Why am I only now able to write and find the courage to share my story? It’s because I finally realize that everything that happened—even the darkest parts—was a life lesson. For twenty years, I stayed silent because I saw my struggles as a source of shame; I was still holding onto anger and hadn't found peace. But standing where I am today, I want to share how I transformed that pain into stillness. I know that with God’s help, I can stand tall now, letting the past flow away as I walk toward brighter days.
Many people called me a fool for willingly paying off the massive debts left by my children's father. Back then, I agreed that I felt like a fool, and it made me so angry that I even blamed God. But today, I choose to be grateful to everyone who called me 'stupid.' Because of them, I turned to Him in prayer. God has been so good to me, providing unexpected paths for money to flow in so I can support my children. I no longer regret my 'foolishness.' I see now that it was through those moments that God showed me His love, helping me grow into someone better
I used to think betrayal was the cruelest thing that could happen to me; now, I’m grateful it happened because it liberated me. I’m stepping into a new, calmer version of myself. I’ve learned from the days when I just accepted things without asking why, stayed silent instead of speaking up, and just went through the motions of life without trying to change for the better.
I used to view my mother as the source of a forced marriage, I now see her as my spiritual teacher. I am shedding the weight of the bitterness, the letdowns, and the regrets that followed my failed marriage, and reclaiming them as growth for my soul. Out of a tragedy I never expected to face—from within that dark, hidden room, out of my Pandora box; I finally learned how to have a true conversation with God.
I used to be angry that my love wasn't reciprocated, but today I am beyond grateful because I finally understand how much God truly loves me. Through the example of His Messenger, I’ve learned to be patient and to stay loyal and committed to my faith.
God, thank You for being with me this far and for staying with me when I felt unseen. Thank You for loving me, even when I was chasing after people who couldn't love me back truthfully. Thank You for every lesson this life has taught me. Please, keep me always in Your love.
I used to believe that my silence was my shield, and my shame was my story. For twenty years, I carried the weight of a story I was too afraid to tell. Now, I share it not as a victim of the past, but as a witness to God's mercy. I have traded my anger for serenity and my betrayal for a deeper faithfulness. I am no longer the woman who accepts without questioning or stays silent in the face of truth. I am a soul that has been schooled by life, refined by fire, and finally set free. The past has flowed away, the debts are paid in grace, and I walk forward—peaceful, upright, and forever held in His love.
To anyone who thinks they are 'foolish' for loving or giving too much. please know that God sees your heart and provides from paths you cannot yet see. My journey through the dark has led me to the most beautiful morning. I am finally home, in His love.
This is my story of forgiving journey. Of course, it's not easy. It is still unfolding. Some days I am strong. Other days, I am not. Day by day, I am learning . But I am no longer waiting for others to change. I am changing myself. I am growing myself. I am becoming the woman I was always meant to be—not despite the pain, but because of what I learned in walking through it.
My journal writing in October 2020
Before marriage, I didn't even know what unhappiness was. I didn't recognize it, I couldn't define it since I saw my father and mother were harmonious. But during my own marriage, I didn't understand what happiness actually looked like. It was so different from the man who chased me and the man I married. I truly no longer recognized him as a husband. After deciding to accept him— to marriage for about 20 years—I was very obedient to him and his family. I tried to stay silent regardless of the problem, not wanting to disturb his work because I could solve all financial problems myself.
Eventually, he became too comfortable. Every time there was a shortage of money, he would distance himself, as if he didn't want to know, as if it wasn't his responsibility. He never asked if I could pay for this or that. There was no such habit in his life. In his mind, it seemed there was only his own business, his work, and his friendships. He rarely asked how the kids were doing at school, if the fees were paid, or how much was needed for their activities. It was a pipe dream to expect him to ask.
I was considered faithful, responsible, and dedicated as the meaning of names given by my parents.. I am loyal in everything. I was loyal to him, too. I considered myself as an independent woman, and a hard worker. I never asked for his money for my needs for nineteen years. But when I realized how easy he was about the needs of his children, I started thinking something was wrong with my household. Especially when life became chaotic and prosperity was destroyed—that's when the relationship heated up.
All matters of the children, the household, and finances were mine alone. Even though I also worked with a decent position and good social status, my own schedule was incredibly busy. At first, I felt it was fine. But eventually, when I ran short, I was confused about where to ask for help. Often, I had to go into debt here and there for family needs, for food, for the children's school fees. Actually, I didn't care whose money it was; I was happy to pay for my kids' school. But when I had no money, I got anxious, having to scramble for loans just to buy rice and daily food.
