by Anna Laskowska | Jan 27, 2026
The domain of human emotionality is vast and largely unexplored, much like the immensity of the ocean. This is what I discovered while diving deep into the hadal zone of suffering. The deeper I went, the more these hidden, unresolved fragments began to appear—often when I least expected them. It is precisely in those moments, while we are distracted by the physical aspects of life unfolding around us, that what truly affects us, lies beneath the surface, within us.
Some of that murky, previously unrecognized inner content tends to emerge from the sediments during—or after—long, deeply binding relationships.
How is it that someone who once felt like the one, the love of our life, can hurt us through betrayal and eventually leave? Where is the logic in that?
Through my own exploration, I began to notice that very often we enter relationships not because of genuine connection, but because of a convincing imitation of it—a series of illusions that closely resemble love, yet never truly are.
From what I have observed, we tend to be far more equipped for suffering than for intimacy. We may be capable of performing loving actions, yet as we move through life, we frequently carry vast amounts of unresolved inner layers—burdens we remain mostly unaware of as we move through relationships.
Another observation is this: when distress becomes activated, we are often left completely in the dark—unsure how to meet what has been stirred, or how to remain present as it rises.
Yet suffering itself can become a remarkable and valuable resource—if only we knew how to stay with it. We are deeply unfamiliar with how to be with our inner tension in a way that allows it to release. This sphere of existence, as I mentioned at the very beginning, feels frightening and unknown to us, and very few people are truly able to dive into the dark depths of their own inner world.
I recall vividly being immersed in the most excruciating psychological and physical rupture of my life. I was struck by how this ache spread into every crevice of my existence, disabling me and erasing any memory of what it felt like to live without the vast darkness pulling me under. It exposed a depth of suffering I could not even begin to put into words.
The intensity of what came into view made distraction impossible. There was no other option but to learn how to stay with what was being activated—and released—from within me.
In most cases, our first instinct is to neglect our hurt and run away from it. For many of us, though, it is only through necessity and persistent practice that we begin to learn how to stay present with the weight of what we are feeling.
When someone appears to be the cause of our misery, they are often only the crucial activator of what was already buried within us. That underlying wound may take on a particular face. It may come from an almost-relationship that never fully took shape, a bond that lasted only briefly, or a long-stretched marriage that ended abruptly. No matter the form, what was awakened was an avalanche of grief.
Whatever that experience is, it cannot be covered, replaced by another person, or escaped through distraction. It must be fully met and felt for its movement to complete—otherwise, it risks circling back endlessly, never truly healed. One of the clearest indications that this process has resolved is the quieting of the incessant thoughts once tied to its activator.
What often appears to be grief over a specific person is, in fact, something far more ancient and primordial than we tend to realize.
What I came to understand is that healing does not require us to escape from the depths. It asks us to remain there long enough for suffering to stop shaping and expressing itself through our relationships—so that the pressure can finally ease.
When the pain is fully met, it no longer calls us back through old memories, faces, or names. Bonds do not dissolve through forgetting or even instant forgiveness, but through completion.
And one day—without any active effort to fight, manage, or outrun those currents—something shifts. The ocean grows quiet. We are no longer drowning. We are no longer being pulled downward by the weight of unresolved suffering.
What once felt overwhelming settles. And in that stillness, life becomes possible again—without the burden we carried for so long.
by Anna Laskowska | Jan 12, 2026
I believe this will be one of the most important articles I write—one that contains essential information for anyone immersed in the dark night of the soul, or for those working with me on processing suffering and wounds. Here, I aim to describe the architecture of a wound: how it is constructed, how it protects itself, and what one might expect while dismantling it.
I wish that every awakening human being had this structure engraved within themselves. If only it were that simple—if healing depended solely on memorizing a framework. But it does not. This process does not rely on memorization; it relies on awareness. And awareness is precisely what becomes compromised once a person enters an emotional storm.
When overwhelm sets in, resistance emerges. It attempts to divert us from clarity and from direct contact with what is actually happening internally. This is why healing is never as simple as “knowing better,” even when the structure itself is intellectually understood.
It is within this context that wounds reveal their inner mechanics. Usually, when we are deeply entangled in a pattern, it unfolds in the following way: imagine that within you there is an energetic core. This core has its own protective intelligence (and within it, there are often multiple smaller, interconnected energetic patterns rather than a single, uniform structure). Thoughts are intrinsically connected to it, and the core generates thoughts associated with suffering—this is simply how the system operates.
What I will describe here is an exaggerated profile based on more difficult cases. The intensity and expression of this process vary from person to person, depending on their level of awareness. Still, internally, the same mechanism plays out in everyone—the difference lies in degree. I describe it in an amplified way for the sake of clarity.
Any thought that arises from suffering usually has a defense structure in place as it enters conscious awareness. A thought carrying negative energy often passes through a kind of internal security checkpoint, where it becomes encased in a reinforced protective shell whose sole function is to prevent that energy from being exposed. In the process of healing, before reaching the core of negative energy, this protective structure must first be broken down.
At this point, it is important to clarify the role of thought itself. Not all thought forms are ego-based, and I want to make this very clear. Some individuals in spiritual communities claim to live a thought-free life, as if that were the ultimate goal of enlightenment. What I am convinced of, at this stage of my journey—after surviving an excruciating dark night of the soul—is that we are not meant to eliminate thought altogether. We are meant to free ourselves from intrusive and insistent thoughts that are painful in nature and that keep us bound to destructive dynamics.
