“The strongest soul emerged from suffering. The most enormous character is burned with scars.” ~Kahlil Gibran
I have two versions.
There’s something I’m currently in. A grounded current woman who holds space for others, guides people towards healing, walking barefoot through the grass, whispering assertions over coffee.
And there are other versions. The person who barely made it. The man stared at her fridge as a distraction from the pain of her chest, not hunger. Someone who didn’t feel like she was at home inside her body. It helps to lift it, not to mention those who were sure no one could understand the weight she carried.
If you’ve ever felt the pain of rewiring your whole existence, you know:
Trauma does not just live in your mind.
Bones, pauses between conversations, as well as a little slowly as someone speaks up.
For years I’ve been running on autopilot. From the outside I looked fine. But internally, I was troubled by invisible scars and implicit memories.
Then it was a moment I would never forget. When I stood up to those who gave me life.
I was in my 20s. I have been carrying years of res, confusion and heartache. Every harsh word, every time I feel small, it’s all accumulated in me.
And I finally let it leak during an emotionally charged conversation. I cultivated a pattern that had a profound impact on me, hoping to be asked.
I was hoping for regret, probably even repaired it.
But instead, I heard: “We did everything we could.” It was calm, perhaps resigned. It wasn’t unfriendly, but it felt like it was closing rather than opening. At that moment I felt both understanding and quiet pain, realising that we weren’t seeing in the middle.
These six words were not at ease. They did not relieve the damage over the years. Because understanding the limitations of your parents will not eliminate your pain. But it offers you a choice:
To move it forward. Or put it in the end.
That was the turning point.
I realized I didn’t want to be stuck anymore. I was caught up in an old story, as if I either believe that I must restrain my emotions in order to protect peace, or that loyalty means silence. I’m embarrassed and stuck in a pattern I didn’t choose. I wanted to heal. Not only for myself, but for all my versions of myself that were invisible.
So I started writing.
Not for others, but for me.
When I couldn’t speak the truth out loud, I wrote it down. My journal has become a confessor. My pen, lifeline. My pain, teacher.
Ultimately, I delved deeper into my studies and found tools that would help me dig into somatic cell work, subconscious reprogramming, and hypnotherapy.
I learned that the subconscious is like a computer. It keeps everything you ever believed about yourself, especially the painful part. If you do not update the programming, continue to play the same loop.
I’m not enough. That’s my fault. You need to gain love. I have to stay safe and small.
And when you realize you can change that inner script? That’s when everything changes.
In 2020, I became a certified hypnotherapist. But honestly, it was just the official title. My real training began the day I stopped running myself.
Through that work I began to rewire old beliefs, freeing up the trauma that was preserved in my body, and communicating my young self with compassion instead of criticism.
I finally started to feel free. It’s not perfect. Not enlightened. But it’s more free.
Please cry freely and do not apologise. You can use the space freely. I’m free to stop all the others from modifying them, as I ultimately tend to myself.
Today I help others do the same thing.
Not because I have all the answers, but because I remember not even knowing which question to ask.
And if you’re reading this now, I want to say what someone wants to say to me: you’re not broken. You are not behind. You are worthless. You are the soul that walked through the fire – and you are still here.
Healing is not linear.
There are days when you feel like you are regressing, days when sadness feels fresh and you are questioning everything. it’s okay.
Progress is not perfect. It is existence. And your presence – not running afterwards, but the willingness to see your pain is what will change your life.
There’s no need to fuss about the path to healing. You need to go back to yourself.
So here’s what I learned:
1. Trigger is a disguised teacher. They refer to wounds that need to be cared for. For me, being interrupted or talking will trigger a fierce emotional response. This is rooted in previous experiences where my voice was not appreciated. I also realized that certain sounds of sounds, especially those that are merciless, can instantly make you feel sick.
2. You are allowed to feel angry at those who hurt you, and you have compassion for the fact that they didn’t know well.
3. The body will retain the trauma, but also hold the key to release. Pay attention to your breath. Your posture. Feelings in your intestines.
4. You can forgive and hold boundaries so that you cannot say no without overexplosion or leave the emotionally unsafe conversation. I also created a space when it’s not my role to carry the emotional processes of others, especially if it’s at the expense of my happiness.
5. You can sadden and still grow.
And above all: you can always rewrite your story. Because you are not your past. You are the author of your next chapter.
So let’s make it one of the landfills.
Stop shrinking and do it the moment you stand up. Make it a chapter for you to stop surviving and start your life.
You are the light you were looking for.
About Joanna Kacprzycka
Joanna is a certified hypnotherapist, mental medium, and subconscious rewiring guide to help women in turning emotional pain into deep inner forces. Combining deep subconscious healing with intuitive insights, she creates a space where people feel truly seen, deeply safe, and gently embraced. Her work helps others reconnect with their inner truth and regain their worth, once again, regaining their worth. Visit her on MindHealingGuide.com and YouTube.