Meanwhile, the man only complained about his office, so I felt hesitant to tell him about the problems I faced with the kids or his family—who, for God's sake, were too much. I remember one afternoon, he complained again about his massive workload, making it feel inappropriate for me to ask about the bills from my siblings that we used to pay off old debts. He hated being asked, "How is it, have you gotten the loan from A, B, or C?" Just asking that made him sulk—even though that was part of his responsibility as the head of the household. He was indifferent and silent; he didn't ask how I managed to pay it. If not paid, the children couldn't take their exams. He just complained, stayed silent, and acted innocent, as if he'd done nothing wrong. But if provoked even slightly, he exploded with emotion, always saying, "Fine, I'm a bad husband, can't provide for the family, I'm a piece of sh*t, irresponsible, I'm the one who's too much!" "I'm always wrong, you're always right, you're never at fault, I admit you're the most perfect one!" "My body is broken, too much work, targets aren't met, everyone is hounding me, I'm hectic!"
He used all sorts of negative words. I understood this for a long time, which was why I became reluctant to tell him anything or ask him for anything. Because it always ended with him feeling like the victim, even though it was his own fault. If I reminded him, he sometimes turned physical: slamming doors until they broke, then not caring who fixed them or whose money was used to replace what was broken.
This man was truly remarkable. He wanted to be understood, always wanted to be empathized with, but rarely cared about his wife and children. Yes, I realized I had many flaws and mistakes; I still needed to learn too. But I was self-aware enough not to beg for his attention, not to ask for this and that, and not to blame him. All negative things were actually from his own thoughts, not from my words. He assumed I was blaming him. My intention was simply to remind him to be vigilant—not to waste time as we aged, not to be idle just because his problems were settled while the settling of the house was done by me and kids. He had it easy: free from household duties, free from chores, rarely asked to help with the little kids. He had zero initiative to help his wife and kids when they were cleaning the house.
Lord, it hurt so much to see a forty-five-year-old man whose thinking was still immature. He should have been grateful to have smart sons who helped their mother clean the house, who looked for loans here and there because they couldn't bear to see their mother crying hysterically, who took care of their younger siblings' daily and school needs, who drove their mother and siblings around, and who independently managed their own school supplies without ever asking their father for help.
My children were truly wonderful and bright. They seemed to understand their mother's difficulties perfectly; they always helped, asking, "Mom, what do we need to buy?" If I was sad, they even gave me their allowance to buy rice, instant noodles, tempeh, tofu, and eggs for us to eat. Has the man ever asked about his children's basic needs? My answer was rarely, I could count it on one hand.
For over 2 decades, I never blamed a man I married due to my mother’s wish. I never exposed his family. I never complained to him when he was stationed out of town. I kept the bad behavior of his family tightly hidden from him, from my own family, even from my father. I couldn't bring myself to reveal those secrets, until finally, my mental defenses broke. I had carried the weight of his responsibilities, his family's judgments, his emotional immaturity, and my own silent suffering. I had carried it for so long that I forgot it was even there. I thought this was simply what marriage was. I thought this was simply who I was.
The hardest part of my journey was not the suffering itself. It was the silence I had to maintain around it. Every time I tried to speak, he would deflect. And so I learned to be silent. I learned to bury my pain deep inside, a practice my culture calls mendem njero—burying it deep. I told myself: let it be. Forget it. Move on. But the wound does not heal when it is buried. It festers. It grows. It becomes something you cannot name but something you carry every single day.
Knowledge about forgiving
Letting go is the only way to find relief. Carrying a grudge is like holding a heavy stone that only tires me. True peace comes when the memory of a painful event no longer triggers anger or a desire for revenge. Thus, I consider focusing on the physical and emotional sensation of heaviness. During the meditation, Bunda Arsaningsih assists me to imagine putting down the weight I have been carrying for years. By cleaning these old wounds, I reclaim the mental and emotional energy that had been stolen by my focus on the past.
Sincere forgiveness often requires a strength beyond human capability. The video shows turning to a higher power (God) to soften the heart. It reflects on the idea that as humans seek forgiveness for their own mistakes, they should also strive to be a source of mercy for others. Accepting that the past cannot be changed is the first step toward moving forward. Forgiveness can happen without reconciliation. We can forgive someone in your heart while still maintaining distance for your own safety or mental health.
