These past few weeks, I have felt, deeply, how self-sabotage works—that profound echo the Ego uses to convince us that nothing has changed, that all our healing work has been in vain. Like a dance that paralyzes, it is a relentless whisper, almost hypnotic, trying to erase everything I have learned, pulling me down to a new kind of emotional bottom—a place where old escapes no longer exist. There is no more numbness from drugs, no refuge in abuse, no relief in self-harm. Now it is just me, face to face with raw pain and a solitude that asks me to listen in silence. It is strange, this space where certainty crumbles, as if the noise of the mind wants to drown out the Spirit’s call, and everything else fades away, leaving only the hidden shadows of my soul, like the phases of a mysterious moon. This time, the Ego tries to make me believe I am starting over, that I am back to square one. But, deep down, I know I am not the same. I know something in me has changed, and ...
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