In the Eye of the Storm: Learning to Navigate Trauma Without False Saviours

Yesterday, during a conversation with a friend, she told me I was standing in the eye of the storm—that everyone around me could see me struggling to find a way out. Perhaps she was right. Every option I consider seems to lead to a dead end. And yet, I have not lost hope.

I have come to understand that my struggles are heavy for people to hold. I have also learned that help is rarely unconditional. More often than not, it comes attached to expectations—of gratitude, indebtedness, and control. What begins as support slowly transforms into harm: mental, emotional, and sometimes even physical possession.

So I am learning to sail my ship through storms on my own.

I no longer seek rescue from those who harmed me in the name of helping. Over the course of my life, I have been manipulated by women and harassed by men—each promising to save me from my troubles while demanding authority over my choices in return. Those days are over.

There was a time when one could express emotions freely without being labelled “overreactive” or “triggered.” Today, everyone acknowledges triggers, yet very few are willing to take accountability for the actions or omissions that cause them. Responsibility has been replaced by blame.

The word trigger entered my vocabulary only last year. I accepted that some of my reactions were rooted in past wounds—and I took responsibility for them. But the people whose behaviour caused those triggers showed no remorse. Instead, they focused on my flaws while absolving themselves entirely.

It takes two to tango. Healing cannot happen when one person reflects and the other only deflects. We now describe this imbalance with psychological labels like “anxious-avoidant attachment,” but labels do not replace respect.

Anyone who respects another human being will communicate.

People can be busy—communicate.
People can overthink—communicate.

The solution is simple. Yet we avoid it. Instead, we justify emotional absence through “psychological shifts” or “planetary alignments,” while refusing to create safe spaces for one another.

The spiritual upliftment we see on social media today is largely performative. It is curated for engagement, not embodiment. True spiritualism begins with recognising that every person around us is also a creation of the universe—equally worthy of dignity.

If I believe I am a child of God, then so is the one standing before me.

I do not have the right to guide another unless they seek it themselves. Wisdom cannot be imposed. Half-knowledge, forced onto someone under the assumption of superiority, only exposes ignorance. A true teacher lives the philosophy they preach—and disciples follow by choice, not coercion.

We are now twenty-six years into the twenty-first century, desperate to assert spiritual authority in a world already convinced it has found God. The Gita foretold this age—Kali Yuga—where many would preach spirituality, and truth would be buried beneath chaos.

We are witnessing it already.

It is deeply unsettling to learn about God from those who cannot respect people, yet insist they love the divine.