LETTING GO

Change is not always linear.

The loosening of old patterns happens in layers, while you find yourself again and again confronted with a multitude of reminder triggers. I often experienced that a discomfort I believed to be already resolved would flare up again in my life.

A situation (one that hadn’t triggered me for a long time) would, for some inexplicable reason, begin to sharpen my senses again.
This was the case with anxiety as well.

Over the course of four years, there were periods when it almost completely quieted down, then unexpectedly returned to remind me: there is still plenty of work to be done in the deeper layers.

For example, when I started the Anamé kundalini program in the spring of 2018, after a few weeks of intensive practice my symptoms quieted down to such an extent that I thought my work was done.

Then, after this temporary calm, we suddenly descended into a deeper layer, where the previously retreating symptoms burst to the surface like a tsunami. The nature of the anxiety changed. It became deeper and stronger.

It’s hard to put into words, but something changed profoundly—just not in a good direction.
At least, that’s what I believed at the time.

It’s easy to believe this, since you can’t see the end of it, and on top of that, everything seems to only be getting worse.

The ego loves to exploit such states in an extremely manipulative way.
Almost as if an entity were trying to sabotage the process, to hold you back from change—because sooner or later, that change would lead to its exposure. And this is its greatest fear.

When strong doubts and fears arise during a process like this, it is often a sign that you are on the right path, because something has truly begun. At such times, the ego starts to sabotage the process.

“This is going nowhere.”
“You’ve already done everything you could.”“Just have a beer and light a cigarette instead.”

I often did exactly that…

I wish I could say that I never let myself be pulled back. The truth, however, is that I often slipped into the comfort of self-pity, slowly making room once again for old harmful thoughts and habits.

Let’s put it this way: I liked to take advantage of the possible benefits that came with suffering.

I blamed the circumstances, my parents, the higher powers, and anyone I could criticize, in order to divert attention away from myself. At times I drank and smoked, which only made this already sensitive healing process even more difficult and slower.

All of this was a manifestation of self-sabotaging programs.

To this day, there are still more difficult periods when I suddenly catch myself doing this. Of course, nowhere near as much as during that particular four-year period.

Back then, I went through such intense emotional roller coasters that the suddenly surging energy often manifested in fits of rage.

It’s like when the built-up pressure inside a champagne bottle finds a way out.

It simply explodes.

After the umpteenth such occasion, I grabbed my bike and rode out to the forest on the edge of the city to scream it all out. I remember that the first time I stood there, I didn’t even dare raise my voice—it went so completely against every norm.

I looked around several times before I finally brought myself to do it.
At the top of my lungs.
It was a very strange experience.

My mind kept circling around the thought of what would happen if someone heard that version of me—the one raging behind the scenes. In the end, I allowed him to truly express himself there for the first time.

After a short pause, everything that needed to come out finally did.
And it felt very good.

So good, in fact, that after the first time it quickly became a regular practice. Foam at the mouth, I released the pent-up rage inside me, sometimes even chopping wood with an axe as well.

I slipped into an almost trance-like state; so much poured out of me. Words and expressions that, upon hearing them, a psychiatrist might have immediately sent me to a locked ward.

Within the span of a few minutes, traumatic memories surfaced from my childhood, permeated by emotional blackmail—memories that had all contributed to the rock-solid anxiety and panic that had formed by the time I was twenty.

Over time, I had to face the fact that this was actually what I had been doing all along.
Beneath the surface, I was raging.

My old traumas were also being compensated for by my rebellious self—the one who almost felt joy in breaking himself while skating. This is yet another way in which the suppressed energy stemming from unprocessed trauma can manifest.

For a long time, I believed that the anger I felt back then was merely about the failure of a single botched move. The reality, however, was that deep down I was raging against everyone I felt I had been defeated by.

All the childhood abusers, classmates, “teachers,” and parents—I was attacking them relentlessly even after all those years. The only problem is that every such attack is a brutal act of self-attack, which also leads to the ongoing manifestation of self-sabotaging programs.

One such manifestation was the continuous series of bruises and bone fractures I experienced through extreme sports. On the surface, of course, this was always labeled as “cool,” even though, at a deeper level, it was about compensating for unhealed wounds.

I was living in an inverted world.

Have you ever wondered why, within this field, there are those who consciously build a career almost injury-free, while others break down their bodies within just a few years? This is one of the reasons.

It’s just not obvious, because the main threads are being driven from the background by the projection of underlying subprograms, beliefs, and negative family patterns.

For me, the cup overflowed in 2015, when my knee injury gradually made me aware of all this. Simply put, nothing could remain the way it had been before.

Now, looking back, it feels very good to see how much tension and anxiety have been resolved.
This is an important word.

This is not about forgetting, but about resolution.

Letting go was, in some way, an important part of this—even if on its own it did not bring about real change.

After these kinds of “screaming rituals,” I would always calm down a little for a while, then sit down in a nearby meadow to practice awareness.

I observed myself and tried to accept who I was in that moment—even if I was staring into the eyes of a raging, wounded animal.

Don’t think that only a few of us experience this kind of tension. It is present in almost everyone—even in those who are considered very “nice people.”

It lies buried deep, dormant like a volcano waiting to erupt, and then, after a few decades of temporary calm, the constantly building pressure begins to manifest from the inside out.

The question is: how many signs do you need before you intervene?
Unfortunately, most people are so deeply trapped within the framework of their beliefs that only a strong pattern interruption can bring about real change—just as it did for me in 2015.

This can be, for example, an accident or any event labeled as negative that sets a process in motion. From that point on, it’s up to you.

I know many people whose lives were marked by some major rupture before they began moving toward a path of fulfillment.

From a few years’ distance, it becomes clear that these so-called negative events are sometimes integral pieces of a puzzle that creates a new life.