Some weeks ago, I was in one of those rare peaceful stretches. My days were filled with writing, meditating, and doing the kind of deep work that makes you feel new again. I had just finished a self-organized mini retreat at home, a full week of being with myself, peeling off old layers, and removing the blocks I felt still lived somewhere in my energy. Every day felt calm. My creativity was flowing like water. my counseling work was growing internationally, and new things were opening for me. I thought I had finally reached a solid, balanced ground…
Then my sister visited me.
It had been more than five months since we last met at my place. I used to visit her momentarily. During all that time, she had no idea about my healing, my growth, or the new life I had built. She never showed interest in what I do, so I stopped expecting it. But when she came, something inside me softened. I felt that old longing rise, the wish to have her as my soul sister, someone who could celebrate me, understand me, love me without comparison. It felt innocent at first. I wanted her to see me, finally.
So I told her everything. every little success. Every new blessing. not to brag, but to share. To feel close. For someone who has never known family support, that moment of wanting recognition from blood is strong… It makes you believe maybe this time will be different.
But it wasn’t.
She asked questions. not the kind that show curiosity or love, but the kind people ask when they want details to measure, compare, and calculate. And then I saw it. That tiny flicker on her face. Envy. Discomfort. I could feel it in the air before I could explain it to myself. After five years of energy work, my body picks up vibrations before my brain catches them.
I knew she was comparing our lives. Hers: sleeping all day, playing games all night, Netflix, no job, no study, no healing, surviving a controlling mom because of being dependent on her…
Mine: a hard-won peace after surviving abuse, trauma, multiple diseases, and years of carrying a home on my shoulders without support. And yet, she saw me as lucky. She couldn’t see the years of pain that built this quiet stability. She couldn’t feel the cost of it.
Still, I tried to keep the connection alive. I made her part of my life again. I loved her, gave her space in my world… But she never met me halfway. I have seen this pattern before, her lack of empathy, her comparisons, her absence when I needed her. Still, I kept hoping that maybe this time, she would see me differently.
She didn’t.
After she left, something in me cracked. I stopped sleeping. My body went into full survival mode. I would lie in bed, wide awake all night, mind racing, chest tight, trying every trick I knew, melatonin, no caffeine, massage, pills. Nothing worked…
The nights were endless. By morning, I’d finally collapse for a few hours, only to wake up exhausted and hollow. I stopped meditating. My creativity disappeared. My body, which I had healed from so much, was now consuming all its energy just to stay awake.
And the worst part? She didn’t even notice. Not once did she ask if I was okay. Not once did she feel my silence. She was back in her world, while I was here, drowning in my thoughts.
One night, around 4 a.m., I was crying because I couldn’t sleep and felt like the life I had built with so much inner effort was slowly drowning in chaos… I was replying to her usual messages while swallowing another pill, hoping it would give me at least two hours of rest. It was impossible to tell her what I was going through when she was already crying about how our mom would never change herself… my sister knows that, yet refuses to change herself, and when I try to tell truth, she hates it. So I stayed silent.. That night broke something open in me. I saw clearly that I had fallen into an old wound, expecting love from a place that has none to give.
So I decided to rebuild myself again. Slowly, intentionally, step by step. Here’s what I did.
1. I stopped forcing sleep.
Instead of punishing myself for being awake, I got out of bed, kept the lights low, and did something gentle, listened to spiritual sounds, or wrote down what I was feeling. The bed became a place for rest again, not war.
2. I made morning light non-negotiable.
Even when I felt half-dead, I went outside within an hour of waking. Just thirty minutes of sunlight helped my brain remember what morning meant. The body clock can heal faster than we think if we let nature lead.
3. I avoided long naps.
A thirty-minute nap when needed was fine, but no long crashes. It trained my brain to build real sleep pressure for night.
4. I ate at set times.
Even if I wasn’t hungry, I ate breakfast soon after waking. Regular meal times signal safety to the body. And safety is what my nervous system needed most.
5. I dimmed lights after sunset.
I turned my home into a soft cave of calm. No harsh screens, no bright bulbs. I wore screen glasses and used night mode. My brain needed the signal that day was over.
6. I calmed my body before asking it to sleep.
I took warm showers, soaked my feet, breathed slowly, inhale for four seconds, exhale for eight. I learned that the goal was not to fall asleep but to feel safe again.
7. I journaled every racing thought.
When my mind wouldn’t stop, I poured it all out on paper and said out loud, “This can wait till morning.” It was a small ritual of peace, reminding my brain it didn’t have to protect me all night.
8. I brought back one anchor at a time.
Instead of forcing all my old routines, I chose one small spiritual or creative act daily, sometimes prayer, sometimes writing, sometimes a short meditation. Healing came back one thread at a time.
9. I gave and received blessings.
I gave charity with the intention of protection and whispered prayers for prosperity. These small acts felt like reclaiming my energy without resentment.
10. I accepted it as temporary.
Instead of labeling myself broken, I told myself, “My body is protecting me.” That changed everything. Self-compassion let my system reset.
The shift wasn’t overnight, but slowly, my sleep came back. First three, then five hours, then six. Slowly my creativity returned. My meditations started feeling powerful again. My spark reignited. It felt like finding the light switch inside a dark room I had lived in for weeks.
When my energy stabilized, I sat down and reviewed everything. I looked at what had happened not as a victim, but as an observer. I wrote every emotion, every thought, every wound that reopened. Then I wrote how I would respond differently next time. Not with coldness, but with clarity. I promised myself I would never again share sacred parts of my soul with someone who doesn’t value them. That I would not crave validation or love from people incapable of giving it.
This is the same process I teach my clients. Write the wound, then write its opposite. Because when we make the new response real in our mind first, the brain starts to rewire. Healing is not about changing people. It’s about teaching your nervous system what safety feels like.
Through long meditations and deep rewiring, I restored the balance I had lost. Today, as I write this, I feel that spark again, the same flow that once filled my mornings before the chaos began. It took work, but I am grateful. I lost myself for a moment, and then I found myself again.
I know that one day, I will meet her again. And when I do, I will not shrink, not harden, not overshare. I will stay rooted in my peace. Because I learned that the greatest test of healing is not how we feel alone, but how we remain ourselves in front of the people who once broke us.
Every part of this journey reminded me why I do what I do. Healing is not a straight line; it’s a spiral. Each time we circle back to pain, we meet it from a higher place. And that is growth.
If this story touched you, if you saw yourself in any part of it, in the sleepless nights, in the longing for family love, in the rebuilding after collapse, know that you can heal too. Not by pretending to be strong, but by facing the truth of what hurts and rebuilding from there.
If you want to go deeper, work one-on-one with me. You can book an appointment directly on my homepage. And if you want more reflections, stories, and science-backed insights on self-healing, subscribe to my newsletter and follow me on Threads. Let’s heal and evolve, together.
