality, it is presence, the awakening of the witness.
You look again.
Not through memory.
Not through habit.
But through awareness.
You simply see: Gray sky.
Soft light.
Raindrops falling.
And something shifts.
The emotional charge dissolves, not because the weather changed, but because identification with the thought ended. This is the intersection where psychology meets spirituality: suffering reduces when perception becomes conscious.
In therapeutic work, this is a foundational principle. Many clients do not suffer because of what happened, but because of the meaning they unconsciously assigned to it often years ago, often as a child. The nervous system reacts in the present as if the old story is still true.
Spiritually, this is the ego replaying its conditioned identity. Psychologically, it is an unexamined belief loop.
Healing does not require fighting these thoughts. It requires seeing them.
When we stop labeling experiences as good or bad, success or failure, desirable or unacceptable, we return to reality as it is. Acceptance here does not mean passivity, it means clarity without resistance.
Eckhart Tolle teaches us that freedom arises not from controlling life, but from no longer imposing our unconscious judgments upon it.
This applies far beyond the weather:
To relationships that didn’t unfold as expected
To life paths that look different from the plan
To emotions we label as weakness or failure
Every time we say “This shouldn’t be happening”, the ego tightens its grip. Every time we allow “This is what is here right now”, the nervous system softens.
Psychologically, acceptance calms the stress response.
Spiritually, acceptance dissolves separation from the present moment.
And in that meeting point, where awareness replaces resistance, freedom quietly emerges.
You are no longer fighting yourself.
You are no longer fighting life.
You are simply here.
And that is where healing begins.
When we disconnect from our roots, we disconnect from ourselves.
From a psychological perspective, a child’s relationship with their parents forms the first emotional blueprint of safety, belonging, and identity. When that bond becomes fractured through blame or emotional disconnection, the nervous system often remains in a state of unrest. The mind searches for answers, the heart carries unresolved conflict, and the body holds tension that has no clear outlet. Over time, this inner split can show up as anxiety, confusion, or a persistent sense of being lost.
From a spiritual perspective, parents are not just caregivers they are the channel through which life itself flows. Regardless of human imperfections, this life force connection remains. When a person rejects or resists their origin, they unconsciously resist parts of themselves. This inner resistance disrupts emotional harmony and blocks the natural flow of peace, grounding, and vitality.
Healing does not mean excusing hurt or denying pain. It means acknowledging reality as it is honoring where life came from while choosing one’s own path with awareness. When blame softens into understanding, and resistance turns into acceptance, the mind settles, the body relaxes, and the soul finds stability.
True healing begins when we stop fighting our roots and instead learn how to stand on them consciously, compassionately, and freely.
When the Heart Carries Too Much
A reflection on my Heart Chakra and the life that shaped it
There was never anything wrong with my heart.
It was never weak, broken, or naïve.
It was simply open.
From a very young age, I learned to love deeply, to hold space, to understand others even when I was not understood. My heart became a place of safety for everyone else, a listening room, a refuge, a container for emotions that others did not want to carry.
In chakra language, this is the Heart Chakra (Anahata) the centre of love, compassion, connection, and emotional balance. But what is often not spoken about is that an open heart, without support, becomes an overworked heart.
My life shaped my heart chakra not through one single wound, but through years of showing up without being met.
I loved without conditions.
I supported without keeping score.
I stayed when leaving would have protected me.
And slowly, without realising it, my heart learned that love meant endurance.
The heaviness I feel in my heart today is not bitterness. It is unexpressed grief, grief for the parts of me that kept loving even when love was not returned with respect. Grief for the emotional labour I carried silently. Grief for the times I chose peace over truth, hoping harmony would arrive on its own.
In many spiritual spaces, a “heavy heart” is seen as a blockage. I no longer see it that way.
A heavy heart can also mean a deeply experienced one.
My heart chakra did not close after betrayal, abandonment, or misunderstanding. It stayed open, perhaps too open absorbing pain that was never meant to live there. And yet, it did not turn cold. That is not weakness. That is resilience.
What my heart is learning now is a new language: Boundaries are not the opposite of love. They are how love survives.
I am learning that I can be compassionate without carrying. That I can forgive without reconciling. That I can love without self-erasure. The heart does not need to be hardened to be protected, it needs to be respected, especially by the one who lives inside it.
Today, my heart chakra is not asking to be healed. It is asking to be relieved.
Relieved from the belief that it must hold everything together.
Relieved from the role of being the emotional anchor for everyone else.
Relieved from the responsibility of proving its worth through sacrifice.
As I sit with my heart now, I no longer ask, “Why did this happen to me?”
I ask, “What is my heart ready to put down?”
And the answer is gentle and clear:
I am allowed to love myself with the same devotion I once gave away freely.
My Closing Reflection
An open heart is a gift.
A protected heart is wisdom.
A balanced heart is freedom.
And I am learning slowly, compassionately, how to hold all three.
We All Carry a Mirror: Understanding the Narcissist Within
Narcissism is often spoken about in extremes. We picture someone grandiose, manipulative, emotionally cold, the narcissist. But the truth is far more nuanced, and far more human.
We are all narcissistic to some degree.
Some more. Some less. And that does not make us broken, it makes us human.
At its core, narcissism is not about cruelty.
It is about self-preservation.
From the moment we are born, we need attention to survive. A baby cries because it must. That cry says, “See me. Hear me. I matter.” Healthy narcissism begins here, it is the foundation of self-worth, identity, and the sense that one’s existence has value.
Problems arise not from having narcissistic traits, but from being stuck in them.
Healthy Narcissism vs. Wounded Narcissism
Healthy narcissism looks like:
Having boundaries
Valuing yourself
Taking pride in your work
Wanting to be seen and acknowledged
Protecting your emotional space
This is self-respect.
Unhealthy or wounded narcissism develops when early emotional needs were unmet, dismissed, or shamed. The child learns:
I must perform to be loved
I must dominate to feel safe
I must blame to avoid shame
I must be right to feel worthy
What looks like arrogance is often unprocessed insecurity.
What looks like entitlement is often fear of insignificance.
What looks like lack of empathy is often emotional overwhelm and dissociation.
Why Some Have More Narcissistic Defences Than Others:
Some people learned that vulnerability was unsafe.
Some learned love was conditional.
Some learned they were only valued for what they provided.
So they built armour.
The louder the ego, the deeper the wound beneath it.
And yet, society tends to divide people into victims and villains, forgetting that most harmful behaviours come from unhealed pain, not conscious malice.
This does not excuse harm, but it helps us understand it.
The Real Difference That Matters
The real divide is not between narcissists and non-narcissists.
It is between:
Those who can self-reflect
And those who cannot tolerate accountability
Growth begins the moment a person can say:
“I may have hurt someone. Let me look at that.”
Healing begins when ego loosens its grip and awareness steps in.
A Gentle Reflection for All of Us
We all want to be seen.
We all want to feel special to someone.
We all want our pain to be acknowledged.
The work is not to eliminate the ego, but to befriend it, soften it, and stop letting it lead our relationships.
Because when awareness grows, narcissism transforms into self-compassion, and self-compassion naturally expands into empathy for others.
And that is where real emotional maturity lives.
Reflection Question
Where in your life are you protecting yourself and where are you willing to soften?
SELF LOVE AND SOUL HEALING 