There was a point in my life when I felt as if I were split in two: one half would muddle through life, keeping appointments, answering emails, smiling in photographs, while the other half stood silent and nameless. It surfaced in dreams, deep down in the pit of my stomach when I said yes to things I didn’t want to do, or as a cold numbness when they said I should be “grateful.”
I could not articulate this then, but I remember thinking: I’ve lost something. Not a job. Not a person. Something of myself.
I didn’t want another productivity tip. I didn’t want another pep talk. I wanted to understand why I felt so far away and find a way back.
That was when I started Jungian psychotherapy. I didn’t know much about it: it wasn’t about chasing happiness or fixing symptoms. It was about going inward, listening deeply, and meeting the parts of myself that I had eluded for years.
And that is what I did, slowly and carefully, with assistance. I found my way back to myself.
Not a Cure. A Conversation.
Here began fostering for me the feeling that this was not an area to be performed in. No assessment was being made, no grade was being assigned; instead, the individual was being invited into a conversation with themselves.
There is a certain dignity to that. The therapist didn’t speed me along toward answers. She did not give me coping strategies. Instead, she gave me presence-with and reflection. In that space, I began to listen to what I had ignored: grief I had never named, fears I had minimized, dreams I had forgotten.
It wasn’t always comfortable. But it was always truthful. And within that truth, I began to be more alive.
Working with the Shadow
For someone unfamiliar with Jungian concepts, know that the Shadow consists of everything we disregard inside ourselves. They are not bad in and of themselves; instead, they are what we have learned to conceal.
In my case, it was anger. I had spent years being the agreeable, the likable, the easy-to-be-around person. But under that surface of pleasantness was a quiet rage that I didn’t know how to handle.
I learned through therapy that this anger could not be feared. I sat with it and I listened. And behind the anger was something unexpected- a voice that had been silenced. My own. That voice had needs. It had limits. It had a right to be.
Working with the Shadow did not turn me into something new. It brought me back to something I had been all along, but did not know how to be.
Dreams That Speak
I have always had vivid dreams, but I used to brush them aside. After going through Jungian therapy, I learned to treat dreams as messengers. They are not just random images; the psyche tries to speak when the conscious mind is full or acting defensively.
That dream stayed with me. I was passing through an unfamiliar house. Something was left unfinished in each room: tasks included a painting, a letter, and a musical instrument with a few broken strings. I wandered, unsure of what I was searching for until I opened a door and saw an image of myself- a smaller, younger local version waiting.
That dream said more than the words ever could. It reminded me that there are parts of me still waiting to be reunited.
Not a Quick Fix
This work is not linear. There are weeks when I feel raw, uncertain. Some sessions leave me quiet for hours afterward. But something steady grows over time—a kind of inner rootedness. I don’t abandon myself as quickly. I don’t numb out as often. I recognize patterns sooner. I forgive myself faster.
And I’ve stopped expecting someone else to hand me my life’s meaning in a tidy package. Purpose has become less of a destination and more of a rhythm—something I live into and shape and reshape as I grow.
Coming Home Isn’t Grand. It’s Grounded.
I used to think healing would feel like a breakthrough. Some dramatic shift. But it hasn’t been like that for me. It’s been much quieter.
It’s in the moment I pause before reacting. It’s in the way I hold my gaze in the mirror. It’s in the dreams I no longer dismiss. It’s in the language I use now—gentler, more patient.
And most of all, it’s in the simple truth that I no longer feel like I’ve abandoned myself.
Conclusion
If any of this feels a little familiar, you have been feeling out of place, insecure, or just plain tired of locking up parts of yourself, then know that you are not alone.
In the process of this path, you don’t become anyone else. This is simply a process of growing into more of who you already are—the whole, truest self.
Dr. Bren offers Jungian psychotherapy for those able to dive deeper. Quick fixes and surface cures are not what you’ll get from me. But you will find a safe and grounded space to start coming back. Together, we will hear what your psyche attempts to communicate through dreams, symbols, stuck patterns, and forgotten truths.
If you are ready to take that journey, I invite you to learn more from Dr. Bren.
You’re not too late. You’re not too much. And you’re not lost. You may just be going home.
Let’s begin.