These intrusive thoughts are defended by ego structures operating through various defense mechanisms. They are not random; they are structured, patterned, and highly strategic. The ego functions as a protective organizer, employing a range of defenses to prevent exposure of what lies beneath. Below is a non-exhaustive list of commonly recognized ego defense mechanisms.
Ego defense mechanisms
- Denial — refusing to accept reality or facts
- Repression — unconsciously pushing painful thoughts or feelings out of awareness
- Suppression — consciously choosing not to think about something distressing
- Projection — attributing one’s own unacceptable feelings or traits to others
- Rationalization — creating logical explanations to justify uncomfortable behavior or feelings
- Intellectualization — avoiding emotional distress by focusing on facts or logic
- Displacement — redirecting emotions from a threatening target to a safer one
- Reaction formation — behaving in a way opposite to one’s true feelings
- Regression — reverting to behaviors from an earlier developmental stage
- Compartmentalization — separating conflicting thoughts, feelings, or emotions to avoid inner conflict
- Dissociation — disconnecting from thoughts, feelings, or reality under stress
- Avoidance — steering clear of situations, thoughts, or emotions that cause discomfort
- Sublimation — channeling difficult impulses into constructive or creative activities
- Humor — using wit to cope with discomfort without denying reality
- Anticipation — preparing emotionally for future challenges
- Altruism — dealing with stress by helping others
As unconscious material draws closer to awareness, these defenses often intensify. Usually, right before confronting any destructive pattern or energetic core, an individual may resort to verbal tactics or elaborate explanations in order to avoid exposure. The ones I have most commonly encountered in my experience are projection, scapegoating, blame, shaming, externalization, splitting, and moralization. In more severe cases, these defenses appear as an explosive and aggressive constellation, emerging just before one reaches the core of negative energy that needs to be dismantled.
This escalation typically occurs when someone is deeply unconscious and their access to emotions is strained. People often arrive at this point after enduring a great deal of hurt, without having any idea how to process negative emotions. In my opinion, many people struggle with genuine healing precisely because this dimension of our existence is largely ignored and therefore neglected. I myself could hardly believe this when I first became aware of it.
Because conscious access to emotions—due to a lack of understanding and adequate tools—is blocked, negativity becomes internalized. Over time, this can lead to existential depression, anxiety, or other chronic conditions.
The reason is simple: there is no release for the negative energies circulating within one’s being. What often accompanies these defense mechanisms is anger. Once confrontation takes place, a very violent outburst of anger may arise and, depending on the individual, may then transform into resentment—along with other intense emotional states such as sadness, hopelessness, blame, and humiliation, as reflected in David Hawkins’ scale of consciousness.
From what I have experienced, every single wound follows the same architecture. This is how they are constructed. For further clarification, I would compare these energetic cores to living entities—something that wants to survive. This is precisely why they develop such a protective shell.
Each energetic pattern is powerful, as it has the capacity to create a reality that is not benign. It always produces suffering in one form or another. As briefly and clearly as possible, I have described here what I consistently observed while going through the process of dismantling these energies.
Finally, I want to emphasize that these are not illusory concepts. Each energetic pattern creates a distinct paradigm in this world and can be clearly identified and named. That, however, is a subject for another post.
by Anna Laskowska | Jan 12, 2026
During deep inner processes, particularly in what is often referred to as a dark night of the soul, I began to notice recurring patterns in the nature of emotional wounds and the ways in which they reveal themselves.
Each of us carries emotional wounds within us—some closer to the surface and easily accessible to awareness, others pushed deep inside over time. These wounds do not disappear on their own.
Each wound can remain dormant within the body until the conditions for its emergence are met, resurfacing either by recreating its corresponding scenario or by being reactivated when that scenario is encountered again.
These emotional wounds, often held as energetic imprints within the body, do not remain contained. They project outward and quietly shape the emotional and physical reality we experience as painful, destabilizing, or confusing.
At times, an emotional wound becomes activated within a relationship, often through an abrupt rupture, a sudden loss, or other relational dynamics that destabilize a person’s sense of safety and connection.
Often, we encounter another person whose sensitivity or personal history unknowingly resonates with our own unresolved emotional material. In such moments—particularly during or after a breakup—what was previously invisible becomes felt: a reaction arises, an emotion surfaces, tension appears in the body. This does not happen because someone is “breaking our heart,” but because two compatible layers of lived emotional experience come into contact and are activated through interaction.
Although similar in nature, these wounds may express themselves very differently: one person may cling to what initially felt like an intense bond, while the other instinctively withdraws. This dynamic is often described in spiritual discourse under the concept of twin flames. In psychological frameworks, similar patterns are understood through attachment dynamics and trauma bonding.
There are also situations in which a person has had little access to feeling for a long time. Many people become highly skilled at distracting themselves from their emotional life. Relationships, in particular, can unconsciously function as a form of distraction or emotional numbing, often without either person realizing it.
As a result, emotions are suppressed over time. The mind may disengage, but the body quietly keeps the record, and emotional responses become flattened. In such cases, the process does not begin with “solving a problem,” but with restoring the capacity to feel what has been repeatedly suppressed.
Whether a person chooses to undo this numbing process or remain within it depends on their free will, individual path, and stage of awareness.
