People often ask what spiritual awakening feels like.
The truth is, I do not think awakening is one single moment.
I think we are always awakening in some way.
From the moment we are born, life itself begins shaping us, teaching us, breaking us open, and reflecting us back to ourselves.
Some parts feel beautiful.
Other parts feel terrifying.
For me, awakening did not happen all at once. It unfolded slowly over many years through experiences, questions, suffering, healing, fear, surrender, and deep self-reflection.
And honestly, there were times I thought I was losing my mind.
I experienced moments I could not explain. I saw and felt things that other people around me did not understand. Often I was told that what I was experiencing was “all in my head.”
And in some ways, maybe it was.
Because over time, I began realizing that awakening was not really about escaping myself — it was about becoming aware of myself.
My patterns.
My fears.
My wounds.
My conditioning.
My identity.
One of the hardest parts of my journey was realizing how deeply I had identified as a victim.
At the time, I did not see it that way.
I blamed my parents.
My past relationships.
My childhood.
My circumstances.
The way people treated me.
And while many painful things truly happened, I eventually had to become willing to look honestly at myself beyond the blame.
That was not easy.
Awakening, for me, was not about becoming spiritually perfect.
It was about becoming honest.
Honest about my pain.
My fears.
My patterns.
My attachments.
My desire to be saved by someone or something outside myself.
There were moments of deep beauty and moments of deep fear.
Moments where I felt connected to everything.
And moments where I felt like parts of me were dying.
There were also moments where my sense of separation began dissolving in ways I could barely explain.
I started seeing pieces of myself in everyone and everything.
Not just intellectually, but emotionally.
At times, it felt beautiful.
At other times, almost overwhelming.
The intensity of it challenged the way I had always viewed life, identity, and other people. It felt as though the boundaries between “me” and “everything else” were softening.
And honestly, there were moments it felt almost nauseating in its intensity.
But over time, with more acceptance, the experience softened into something quieter and more peaceful.
Not a loss of individuality, but a deeper understanding that perhaps we are all far more connected than we realize — each of us living different experiences, carrying different stories, and yet somehow still part of the same human unfolding.
I also went through periods of intense nervous system healing, emotional release, shadow work, and learning how to sit with myself without running. Some experiences felt peaceful. Others felt overwhelming.
There were moments I truly thought I was physically dying.
But looking back now, I can see that much of awakening was not about becoming someone new.
It was about slowly letting go of everything I was not.
I still do not believe awakening is something that “ends.”
I think life continues unfolding us layer by layer.
There are still lessons.
Still healing.
Still growth.
Still awareness expanding in different ways.
But if there is one thing I have learned so far, it is this:
Awakening is not about becoming more special than anyone else.
It is about becoming more real.
More present.
More honest.
More aware.
And perhaps, little by little, remembering who we were beneath all the fear, conditioning, shame, and separation all along.