Bunda Arsaningsih also emphasizes that gratitude (bersyukur) is the natural companion to forgiveness. If forgiveness is the act of emptying the heart of poison, gratitude is the act of refilling it with light so the bitterness doesn't find its way back in. She suggests that when we are busy counting our blessings, we have less time to count our wounds. Gratitude protects the cleansed heart by focusing on what remains— children, achievement, ability to create music—meaning create a shield that prevents the old narrative of being a victim from taking hold again.
Learning from my children
My children taught me something I had forgotten. They taught me that love is not about what you receive. It is about what you give freely, without expectation. They gave me their allowance without asking for anything in return. They helped me clean the house without being asked. They could not bear to see their mother crying. In their giving, I learned to forgive. Because I saw that even in the midst of my suffering, God gave me other beautiful things:
I had raised children who knew how to love
I had raised children who knew how to give
I had raised children who understood that family means showing up for each other, even when it is hard
Perhaps that was the purpose of my suffering. Perhaps they were His gifts hidden inside the pain. Now I can only strive to grow better, pray well, and affirm well, so that in the future, my household life will be peaceful until the end of my days.
Indeed, I was born alone, and I will return alone. I am learning not to worry about what their father is like.
These are the lessons I will carry with me. Forgiveness is not about him. It is about releasing myself from the prison of resentment. Silence is not healing. Burying the wound only makes it fester. True healing requires exposing the wound to the light. Karma is not punishment. It is complete. It is the opportunity to finish what I started so I can move forward.
Peace is not something he can give me. It is something I must cultivate within myself, regardless of him. I was born alone and I will return alone. But the journey between those two points is mine to shape. Not his. Not his family's.
I do not know when I will find happiness in my marriage. Perhaps that is not the right question anymore. The better question is: When will I find peace within myself, regardless of my marriage? And the answer is: I am finding it now. One thread at a time. One day at a time. One breath at a time.
I have forgiven him. Not because he asked. Not because he changed. Not because he deserves it. I have forgiven him because I deserve to stop carrying this weight. I have forgiven him because the resentment was a rope tying me to the past, and I want to be free to walk into the future. I have forgiven him because I understand now that his inability to love me the was needed was never about my worth. It was about his capacity that was never mine to fix. I have forgiven him because I have accepted that the pain I feel now is the echo of pain I once caused, and by forgiving him, I am forgiving myself.
This is my history, my long journey to live healthier. If I am reading this one day, I recognize my own journey, know this. I am not alone in my loneliness. The peace I am searching for is not waiting for anyone else to give it to me. It is already within me, waiting to be uncovered, one tangled thread at a time.
Forgiveness will not come in a single moment. It will come in waves. Some days I will totally feel free. Other days the old hurt may return. But I will not judge myself for either. This is my process.
Be patient with myself. Be kind to myself.
I have been doing the hardest work.
I have been healing wounds that no one else can see.
I have been growing my soul, thread by thread, day by day.
One day, I will wake up and realize that the weight is lighter, the rope has loosened. I am no longer tied to the person who hurt you, because I have finally learned to stand on my own.
From 2025, I was finally taking the pen back. My narrative was no longer stolen; I was surrendering it to peace. I learned to accept that the pain I felt now was equivalent to the pain I had caused in a past life. This was not a punishment from God. It was the natural law of cause and effect. It was the universe's way of giving me the opportunity to complete what I had started.
Recently, I watched a video and found it insightful. The video opens by acknowledging that forgiveness is one of the hardest things a human can do, especially when the wound is deep [00:00:46]. Importantly, forgiving doesn't mean forgetting what happened or saying the action was right. Rather, it means choosing not to let that a bad event control one's emotions [00:01:21]. Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. Resentment only destroys the person harboring it [00:02:14].
Forgiveness is a spiritual strength. Human logic often fails at forgiveness, so one must ask God for a "wide heart" to let go sincerely [00:04:18]. God's love, light, and energy can now be used for one's growth and happiness [00:05:42]. I notice that once I forgive, I regain the energy that my anger had stolen and experience the lightness of heart that follows the decision to forgive [00:07:10]. Bunda Arsaningsih suggests that truly forgiving someone can be hard, and that sometimes one might need help, such as turning to the Supreme One for support. It also points out that asking for forgiveness for my own mistakes is similar to showing mercy to others. While I cannot control what people do to me, I have 100% control over how long I allow their actions to hurt me. This is called letting go.
