Awakening is the moment you begin to see through the layers of who you thought you were. It’s not about adding something new—it’s about releasing what no longer fits. As old beliefs, identities, and stories start to dissolve, there’s often a stretch of unease—a kind of inner friction known as cognitive dissonance—where your mind struggles to reconcile what it thought was true with what your soul now knows.

We awaken in layers: through relationships, friendships, work, or through seeing beyond the limits of our roles, names, and national or even human identities. Each awakening peels back another veil, revealing a deeper remembrance—that you are not just a person in the world, but consciousness itself, awakening within it.

Awakening isn’t an ending—it’s a beginning. Once you see through the illusion, life doesn’t suddenly become perfect; it becomes real. You start noticing the quiet truths behind everything—the patterns in your relationships, the motives behind your actions, the ways your soul has been whispering all along.

At first, this can feel confusing, even disorienting. The mind scrambles to make sense of the new awareness, searching for meaning and structure—this is that familiar cognitive dissonance, where what you thought was true begins to unravel. It’s natural to seek grounding—to read spiritual books, explore practices, return to old faith traditions, or dive into new ones. These explorations are not detours; they’re part of the journey as your inner landscape reshapes itself.

Think of it like a snail shedding its shell: there’s a tender, in-between time before the new one forms. During that phase, it helps to stay close to practices that anchor you—meditation, nature, journaling, honest conversation—and to seek guidance from teachers or communities that feel resonant and real. Over time, the new structure of your being begins to form naturally, not from fear or belief, but from lived understanding.

Awakening moves in waves. You may find yourself expanding, contracting, forgetting, and remembering again. Each cycle deepens you. What once felt like falling apart is simply your soul growing into a larger home.

In the early stages of awakening, it can be incredibly difficult to tell the difference between genuine spiritual opening and the mind’s attempt to make sense of what’s happening. When the old structure begins to crumble, the mind often panics—it scrambles to reorient, to find something solid to hold onto. You may feel flooded with thoughts, doubts, or strange sensations that you can’t quite interpret. It’s as if your inner compass has lost its magnet.

Without training or grounded practices, it’s nearly impossible to discern whether what you’re feeling is intuition or simply confusion. True intuition is quiet, spacious, and steady; fear and overthinking are noisy, urgent, and restless. But in the beginning, both can feel the same. It’s like discovering Santa Claus isn’t real—suddenly, the scaffolding of belief collapses, and you don’t yet know what’s real in its place.

This is a tender and disorienting stage. Don’t try to do it all alone. Seek guidance from someone who’s walked this path—a teacher, guide, or community that can help you stay grounded as you navigate the unknown. Some people find stability by returning to familiar faiths or traditions, rebuilding their connection within those structures. For others, those systems no longer fit, and a more personal or fluid path must emerge. Either way, the key is support and discernment.

And remember: awakening is not a substitute for care. Sometimes, the turbulence of awakening coincides with physical, emotional, or hormonal shifts—especially in times of great change or midlife transition. It’s wise to have a circle that includes both spiritual mentors and grounded, trauma-informed or holistic medical professionals. Awakening opens many doors, but walking through them safely and integratively requires balance, humility, and help.

Because awakening dissolves the world you once knew. You start seeing through layers that others may still live inside of—and that can feel isolating. Old connections may fade. Familiar comforts might no longer soothe. But this loneliness isn’t punishment; it’s purification. It’s the sacred space where the noise clears, and the soul finally has room to speak. In time, that emptiness becomes fullness. What once felt like loss begins to feel like liberation.