Listening to My Inner Waters / Healing led by my Soul

The past week and this week were intense. Really intense.

I received answers I had been longing for, for more than ten years. And ten years is a big part of a lifetime. I don’t even want to look at the exact number right now. It holds too much — physical pain, emotional pain, being labeled as too sensitive, overthinking, over-worrying, over-anxious. Being told that nothing is wrong with you. Being told to grown up and move on.

But I couldn’t move on.

I couldn’t move on because the physical and emotional pain was too strong. Sometimes my legs literally wouldn’t move. My symptoms shrank my life into a very small world. I still had a world, but it became so limited — what I could eat, where I could go, how long I could stand, what I could tolerate. There were days when I could open only one eye, actually it was months... Days when brushing my teeth felt impossible because there was no strengt left in my arms.

And still, my lab results said everything was normal.

But I felt like I was dying.

It is terrifying to be cut off from the outside world, lying in bed with constant thoughts and incredible pain in your body, and being told that nothing is wrong. It is lonely and scary in a way that is hard to explain.

But my soul didn’t give up. I kept searching. And that searching expanded me — not outward at first, but inward. Into my inner world. Into landscapes I didn’t know I carried. Into trauma work, nervous system work, fascia, inner waters. I learned to move inside myself. I learned to sit with my freeze, my fawn, my dissociation, I learned to regulate with myself. I learned to breathe.. and I am still learning.

But something was still missing.

As my inner waters were waking up, learning to swim, learning to enjoy the waves, my physical body was struggling more than ever. Nothing made sense. I was doing the trauma work. The nervous system work. The spiritual work. And still I couldn’t get out of bed.

I asked God what He was teaching me. Because I don’t believe God tries to punish us. I believe there is meaning. I needed to know what this was.

The answer came: it is time to learn to love yourself.

And as someone who learned to take care of everyone else first, it made sense. I was mothering others, but I had never learned how to mother myself. My body demanded it. Not gently this time, but with only one eye open.

Now I believe the healing comes from unity: pshysical, emotional, mental, spiritual, chemical -divine coherence. Where all parts come into one unique alignment. When they stop fighting each other and start moving together. 

I believe that if we deeply learn to listen to our inner waters and trust them, that coherence comes naturally. But many of us were never taught how to listen. Some of us were blamed when we did. When we said, “this doesn’t feel right,” or “this hurts,” or “I need something different.” So we learned to override ourselves.

My inner guidance began to lead me toward something simple and radical: take care of your body first. Learn pacing. Learn the tools. Slow down. Accept the terrified part inside me who wants to fix everything fast. The part who rushes. The part who still labels my sensitivity or even my unique physical needs as something bad, shameful, not human.

When I write these words, they come easily. But that protective part is so strong. She believes that if she doesn’t fix everything quickly, she will be abandoned. She will not belong. I am thankful for her because she kept me alive. But sometimes she takes the ruling spot. And I am still learning to hug her instead of fighting, shaming or following her orders.

Seeking help was not easy. For someone shaped by complex trauma, asking for help feels dangerous. My amazing nutritionists (aka my Angels) were helping me to move from the deathbed but still something was missing. I trusted my heart. I found an alternative doctor. In our appointment he said - Lyme and mold. I paused - finally, finally my symptoms made sense, finally the symptoms I even myself sometimes would label as mystical - made sense, and when I looked back into the history of mine - living situations, work situations - it all made sense. 

A puzzle finally being completed.

When I entered Lyme communities and read people describing my exact lived experience — the electric shocks when you try to fall asleep, the feeling of being between life and death, the pain so intense that only the tip of your nose feels free — I felt seen and understood more than ever. My inability to walk at times. My depersonalization. My long freeze state. My food sensitivities. My sun sensitivity. The long list of symptoms that sounded abstract before. It was not my madness. It was my body under constant alarm seeking help.

Eighty percent of me believed this was the path. Not an easy path, but a part of my path. Twenty percent still needed more validation. Black on white written proof. I realized that what I really needed was to be believed. To be understood. To be supported. 

It took me time to do the testing because my perfectionist part wanted the best possible test. The one that would show the highest probability of truth. I didn’t want to be left in the unknown again. When the results finally came last week, I felt a smile on my face, a relief and hope. For many people, it is just paper and for me it was accomplishment. Black on white confirmation of what my inner waters had been whispering for years.

I have tears when I think about how strong the soul can be. The soul that wants to live. The soul that believes in beauty and harmony. The soul who once protected others first and is now learning to protect this body, this life.

Alongside relief, there is grief. That it took so long. That I was disbelieved. That I was labeled too sensitive, too anxious, too much. That I almost stopped believing myself. That I had to push my body to the brink that the sacred protector would finally wake up in my soul.

After receiving the diagnosis, I noticed I wanted someone to say sorry. Sorry that we didn’t believe you. Sorry that you had to struggle alone. Sorry it took ten years. Sorry for the sleepless nights. Some people, especially those who went through similar journeys, could say those words. Others could not. Some only saw “the sensitive one” again.

Chronic illness is deeply lonely. In the Lyme community I see it everyday. Sometimes I call it a spiritual illness, because it strips you down to truth, opens your eyes, and if you are lucky - opens your heart. 

People can hurt us. Especially those who cannot sit in our shoes. But people also heal us. Healing is relational. There is magic in reaching out to those who carry light, hope, wisdom and their own lived expirience. There is magic in being held by someone who understands.

I still deeply believe that nervous system healing is central. And at the same time, I believe in loving the body practically. Maybe we needed more rest. More minerals. More vitamins. More sunlight. More grounding. Maybe something very specific just for you.

Listening and attuning is different from fixing.

When support comes from love, not punishment, something shifts, something feels more safe, more protected. I do not need to fix my body so others would love me. I do not need to become less sensitive to belong. I need coherence. I need unity. I need all my parts — physical, emotional, mental, spiritual, chemical— to vibrate together in the same frequency.

Today, I celebrate my black-and-white paper with mold, toxins, bacteria written on it. Years ago, it would have created panic. Now I look at it and think: okay, you exist. We exist. Let’s learn how to live together.

I don’t need to fix or abandon myself anymore.

I need to love this body and its sacred expirience.

And that love — I believe — was always living inside my soul and lives in each of us.