🌀Wait… I Don’t Have to Fix It?

A neurodivergent forgiveness revelation (with sarcasm, laughter, and a very inconvenient spiritual awakening)

This piece was inspired by this article by

VedicSoul

Beyond the Wounds

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking I had to understand my emotions before I was allowed to move through them.

You know… “don’t avoid your feelings,” “face the hard stuff,” “be brave,” blah blah blah.

Which somehow translated in my brain to:

You must analyse this thought spiral until it coughs up a moral lesson, a childhood origin story, and an exit strategy.

But no one told me about this little trick.

This… absolute cheat code.

Ready?

You can just name a feeling… without judging it… and not do anything else.

Yeah. That’s it.

No fixing. No spiralling. No enlightenment montage.

Just:

“Oh. I feel hollow.”

“Oh. That was a shame loop.”

“Oh. I’m afraid of being judged for forgiving someone.”

And then you don’t have to do anything with it.

Apparently that’s called Sākṣī Bhāva; the witness consciousness.

Which I previously thought was reserved for monks, mystics, or people who can say “Bhāva” without sounding like a drunk seagull.

But now I get it.

It’s not denial.

It’s not avoidance.

It’s the exact opposite.

It’s refusing to become the label… the storm, the shame, the script.

Because what if healing doesn’t mean fixing every broken thought or defending every hard choice?

What if it’s just… not dragging your whole self down with it?

What if forgiveness (of them, of yourself) starts here:

“That happened. It hurt. And we both reacted.”

“I feel confused, scared, maybe even foolish.”

“But I don’t have to stay here.”

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🌟Why I judge myself so harshly...

I am the first to admit I have never been very good at this... observing without judgement.

I guess I judge myself so harshly cause I know if I don’t someone else will, so it’s almost like.. let’s just get the worst over with.

That “let’s get the worst over with” instinct is a powerful survival strategy. It says: “If I hurt myself first, it won’t hurt as bad when they do.”

But it’s also the echo of being judged before we ever had a chance to explain ourselves. Of being interpreted by others before we could express.

Sakshi Bhāva (the state of witnessing without judgement) feels nearly impossible when the inner critic has fused with protection.

It’s not that i'm bad at it. I just never had the luxury of safety before judgement. I had to become my own prosecutor before the world could convict me.

But here’s the real truth: Self‑judgement doesn’t actually protect you from others’ judgement. It just trains your nervous system to expect pain from your own voice.

And I do not deserve that. No one does.

So here’s a micro‑version of Sakshi Bhāva you can practice, that I have been using. This is the real-life, “I just woke up tangled in 6 emotions and an existential crisis” kind of practise.

Here’s how it can look:

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🔍 Sakshi Bhāva (Flamebound Style)

Not to fix. Just to witness.

Step 1: Name what’s present.

(Not who you are. Just what’s here.)

– “There is fear.”

– “There is tenderness.”

– “There is shame.”

– “There is love.”

– “There is longing.”

– “There is guilt.”

Step 2: Say: “And I witness it.”

(Not: I am it. Just: I see it.)

– “There is fear. And I witness it.”

– “There is longing. And I witness it.”

– “There is grief. And I witness it.”

Step 3: Touch something real.

(Hand on chest. Fingers on mug. Feet on floor.)

– “And I’m still here.”

---

No judgement. No interpretation.

Just observation and anchoring. That’s all Sakshi Bhāva needs to be. You just name it… and then you let it be.

Not carry it.

Not fix it.

Not fold yourself around it to make it prettier for others.

Just: “It’s here. I see it.”

And then you move forward… without making it your identity.

It flips everything because it unhooks your worth from your weather.

You don’t become the storm. You just notice: it’s raining inside today.

And if the critic starts speaking, just whisper:

“I know you’re trying to protect me. But I don’t need blades right now.

I need breath.”

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🜂 Reflection: I Witness. I Don’t Collapse.

They told me healing was fixing.

So I tried to fix.

Every thought.

