When the Storm Settled, I Heard the Truth

I was crying because I felt completely controlled by my emotions and thoughts.

Especially anger.

It felt like my remote was in someone else’s hand — one situation, one sentence, one disappointment, and I would loose myself.

My hopes had shattered again. And the familiar noise started playing in my head:

They don’t value me. I’m not important. I don’t matter.

The mind kept repeating it — confidently, relentlessly — while I sat there crying, staring out of the window, exhausted from trying to hold myself together.

I wasn’t trying to regulate myself. I wasn’t trying to calm down. I wasn’t looking for answers.

I just stayed.

And then something very quiet happened.

A simple though surfaced — not dramatic, not loud:

The universe has never excluded you from giving oxygen.

That stopped me.

Existence itself has never said, “I won’t give you breath because you’re not worthy.”

No matter how small I felt. No matter how angry or broken I was. Breath kept coming.

And a natural question followed:

If something this vast isn’t excluding me…then who is telling me, again and again, that I’m not valued?

The answer wasn’t outside.

It wasn’t today. It wasn’t this situation. It wasn’t event the people I was angry with.

It was my own mind.

An old tape. A familiar sentence. Something that had been playing for a long time.

When the outer chaos finally settled — when there were no arguments to respond to, no fires to manage, not battles to fight — I could finally see what was happening inside me.

These thoughts weren’t reactions to the present moment. They were running on their own.

Quietly. Persistently. Draining my energy.

In that stillness, it became obvious — this wasn’t a random thought. It wasn’t truth revealing itself.

It was conditioning.

What changed that day wasn’t positivity. It was awareness.

And I realised something important: my most vulnerable moment — the one that felt like breaking — was also the moment my awareness opened enough to hear something new.

As Rumi also said —  “You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.”

That line finally made sense to me.

My heart wasn’t breaking to destroy me. It was breaking just enough to let clarity in.

Because when I stopped resisting the pain, when I stopped trying to stay composed, something softer and truer could be heard beneath the noise.

For the first time, I didn’t argue with the thought. I didn’t try to replace it. I didn’t tell myself it shouldn’t be there.

I just noticed it.

And something else landed quietly:

If my mind learned this once, it can learn something else now.

Not instantly. Not forcefully. But consciously.

So throughout the day, every time the old line appeared — “You are not valued” — I reminded myself:

This is an old recording. Not a current reality.

Some realisations don’t feel dramatic. The don’t make you happy.

They stay.

And slowly, they change how you listen to your own mind.

Maybe healing is not about fixing what’s broken. Maybe it’s about staying long enough in the breaking to notice what opens it.

That day, nothing changed on the outside. But something inside learned how to pause — and listen.