I hesitated for a while, but by then I had worked on myself enough to decide: I deserve this. I knew the year ahead would be tough, and I thought having a space where I could share what was going on inside me—without advice or judgment, just attention—would be really helpful. I imagined it would be a friendly, sharing kind of tea-time chat.
Well, I was way off…
The women’s circle I ended up attending for over half a year worked deeply with both body and soul. We mainly used the bodywork—now called bodyway—method, which might sound vague at first but is actually very physical and real.
We start not from thoughts, but from body sensations: what you feel right then—tension, tightness, numbness, trembling. These subtle physical signals often lead to deeply buried memories and suppressed feelings. From there, we unfolded our own stories—not logically, but viscerally. And that changed everything inside us.
One place stirred it up, another helped me let go
At the same time, I kept going to family constellation sessions, often bringing the traumas and insights that surfaced there into the women’s circle. It was like one space shook the pain inside me, and the other let me hold it, look at it, and finally set it down.
And of course, there were the others—my fellow circle members, coming from all ages and backgrounds with very different stories. Yet somehow, every time I paired up with someone, we shared the same wound, blockage, or pain—just in different forms. It felt like invisible threads had brought us together. (Everyone else felt this too, which was almost unbelievable, yet magical and wonderful.)
One of my first big realizations was: I’m not alone in what I carry.
I’m not "overly sensitive," and I don’t overreact. Many others wrestle with the same questions, and just openly saying that to each other is healing.
It hurts, but it also feels good
I won’t sugarcoat it: the women’s circle was often brutally painful, and it took me days to pull myself together after some sessions. Layers opened inside me that I thought I had long closed—or didn’t even know were there. But my body knew. A single movement, a sentence, a look into someone’s eyes triggered avalanches I wasn’t ready for. Yet relief and freedom always followed.
At the same time, I saw people from a new perspective. What drives them isn’t just their words, but what they can’t even say. I started paying attention differently—to others and to myself. I realized how many of my decisions were shaped by childhood patterns, blocks, stuck points, and traumas.
For example, I had a 20-year friendship that had lately been kept alive only by habit and shared history. In this space, I finally allowed myself to honestly ask why I was holding on. I saw it was old childhood attachments—and that I’m no longer the little girl willing to suppress herself for a friendship. I found the strength to say we really need to loosen that bond.
Sometimes, a small everyday moment revealed something new—like why I tense up reflexively when someone unexpectedly hugs me. I would never have reached these insights alone at home.
A new language: connecting without judgment
The trust I experienced in this space took everything to a new level. At first, it felt strange to cry, open up, and say things I hadn’t even dared admit to myself in front of strangers. But I quickly realized: no one here was trying to "respond well" or "say something smart." Here, there was only attention and presence. It gave me a freedom I’d never known before.
I didn’t have to rehearse what to say a thousand times. I didn’t have to be careful not to make anyone uncomfortable. I could simply be—with whatever was inside me.
Along the way, I also learned I don’t have to choose between being spiritual and thinking scientifically. My intuitions aren’t weaknesses—they’re gifts. I no longer need to suppress my feelings or apologize for "just sensing" something. What’s true inside me is true for me, period.
I’m not someone else, but I’m much closer to myself
I’m at peace with my femininity, so no radical changes happened there. But I’m gentler and kinder with myself now—not just with others. I’ve started truly resting—not just physically, but emotionally too. I feel less often like I "haven’t done enough" or that "it’s time to be useful." Somehow, I’ve created more space inside for myself.
Though this women’s circle has ended, at the last session I saw my next step so clearly that I wasn’t surprised at all. That’s why I don’t believe this journey will ever really end—there will always be new milestones waiting for me, arriving in their own time. And I don’t want it to end, because as painful as it can be, my own story is also exciting and uniquely beautiful.