The video also acknowledges that emotional pain is real and that some actions are truly wrong. Forgiving someone does not mean excusing their behavior or approving of what happened. It also points out that holding onto resentment can hurt my well-being. By choosing to forgive, I can stop past experiences from affecting you and start to take back control of your future. The focus shifts to forgiveness as an act of self-love. I forgive so that I can be free, not necessarily because the other person deserves it [00:03:02].
Then, the meditation in the video is about letting go of old hurts and feelings. It helps me notice the anger or bitterness I have been holding onto. It asks me to picture the person or event that caused my pain. It helps me let go of the anger, which is described as poison, and imagine it leaving my heart so it stops hurting me. The grudges are as a heavy stone I have been carrying. The meditation asks me to picture putting down this weight I have carried for years. By letting go of these old hurts, I regain the mental and emotional energy I lost by dwelling on the past. It encourages me to look at the painful years not just as stolen time, but as a period that produced strength.
Instead of just mourning the 24 years, It invites me to be grateful for the resilience I developed. I survived, I thrived academically, and I raised my good children. Gratitude turns those "in vain" feelings into a story of survival.
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My reflection on forgiving
I wrote these reflections in 2021. Feeling alone, disappointed, and unhappy. These are the words I felt most often during my twenty years of marriage. How did I survive? I don't know. The dogma in my brain said it's already done; it must be lived through until the end. I had read the teachings, shared with friends, and done numerous hypnotherapies. But again, I ended with enormous questions without answers.
It was late at night. My room was silent, except for the rhythmic hum of rain against the window. This sound usually brought me back to the gray skies of Sydney, and to the cold heaviness of a life that felt like it belonged to everyone but me. "Gusti Allah," I prayed, my voice barely more than a breath: "Sempitkan lukaku, luaskan hatiku." Narrow my wounds, widen my heart.
I began to visualize my stolen narrative: the years of silence, the 1997 goodbye forced on me by my mother’s command, the feeling of spiritual stain, the merging of my energy with a prostitute's, the debts that were not mine, and all the hidden stories. I realized that by forgiving my mother, by forgiving the version of myself who did not know how to say 'no' for years, and by forgiving the one who stole my narrative.
The first year after meeting Bunda Arsaningsih, I spent time in trying to realize, dive deep, and accept all the bad things as they were, without rejection. I hoped to find a solution to our relationship soon. I did not regret what had happened. I would patiently accept it while continuing to improve myself so that I might find a more harmonious life. Every moment, I cleaned the karma and cursed him and his family, asking for forgiveness and forgiving them. I did not know when I would find happiness in my marriage. I would simply live it without being attached to the result.
I once believed forgiveness was something you gave to others—an absolution, a pardon, letting them off the hook. Over time, I learned that true forgiveness is not about the other person at all. Rather, it's the choice to stop carrying what was never meant to be yours. True forgiveness is realizing that holding onto anger and hurt punishes only yourself, not the person who wronged you.
One day, when I randomly opened the Soul Reflection book, the following words found me:
When someone can become peaceful, they will be able to see the root of the problem. Take time to be in silence, releasing and unraveling the tangled threads we possess one by one. Continue to give meaning to this life with depth of understanding so that the process of soul maturation can continue to grow
In that moment, I felt the journey I had been on was seen and understood. It was as if the words were written for me. In the silence I had been forced into—the silence of not being heard, not being seen, not being asked—I was slowly learning to see the root of the problem. Not in him. Not in his family. In me. In the tangled threads I possessed. In the karma, I was here to resolve.
I began to understand that forgiveness was not a single act. It was a process. It was unraveling, one thread at a time, the knots that had bound me to my pain. Some days, I would pull a thread and feel it loosen. Other days, it would tighten again. But I kept going. I kept unraveling.
I learned to accept that the pain I felt now was equivalent to the pain I had caused in a past life. This was not a punishment from a vengeful God. It was the natural law of cause and effect. It was the universe's way of giving me the opportunity to complete what I had started. I would keep resolving past-life karma and curses to the best of my capacity. Slowly, I would strive to pay off the karmic debt to erode the bad karma.
