Healing through Relationships

We aren’t meant to walk through life alone. Those who walk with others go further distances.

But opening up takes courage, especially in environments that don’t always feel safe. Many of us are still carrying the weight of childhood wounds, moving through the world in adult bodies, unhealed and often unseen.

When we operate from the ego mind for too long, we can become selfish, overly independent, and deeply wounded. And unraveling those patterns takes time—sometimes a lifetime. But I truly believe in the quiet power of acceptance, kindness, and unconditional positive regard. People on their spiritual path—those who lead with love—have the ability to create real change.

That’s what happened to me and a few of my good friends. Through the kindness of many gentle souls, we slowly began to believe that human connection isn’t always so painful. There is good. There is healing.

More often than not, we simply misunderstand each other.

If you grow up in an environment that doesn’t feel safe, it’s only natural to withdraw, to isolate, to build walls. It’s a heartbreaking way to live, and yet many of us still fall into the illusion that all our problems come from the outside world. So we hide our intentions, our feelings, our needs, out of fear that they won’t be met or understood.

I am—or at least, I was—one of those people.

Eight years ago, at my lowest point, I discovered meditation. My relationship wasn’t working, I had three small children, and I was drowning in work just to escape my reality.

Then came the breaking point, a crisis so big, we could no longer pretend. We were hurting each other with our constant expectations.

Because without that heartbreak—what I now call a heart opening—I’d probably still be the same person I used to be. That pain forced me to look inward. At the time, the outside world felt terrifying. Nothing seemed to be going my way. So, I sat. In silence. For hours.

Looking back, I can see how our deepest pain can be a doorway. It cracks us open. When the mind quiets and you realise how fleeting everything is, you start to shed layers of your old self. You come back to the Now—the only place that truly exists.

I’m grateful for that relationship. Even though we couldn’t save it, we both grew. Separately. And that growth was necessary.

Back then, I was kind at heart—but my mind was demanding. I believed if he would just change, then we’d be happy. Looking back now, it sounds... a bit absurd.

I remember vividly: after my first week of meditation. I was on my way to therapy, and it started pouring rain.

I used to hate the rain. But that day, it didn’t bother me. I was walking down Talbot Street, and I suddenly stopped—completely in awe of all the colorful umbrellas around me.

That was the moment something shifted. I broke free from the victim mindset. For the first time in a long time, my focus moved away from what was wrong, and I started to notice beauty again—even in the things I used to resist.

From then on, I meditated for hours each day. And though my relationship didn’t survive, it unravelled—I came to believe that this karmic connection had fulfilled its purpose. We had to part ways in order to begin again.

I wasn’t a good partner then, and it’s a relief to admit that.

As Eckhart Tolle wrote, “No amount of meditation can awaken a person as quickly as three failed relationships.” I’ve had four. So hopefully, the next one will be the last—and this time, I’ll have the tools to do the inner work without overwhelming my partner with my own unhealed parts.

I healed by slowly turning my frustration into compassion by learning to see a little of myself in every person who seemed to hurt me.

This is just one of many stories of transformation, healing, and the quiet power of human connection. When I look back, I realise how deeply I've been shaped by the people who’ve walked beside me, some briefly, others for a lifetime. These relationships reminded me that we’re not meant to go through life alone. It’s through connection that we grow, heal, and find the strength to face what at times feels impossible.

For a long time, I lived from my ego and became overly independent, closed off, and deeply hurt. It’s taken years to begin undoing those patterns, and I’m still learning. I know now that opening up, especially when you come from an unsafe or unloving environment, takes an incredible amount of courage. We often carry the weight of old wounds, hidden behind the shell of adulthood, not fully living but just trying to survive.

At times, at a point where everything feels like it is falling apart -relationships, friendships, careers, sense of self, when there's nothing left to hold on to, we are forced to reflect on the real meaning of our existence. That forces us to confront the ways we were hurting and have hurt others. At times when everything around us is collapsing, the real change happens; we turn inward, lost, often for hours, because the outside world feels unbearable.

In that stillness, something shifts. We begin to shed parts of ourselves that no longer serve us. When we face the loss of current reality and the loss of dreams of our future, we return to the present moment, the only place that truly exists.

As Eckhart Tolle once wrote, “No amount of meditation can awaken a person as quickly as three failed relationships.”

We can learn to heal by turning frustration into compassion by seeing pieces of us in everyone who seems to hurt us. And with that shift, when everything shatters, life becomes less about what was broken and more about what is being rebuilt.