Yesterday, I realized I wanted to share this story. And as often happens when something big is trying to move through me, I woke up in the middle of the night with the words already forming in my mind — unable to fall back asleep. So here I am, slowly writing as a new day begins.
This past weekend, I attended a women’s retreat hosted by Selva. The focus was shadow work — meeting the hard emotions, going deeper into yourself. But to my surprise, the whole retreat was easy for me. I felt deep joy and grounded peace. Most times in life I join practices to support others or to process some inner difficulty, so experiencing this much joy while intentionally approaching discomfort was something rare and beautiful. It was confirmation: I’m finally in a place that feels deeply harmonious and rooted. And it felt like the right time to finally share something I’ve been holding for a long while — the story of what happened when I was not grounded at all.
The high before the fall
Three years ago, when my child was just over six months old, I was riding high. The world was in fear over the pandemic, but I felt energized. I saw purification and healing woven into the collective chaos. I had no postpartum depression — quite the opposite — I felt better than ever. I was studying, doing spiritual practices with full energy, feeling deeply, empathically, intensely. I was like a leaf in the wind — easily carried by others' emotions. When a friend once shared a confusing emotional experience, I could literally feel the ground slipping beneath me. I began to sense how my inner state moved me through different realities, and for a whole week, I watched the outer world change in sync with my inner shifts.
I had incredible experiences — deep connections with guides, spiritual insight, vivid emotion. I’ve never felt their presence so strongly or received their messages so clearly.
And then I read a book by Teal Swan. In it, she described a simple emotional process — a meditation I’d done before, but never for long. This time, she suggested doing it all the way to the end. Until something really shifts.
I realized: I’d never given my emotions that kind of full attention. Even during therapeutic sessions, people would guide me into feelings, but always end the session before I was done — before the emotion had fully moved. No one had ever given me the space I needed. So I decided to give it to myself. I made a vow — if it takes three days, so be it. I’ll feel this all the way through.
I forgot that vow. But the universe didn’t.
The meditation that cracked everything open
One night, after the family was asleep, I began to meditate. For three hours, I went deep. At the end, I felt it — a cosmic confirmation. My body vibrated, as if in a full-body energetic orgasm. I felt myself lift into a weightless state — peaceful and glowing. Then an old childhood memory surfaced.
Until then, I’d remembered this moment in black and white — with a clear beginning and end. But suddenly, it unfolded in color, full of sensations. It was a longer version than I’d ever seen. I realized I’d edited the memory — cropped it — and in doing so, had also distorted its emotional truth. It fascinated me.
Over the next few days, I integrated this new version of the memory. It changed my relationship with one of my parents in a profound way.
I decided to do the meditation again. Another night, another session. This time, five memories surfaced — not all traumatic, some even joyful. But again, they shifted how I saw myself and my relationships. I began to understand how many memories had been unconsciously “edited” to protect me from emotional complexity.
And I was hooked. What else had I forgotten? What else was hiding behind the curtain?
The door opens — and doesn’t close
Then I attended a plant ceremony. It was beautiful and grounding, but I was sleep-deprived afterward. That’s important — not because the plants caused what happened next (they didn’t), but because I was more open, more fragile. My child was still very young. My hormones, sleep, and nervous system were all in flux.
A day after the ceremony, I meditated again. The same practice. Only this time, instead of a few memories surfacing... everything opened.
My subconscious completely cracked open.
Memories — beautiful, traumatic, neutral — poured out nonstop for three days. I barely slept. I barely ate. I could only pause for tiny breaks before the flood resumed. My mind was downloading and reviewing every possible thing. I had no control.
And during those three days, all kinds of synchronicities happened. My parents — both of whom I rarely talk to on the phone — called. Major events were unfolding in my family. I could see how my inner work was shifting our collective experience. Reality bent. It felt close to enlightenment.
But one thing was missing: grounding.
The fall
I felt invincible. I ignored fear. I ignored boundaries. I started behaving in ways that were impulsive and out of character.
I thought: fear is a lie, right? But then I fell off an electric scooter. And it hit me: fear isn’t the enemy. It’s a useful signal. A reminder to slow down. To move with care.
My senses heightened. I saw energy fields, heard collective pain, felt messages from beyond. At first, this felt magical. Divine.
