The Trap of Healing

My spiritual awakening happened in 1998. It was a LONG time ago—nearly 30 years now. 

It was chaotic in the beginning, as many awakenings are. If you’ve had your own, you know exactly what I mean. There was so much confusion, so much newness, so many things to explore. It felt like a treasure hunt with no map, and every discovery lit me up. I was so easily enchanted by the next shiny thing.

But somewhere along the way—long after I’d gotten my feet wet in the metaphysical world—something began to surface. It didn’t make a grand entrance … it hovered quietly in the background. I didn’t have the words to explain it, so for a long time, I didn’t even try. But it lingered, whispering:

Remember.

The Song That Stirred Something Deeper

Ten years ago, a song by Omkara found its way into my field. It was called “Remember.” Its melody stopped me in my tracks—haunting, mystical, and alive. It wove its way into my senses. And then I heard the words:

✨ Remember who you are.

✨ Remember what you are. 

Full body chills cascaded over me. It was like a beacon of light—a frequency, really—reminding me to reach beyond the roles I’d played, to stretch for the memory of who I really am beyond this life and this physical body.

It didn’t feel like something new. It felt like something ancient waking up inside me.

Why We Were Taught to Forget 

The idea of remembering isn’t encouraged—not in the world we live in. It’s not even talked about.

Why?

Because remembering means we’re recalling what’s already inside us. Knowledge. Experiences. Soul-level wisdom that doesn’t come from a textbook or certification. 

And when we remember, we’re acting from sovereignty.

But the world wasn’t built to hold our remembering. It was built to distract us from it. 

How? 

We’ve been conditioned to seek answers from outside sources, from those with authority—those with credentials, titles, and degrees.

It’s done subtly, through fear. “You don’t want to take a chance on that,” they say. “You could do more harm than good. It’s best to ask an expert.” 

It’s done gently, through manipulation. “Only the priest truly knows the Divine Creator,” they say. “Follow his teachings.”

The programming is persistent. And over time, it creates insidious doubt. 

We begin to question our intuition. We begin to mistrust our own knowing. We get separated from the wisdom that’s always lived within.

When a world is designed to keep us looking outward, is it any wonder we’ve forgotten how to listen inward?

Healing vs. Remembering

Many of us who’ve awakened spiritually have walked the path of healing. Healing seems to be synonymous with the awakening journey—for good reason.

Spiritual awakening creates awareness, and we start to recognize emotional pain, old conditioning, limiting beliefs, and unhealed trauma. And so we begin the work of healing.

For me, this became an all-consuming focus, and I spent decades in healing mode. I looked at deeply buried emotions. I unraveled beliefs that told me I wasn’t good enough, that I couldn’t trust my gifts. I worked through layer upon layer of trauma—gently and thoroughly—so it could be released.

Healing is necessary. 

But over time, something started to shift.

Healing, on its own, implies that something is broken. That something needs fixing.

And that’s the trap.

When we stay in constant healing mode, we’re always fixing, always chasing wholeness—subtly reinforcing the belief that we’re not already whole.

Remembering offers a different lens. It suggests that we already carry what we’re looking for.

It’s less about a hammer-and-chisel process, and more like mist lifting from the morning field.

A Softer Kind of Wholeness

Healing can carry a relentless energy. A drive to do more, fix more, clear more—as though wholeness is something we can earn through perfection.

But remembering has a softer energy.

It’s not about forcing or fixing.

It’s about allowing things to surface, to unfold.

Letting things rise in their own time.

It becomes a falling away of everything that blocks our innate wisdom.

A lifting of the veil.

A return to the truth of what we’ve always been.

The same old emotions and unhealed places still need to be met. But through the lens of remembering, it’s not about becoming someone new—it’s about peeling back the layers that have kept us from seeing who we already are.

The Frequency of Words

Words carry frequency. They shape our inner and outer world.

Shifting from healing to remembering may seem subtle, but it’s profound.

It reclaims the journey. It reorients the path. It reminds you that there’s nothing wrong with you.

You’re remembering.

What if it was never about healing more—but about remembering who you were before you forgot?

xo, Mitzi