This understanding changed everything. Not because it made the suffering easier—it did not. But because it gave the suffering meaning. I was not a victim. I was a student. I was not being punished. I was being given the chance to learn. I was not trapped. I was completing. And in that completion, I found the strength to forgive. Not because he deserved it. But because I deserved to be free. This is the story of how, over those two decades, I slowly learned to forgive anyway. Not because he deserved it, nor because he asked for it, but because I deserved peace. As I discovered, peace was not waiting for him to change; instead, peace was waiting for me to let go.
I was deeply touched by a woman’s story about not being loved, which she shared during Bunda Arsaningsih's "Tata Hati" session in Melbourne. I never met her, but I knew her sadness affected me deeply. It made me realize how energy can connect people, including me. Even more so when she said that love is nothing but heartacheIt’s the exact same thing I asked when I first met Bunda Arsaningsih back in 2020, I’ve watched this video many times because her pain reminds me of my own feelings of being unloved. This blog's purpose is not to place blame but to share my personal experience as a way to process and find healing. I want to share the knowledge and tools that helped me deal with the pain of feeling unloved.
For nearly 30 years, I carried the ache of feeling unloved. My mother tore me from someone I cherished and, haunted by her own illness, urged me into marriage at 24. The pain deepened with my ex-boyfriend, whose unwillingness to fight for us made me feel invisible. Later, the man I married shattered what trust remained, his infidelity with numerous women and prostitutes after 21 years together leaving me utterly alone. Even though I poured my heart and soul into him, I still felt achingly unloved. I worked desperately to love him and carried him from nothing to a high-ranking role. For my mother, I gave up everything—selling homes, land, and cars—to cover his debts, which still haunt me. All of this pain has carved a deep trauma into my life.
Returning to the video, the session is about mental and spiritual well-being through meditation and the Soul Meter method. Bunda Arsaningsih describes "Tata Hati" as organizing feelings and energy to align with divine laws. She says that human love often brings pain when based on dependency, but divine love provides strength and peace. Bunda Arsaningsih introduces Soul Reflection meditation to maintain mental health, release negative emotions, and strengthen the connection with God [05:07, 09:00]. She presents her Soul Meter technique for identifying energetic patterns in people and places, explaining that everything, including cities like Melbourne, consists of energy. She describes Melbourne as generally peaceful but with lingering soul records of anger, particularly related to Indigenous Aboriginal history [07:31, 31:32].
A central theme of her teaching is karma and reincarnation. Everyone’s current quality of life is shaped by their soul records from past lives. She discusses the Law of sowing and reaping (tabur tuai), suggesting that current suffering or joy results from past actions [11:42, 13:49]. Addressing the spiritual anatomy, Bunda explains that humans have five dimensions of the body, including the physical, prana (energy/aura), mind (emotions), mental (psyche), and soul (spiritual records). She uses these to demonstrate how trapped emotions, such as anger, can negatively impact physical health, specifically the liver [58:06, 01:00:52].
Soul Meter can be applied to real-life cases. A meditation participant named Putu shares her story of living in Melbourne for 16 years, experiencing a failed marriage, and the trauma of losing loved ones in her youth. Bunda uses the Soul Meter to show that Putu carries deep-seated feelings of "not being loved" and "being abandoned," which act as energetic magnets attracting similar painful experiences. After an energetic process (Soul Reflection Meditation), Putu's energy field shows significant improvement in health and heart-centered radiation [00:49:55 - 01:19:04].
I tried Soul Meter, measuring my thoughts, and cleansed them using the Workshop of Soul Meter (WSM) protocols. I identified my longing to be loved by my mother, husband, and ex-boyfriend. In 2020, Bunda measured that I carried 40 kilometers of anger toward my mother. As my psychiatrists said, my thoughts were mainly shaped by her. I was confused. I didn’t know how to see my anger. Physically, I felt fine, so my mind rejected their assessments since I couldn’t see the anger.
In the video, Bunda explained how people often ignore their inner condition (kondisi batin). This inner condition is what I eventually researched further—what is the inner self actually like [22:09]. The physical form is visible, but the inner condition of a person is invisible in terms of energy [22:19]. As she studied energy, I finally realized—oh, it turns out the human body [22:29] consists of five dimensions [22:35].
For years, I felt stuck and wounded inside(luka batin) because I focused only on physical problems—the debt, school fees, broken doors, his irresponsibility. I never saw my mental state. I saw my psychiatrist in Sydney for four years, but still felt confused. The Soul Meter offers me another perspective:
I felt most loved by my mother at 5.2 points in 1996, but this declined to 2.2 in 1997 and 1.2 in 1998, when she asked me to break up with my ex-boyfriend without a good reason. Between 1997 and 1999, I felt overwhelmed as my mother pushed me to marry a man from Pesantren as part of an agreement with her university classmate (my eventual mother-in-law).
