05.25.26: Processing the Unprocessed

Life is quite odd, isn't it?

Like confusing, cold, or faded yet fated.

I couldn't sleep recently and ended up wide awake at 2:20 AM, just letting my thoughts spill out. When the rest of the world goes quiet, the mind has a way of turning up the volume.

For some reason on this specific night, I caught myself thinking about some of the things I did while in the trenches of my own healing. Between 2022 and now, I’ve received a lot of interesting insights—highly spiritual, highly prophetic ones. But looking back on some of the actions I took based on those insights, the late-night doubts started creeping in. I found myself asking:

• What did I do?

• Did I really do it?

• Was it really necessary?

• What if I was wrong?

• If nothing happened, did I just make a fool of myself?

Those questions are heavy enough to keep anyone awake. But beneath the doubt, a quieter, deeper truth began to surface:

• What if the purpose of those actions was simply to plant a seed?

• What if those seemingly random actions were meant to plant a seed of network for what is to come?

• If it wasn't necessary, I wouldn't have felt the urgent, visceral pull to act on it in the first place, right?

I am reminded that sometimes certain pieces of information are given to us simply because we have the unique capacity to hold them. Think about our dreams, for example. We are given a vision of a life we want—even if it looks completely different from anything we’ve ever known—because we possess the capabilities to go after it and build it.

What if the things I did were just seeds being planted for a reality that won't manifest for decades? Sooner or later, those paths are going to cross anyway. A foreshadowing wouldn't hurt, right? Maybe it’s just a subconscious preparation.

It is fascinating, and a little frustrating, how our own doubts creep in during our most quiet moments, especially when we are supposed to be resting. I wonder about its purpose.

• Is it meant to test my ability to trust myself?

• Or is it truly because I did something wrong?

As an individual, I understand this kind of questioning acknowledges self-growth. But as a healer, it’s a daunting, heavy thought. It makes me question myself to the very depths of my gifts and my abilities.

Maybe I’m just too hard on myself. I hold myself to such a high standard of responsibility and integrity that I forget that I, too, am still just an individual still learning how to walk through life. I wonder if this whole experience is just a test to see if I can ground myself in the unknown—to sit in what I cannot control without allowing my own ego to guilt-trip me while life unveils itself.

Yet, the scariest question remains: What if I have mistaken my intuition for my ego, or vice versa?

But, then, how does one truly move on if they don't process lingering information? This late-night awake session just means that I have unprocessed information calling for my attention.

It feels like a test to see if I can allow myself to just feel, to just sit with my thoughts without needing to do anything, because right now, it is entirely beyond my control. I did what I did. And just because nothing is happening yet, it doesn’t mean it won't, right?

Sometimes, information is given to us just so we can sit with it. Sometimes, it's a test of what we will do with it. And sometimes, our actions are supposed to teach us something far greater than the information itself. Only timing can reveal the true intention.

But what if it never does?

How is that even possible? Everything has a beginning and an end. Life is a spiral in what feels like a constant loop. Sometimes we feel like we’ve looped right back to the exact same place we used to be, but we fail to see that we have grown and leveled up. Even when life feels stagnant, it isn’t. We are not who we used to be. We know more. We are years wiser. More conscious.

How intriguing, isn't it? That life is truly and inherently philosophical, itself. Information loops us back in circles until it teaches us what we need to know—until we process what we need to process before it can subconsciously release itself back to wherever it came from.

Maybe this 2:20 AM awakening isn't a crisis of doubt at all. Maybe it’s just a checkpoint at the home base.

A quiet reminder to show that I am still here. Still alive. Still learning how to feel and be alive despite the discomfort. Deeply caring. Deeply aware. Still growing. And that there is still so much left for me to grasp as life beautifully, slowly reveals itself to me.