But then I started taking on the responsibility for it all. I believed everything that happened — from world events to people’s pain — was somehow my fault.
And the magic turned to horror.
At night, I began to feel heavy energies. I couldn’t sleep. I felt the pain of others. Sometimes I heard the cries of children in gas chambers. Other times, I felt burning on my skin. Torture. Suffering.
Every night, again and again.
I prayed for my third eye to close. I prayed for death.
I believed in reincarnation, so suicide wasn’t an option — I knew I’d just have to do this all again, maybe worse. But I wanted out. I begged for it.
A message from the road
One day, I got in the car and told God: “Now is the perfect time. I won’t stop. Just put something in my path. Let me die fast. I’m useless anyway — just consuming resources.”
About 10 minutes later, as I drove on this countryside road, two dogs ran into my path.
I didn’t brake as per my promise. But they managed to avoid my car by inches. I felt the rush of adrenaline, and I heard a clear message:
“Yes, I could take you now. But I won’t. You’re not done. You are still needed here.”
From that moment, I stopped praying for death.
I still felt worthless. But I trusted in this divine message — for some reason, I was meant to stay.
The long road back
I finally realized I wouldn’t find a magic door back to my old life. I couldn’t “go back.” Only forward.
And that helped. It was an important puzzle piece towards healing. But the difficult part was still not over.
I spiraled into deep depression. My thoughts felt dangerous. My guilt unbearable. I was afraid to drop a breadcrumb on the floor. To think the wrong thing.
The environment didn’t help. We were living with our extended family, where I constantly felt small. News constantly played in the background, always negative. I blamed myself for all of it.
Healing felt impossible.
We sought help from many sources: psychologists, shamans, psychiatrists, healers. Some were helpful. Some… deeply unprofessional. One “famous” healer even said if I didn’t come back to him, I’d be dead within a month. That’s a whole story in itself.
But there were lights in the darkness.
A psychologist explained to me that my brain was reorganizing — like tidying a messy room. That even if it felt worse, things would eventually fall into place. That gave me hope.
One astrologer said the difficult transit would last 3–4 months. That turned out to be true.
Another woman named Meilė (Love) told my husband that healing without consent creates karma — and respected my boundaries. That meant a lot.
What finally helped
Honestly? Linas. His patience. His care. His belief in me.
And his brilliant idea: let’s go to Tenerife.
I didn’t believe it would happen. But it did.
Getting away from the noise, the judgment, the language I could understand too well — and into sunshine, warmth, space — helped. Within two weeks, the depression lifted slightly.
Then a friend invited me to a women’s circle.
There was nothing extraordinary. Just women. And when it began, I cried. Ugly, unstoppable, snotty crying — for an hour. And it was beautiful. Because I hadn’t felt anything in months. Not joy, not sadness. I had become a robot.
That circle cracked me open again. But this time, into feeling.
Rebuilding from the root
I decided to ground myself. If I didn’t know what to do with life, I’d at least learn something.
I started practicing Qigong — something for the body, not just the mind. And it helped. Movement became my medicine. I felt that anxiety, shame, and trauma could move through me with breath, motion, and presence. I still do Qigong when I feel unbalanced. I also began pole dance and body strengthening. My voice teacher even said my singing improved once my body got stronger.
The realization of life’s absurdity — of how none of this really matters — actually made me love life more. I became more present, more discerning about how I spend my time.
I remembered a ritual I did when I was lost. I took a malachite stone — one that looked like land, and even had a human face in its pattern — and offered it to the earth. I asked the universe to find us a plot of land to call home. A month after Tenerife, we found our land. Did the stone help? I don’t know. But part of me believes in that small magic.
Coming full circle
Following the breadcrumbs of joy, of soul whispers, of sacred curiosity… Sacred Lotus was born. This path of service. This purpose. This medicine.
Would I recommend experiencing my dark night of the soul?
No.
I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
And yet… I am so deeply grateful for it.
And I share this because I want to remind you: if you’re on a spiritual path, stay connected to the root.
Don’t neglect the body. Don’t skip grounding.
Because the sky may open.
And when it does — you want your feet planted firmly on the earth.
8/25/2023
1 comment
Dėkoju be galo už šį pasidalinimą su įvairiais prieskoniais…. <3