by Anna Laskowska | Jan 14, 2026
I am well aware that there is a vast amount of material on the dark night of the soul. Many people are going through it, and I am certain that most who have experienced it would agree that it is unlike anything else.
At this point, we understand it as an event initiated by some form of collapse—followed by a profound disconnection from the life one once knew and an inward turn into a kind of hermit mode, driven by the need to survive the existential rupture this experience evokes.
Over the past twenty years, I have been through numerous dark nights of the soul. It began with an hour of being completely “switched off,” if that makes sense. When one is accustomed to constant access to a functioning mind and suddenly finds that access entirely cut off, the experience is unforgettable.
It started as a miniature dark night, and over time, its duration gradually lengthened, preparing me for a much more prolonged dark night of the soul. By then, I was already becoming familiar with—and, in some sense, prepared for—being gradually disconnected from ordinary life. Very little in a true dark night of the soul resembles what we would call a regular life.
I will not disclose how long this particularly intense period of somatic release lasted, as I have no intention of frightening anyone. What I will say is that it spanned years and required total dedication to understanding and expelling the patterns of negativity that exist within this reality. It was complete hermit mode.
What is essential to clarify is that a true dark night of the soul—despite its poetic name—is more accurately described as a purgatory. After remaining in this process for so long, it became clear to me that what I was undergoing was a cleansing. It felt as though the very essence of existential suffering was being purged from my body, and it was anything but graceful or pleasant.
While this was happening, there was no one around. There were no parties. There were no conversations. Any contact with the world was painful. There were no drugs or alcohol involved. Even food could not be used as a numbing agent—everything tasted like cardboard anyway. Nor was there any form of relational or sensual distraction available to soften, bypass, or momentarily forget what was taking place. Nothing could be used to regulate or soothe the experience away.
There was nothing that could divert my attention from the process that was taking place within me.
My entire existence became focused on what was unfolding within me. And if people appeared at all, it was only to expose deeper layers of pain and the negative patterns in which I was entangled.
What I want to make absolutely clear is this: suffering is often mistaken for purging, and they are not the same. Going through pain, enduring distress, or waiting for something to happen to you is not what processing is about. Pain, on its own, does not heal anything.
True processing is not passive. It does not rely on collapse, endurance, or prolonged misery. It requires awareness, presence, and the capacity to remain in contact with what is arising without being overtaken by it. Without these elements, pain simply circulates within the system, reinforcing the very patterns one hopes to dissolve.
This is why many people remain stuck in cycles of suffering despite years of “inner work.” The system may be activated, but nothing is being metabolized. Purging, when it is genuine, is an intelligent and precise process. It involves the gradual dismantling of defensive structures, the safe exposure of what has been protected, and the release of energy that has been bound within those patterns.
When this distinction is not understood, suffering becomes normalized, even spiritualized. But suffering is not the goal. Clarity is. Integration is. Liberation—from both emotional suffering and physical pain.
In the next piece, I will go deeper into naming these energetic patterns and the paradigms they create, so they can be recognized—not mythologized—and consciously dismantled.
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 11, 2026
In this context, I use the word grace to describe cultivated behaviors and attitudes—the ways we learn to act, respond, and present ourselves in the world.
When I was younger, I believed that collecting certain attitudes and replicating noble behaviors would be enough to create a happy life. I thought that if I imitated specific reactions and kept my surroundings neat and organized, it would somehow propel me forward into the life I dreamed of.
There was nothing inherently wrong with the way I was trying to live. I valued order, organization, and what I understood as good attitudes and proper behavior. Yet even as I did my best to uphold them, my inner world grew increasingly turbulent, and outside circumstances began to arise that disrupted, stalled, or undermined what I was working to maintain.
Very soon, situations were no longer just external events; they became highly charged emotional experiences that shook me to my core. What also became evident was that these intense emotional surges interfered with my cognitive functioning and, at times, seemed to take over my life in very strange ways.
At first, it was difficult to manage the expectations of everyday, physical life while simultaneously trying to navigate something so powerful and deeply painful. It felt as though I had been abruptly awakened into an emotional realm I did not understand. Those years were hard to manage. At the time, I did not know how to help myself, so I carried everything inside me as best as I could, waiting for the violent sensations to subside—only for them to resurface again and again. In hindsight, it is now very clear to me what was truly happening.
In the past, whenever I felt overly stimulated, it was mostly just me, alone, trying to make sense of life as a whole. Today, I understand why certain stretches of time were preparing me for a prolonged period of facing intense, emotionally charged sensations that occupied my entire body. I spent years in arduous labor, confronting energetic patterns that disrupted the refined behaviors and attitudes I was so determined to uphold.
I eventually realized that building a good, peaceful, and meaningful life had to be done from the inside out. Although approaching it intellectually—forming concepts and trying to live by them—was not a mistake, it was never sufficient on its own. Still, it was a necessary step.
As I went deeper into inner work, it became clear that graceful actions alone were not enough; they needed to be infused with inner presence, so that a life can rest on and be sustained by a stable foundation.