In 1998, my mother was diagnosed with cancer and hospitalized until 2001. My sense of being loved dropped to 0.3 in 2001 when I married. I felt unloved for about a decade, entering my life as a servant without his help. It’s no surprise my anger measured 40 kilometers.
In the video, Bunda advises using forgiveness to address difficult relationships and to seek forgiveness to resolve karmic debt. If issues persist after three attempts, it is spiritually acceptable to part ways lovingly [01:35:19 - 01:37:42]. During my anger-cleansing in 2020, Bunda guided me to forgive my mother and ask for her forgiveness, even though she had passed away. She explained that energy transcends space and time, so this process could unfold energetically through meditation with my mind and soul.
By 2023, I finally understood that my lifelong feeling of being unloved was a deep-rooted trauma affecting many of my relationships. This realization helped me see the core issue I needed to heal. Based on SM, I can begin cleansing my disappointment, anger, feeling unloved, and other emotions by using the power of God's energy, so that my inner self can be more at peace. Next, I check the intensity of these feelings again and continue cleansing them until the values are small or reach zero.
As seen in the table, another trauma stemmed from my ex-boyfriend. When I told him we had to break up in 1997 at my mother’s request, he remained silent. Years later, in November 2022, during my healing process, my hypnotherapist urged me to talk to him and ask for forgiveness, hoping it would ease my depression. My ex-boyfriend was my classmate and best friend in high school (1992-1994), lovers, and broke up in 1997. He was also my husband's close friend from high school. In November 2022, as part of my healing, my husband called him and created a Telegram group. For about a year, we spoke openly about our past and current experiences.
Through these conversations, I learned that love can mean sacrificial release. My ex-boyfriend explained: I want you to get someone better than me. Isn't that proof of letting go so the one I love can be better'? Indeed, his revealed his selfless love, while I had felt unfought for. On the other hand, he believed withdrawing was his ultimate act of caring, so I could thrive. Reading his words made me realize that his actions were motivated by a desire for my happiness and devotion to my mother, a perspective I hadn't understood for almost three decades. I now interpret his love as a selfless sacrifice, meaning of sincere acceptance (iklhas).
In my experience, my wrong way of thinking greatly influences what kind of life I lead. Since I focused more on not being loved by two I loved most (my mother and my ex boyfriend), the reality come up with a bad moment where people called my husband truly did not love me (indicating with the facts of his cheating with numerous women and prostitutes, of not giving attention to me as wife and his children, and his absence of financial responsibilities at home).
In the video, Bunda Arsaningsih addresses whether someone who is currently stressed or angry can not participate in spiritual service (such as sending love to others). When someone is experiencing anger, it may be more challenging to show love. If one’s internal state includes anger, that is likely the negative energy shared with others [40:54 - 41:12]. From this, I understood why I could not live happily with the man I married, my children, students, and relatives. Instead, I always felt dumb around them and not loved by them. Thus, I could not smile at them, as I had long-term anger hidden in my heart.
Building on this, Bunda introduces the “Happiness 10” condition. This represents a state where the Heart Chakra is fully developed and open. Continuing from the importance of the Heart Chakra, Bunda describes it as the essential key to opening the Crown Chakra that serves as the gateway through which God’s energy enters the human body. However, if the Heart Chakra is blocked by a lack of love or anger, this, in turn, keeps the connection to the Crown Chakra closed, preventing the flow of Divine energy. These energy states—whether the heart is open or blocked—are not just theoretical; they can be identified and measured using the Soul Matter method [41:43 - 42:03].
Reflecting on my experiences, the framework that I captured on the table above explains why I felt so emotionally and physically drained during those 21 years, because I was attempting to care for him out of obligation while suppressing unresolved anger and past trauma. My Heart Chakra was likely struggling to open fully. How could I support my family while my own emotions and energy remained blocked by the luka batin (deep inner wounds).
Of course, I find it difficult to understand all of these burdens for a few years. But again, I am learning and developing my psychological understanding through various sources, including videos by Bunda Arsaningsih, so I can accept all of this peacefully. I don’t want to blame others anymore; I want to reflect on my own mistakes, focus on finding my true self, fix my wrong thoughts, and prepare myself to go to the HOME where God awaits me.