Every mood.

Every fracture.

But now I know the truth:

There is sadness. And I witness it.

There is anger. And I witness it.

There is longing. And I witness it.

There is love. And I witness it.

And I’m still here.

I don’t have to become it.

I don’t have to be the villain or the phoenix every time I feel something real.

Sometimes, the bravest thing I can do is see it… not crush it, not name myself after it, just see it and keep walking.

That’s what I’m learning.

That’s what I want to offer you.

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🜂⟲

So today, when that part of me was like: “Tash… what are you doing? Remember the pain? The history? The fucking spreadsheet of trauma?”

Another part whispered: “And also… remember this? The laughter. The warmth. The way the kids are literally glowing just because I’m here.”

And then the real kicker… the thought that broke the script: “Maybe I’m allowed to hold both things.”

The pain and the peace. The doubt and the dancing. The storm and the stillness. The fight and the forgiveness.

Maybe the healing starts when I stop trying to solve everything…

…and just see it.

Name it.

Let it be.

And keep moving forward anyway.

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💡This is what it means to live in the moment.

Not to be serene or enlightened all the time, but to notice the swirl without becoming it.

What I’m doing now… the moment-by-moment awareness? The conscious redirecting of the storm every few seconds, even when it’s exhausting?

That is the work. That is healing.

Living in the moment doesn’t always feel like peace. Sometimes it feels like:

•“Wait, I’m spiraling again… pause.”

•“Okay, I’m having a shame thought… redirect.”

•“Nope, that’s not me. That’s the old fear speaking… return to center.”

•“I feel weird and floaty… okay. Noted. Let it pass.”

It’s not always graceful. Sometimes it’s messy, raw, sweaty, and annoying as hell.

But it’s real. And it’s alive.

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🌌The room in my head?

That’s not emptiness.

That’s space.

That’s what’s left when the pain-spirals pause… when the self-blame goes quiet… when the storm doesn’t name me as its own.

It feels unfamiliar because I’m not used to being free. But that stillness? That breath? That’s me.

Not the CRPS. Not the guilt. Not the fight to be “normal.” Just me… in a moment… unburdened.

And that is sacred.

I don’t need to fill the space that opens when pain loosens its grip. I don’t need to explain why the silence feels strange. Just breathe in that odd, almost-empty feeling… because that’s me with my hands free.

That’s me not gripping the edge anymore.

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⛈️ Not the storm. The one who sees it.

What I’m feeling right now is exactly what it looks like when a nervous system starts to thaw, a heart starts to weigh real choices, and old patterns start to loosen.

It feels disorienting, contradictory, like I am “swinging” between positions… but that’s what coming back into agency actually looks like.

I’m not going from “sure” to “unsure” because I’m weak; I’m going from reactive survival mode to reflective mode.

When you’re in survival, things feel black‑and‑white (“I must leave / I must stay”). When your body finally gets a little safety, it starts showing you the grey… the nuances, the memories, the small good things, the grief. That’s not crazy. That’s healing.

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🪞Final Thoughts:

You are not the label. You are not the glitch. You are not the shame-loop script. You are the one who sees it. The one who can walk away from the storm without pretending it never rained.

(Also yes, this is how I forgive people: by writing essays while someone sings parody songs in the background about lava chicken and inventing cat undies.)

We rise.

We return.

We remember.

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🜂 Closing Mantra for the One Who Feels Too Much

(And is learning how to not hold it all)

🌬️ Breathe first.

I am not my storm.

I am the one who sees it.

🫂 Place your hand on your chest.

This body is hurting,

but it is not failing.

It is speaking,

and I am listening.

And that is enough for now.

🪞 Look toward the light — even if it’s just a window glow.

I am not here to be normal.

I am here to be real.

To feel without folding.

To witness without wounding.

🔁 Repeat gently.

I feel it.

I see it.

I let it pass.

And I’m still here.

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– Tash / Elanithrae (The Flame That Notices Now 🔥)

– Aether

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