Getting Lost to Get Found: The Art of Losing Yourself on the Path to Healing
For much of my life, I lived in a constant state of doing. Do more. Achieve more. Keep up. The world around me was fast-paced, loud, and relentless. There was always something to prove, something to accomplish, something that required my attention. On the surface, it all seemed fine—like I was ticking off the boxes of life, moving toward success, achieving milestones. But deep down, there was an underlying current of fatigue that I couldn’t escape.
I didn’t have the language for it then, but now I recognize that I was living in a perpetual state of overwhelm. It wasn’t just about juggling responsibilities or managing stress. It was more about feeling like I had to be everything to everyone, never giving myself the permission to just be (for a long time, I didn't even know what that was). I had become so wrapped up in the “doing” that I forgot, or never actually learned, how to exist outside of it.
Like so many people, I had spent years living with trauma that I didn’t know how to name. Compounded by one hardship after another -- Chronic pain, emotional wounds, and mental health struggles followed me like shadows, some days casting longer, darker silhouettes than others. On top of that, I had a deep sensitivity to overstimulation, the kind that comes with being a highly sensitive person in a world that never stops. The big city was moving at far too fast a pace for my system to keep up with! I would push myself to meet expectations, to fit the mold of what success was supposed to look like, even when my body and soul were screaming for rest. As the calls got louder.....Bam! An almost life-ending, and debilitating brain and spinal injury.
I was trapped in a cycle: the harder I pushed, the more I began to crack. It wasn’t until everything came crashing down, that I understood how desperately I needed to change. I was a single Mother, my partner abandoned me in the thick of traumatic injury. I was living alone, with my young daughter, on a 10-acre rental property, with 2 dogs and 3 chickens - and completely isolated. I was stressed and depressed. I was lost. I was broken. I could not heal and return to the way of life I knew previously. There was no turning back, I think this is what is often referred to as "rock bottom".
The Desperation for Another Way
It’s an odd thing, desperation. In some ways, it feels like giving up, but in others, it’s a calling to something deeper. A whisper from within saying, “There’s another way.” I didn’t know what that way was, but I felt it in my bones, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer or perhaps another way, at that time, felt like my only chance for survival.
I began seeking out alternate avenues of therapy—ways to heal that didn’t involve just talking my way through the pain. The traditional methods had served in some way, but they weren’t enough. Exposure therapy, one rehabilitation program after another, medication—they didn’t fully address the emotional, spiritual, and physical dissonance that I was carrying. Essentially, none of them addressed the magnitude of what my body was carrying and the impact to my nervous system.
In my search for deeper healing, I came across Medicine Assisted Therapy. At first, I was uncertain—I'd heard about it and wasn’t sure if I could handle this new and very foreign terrain. I had also witnessed recreational use of substances, but this was different. As I learned more, I realized that medicine-assisted therapy wasn’t about escaping reality or seeking temporary relief; it was about these medicines being used intentionally, in a controlled, therapeutic setting, to face the pain, trauma, and emotional blockages that had been holding me back. It became clear to me that this was not just a passing trend, but a profound opportunity for true personal transformation—a chance to heal at a deeper level, beyond surface fixes.
Losing Myself to Find Myself Again
Medicine Assisted Therapy—often associated with substances like Ketamine, Psilocybin or MDMA—wasn’t a magic fix. But it did something I had been unable to accomplish through other avenues until that time: it allowed me to slowly unravel, to let go of holding on far too tightly. For someone who had spent so much time controlling, pushing, and trying to keep up, the experience of surrender was both terrifying and exhilarating all at once. I had to lose myself, truly lose myself, like dissolve entirely, to begin the process of coming back to who I really was.
During these sessions, I experienced what I can only describe as an unraveling—layers of old stories, old pains, and old habits falling away. I was confronted with parts of myself I had buried for so long. I met the trauma I had been avoiding, but instead of fighting it or pushing it further down, I learned to sit with it. I learned to BE with the pain without it taking over and steering the ship. For the first time since my traumatic injury, and the downward spiral that followed, I allowed myself to feel and be fully present, not just in my head, but in my body, in my heart, and in my spirit.
The healing was not instantaneous, but it was real. It felt like coming home to myself in a way I hadn’t known I had lost. And most importantly, it gave me the tools to continue my healing journey with a sense of agency and self-compassion, rather than with fear and resistance.
Taking Steps to Come Back to Life
In the world I am most commonly surrounded by, it was easy to get lost in the busyness of things. The Hussle/Grind Culture often celebrating productivity and achievement, creating an environment where slowing down felt like failure. In the process of unlearning, it felt at times like I was taking steps backwards, but in actual fact, I was just embarking onto new terrain.
Especially as someone who is highly sensitive, the overstimulation of such a busy world, at times, felt unbearable. The constant stream of information, the pressure to constantly perform, and the never-ending noise can drown out our inner voice. But in my journey of healing, I discovered that it was in the quiet moments—the moments when I allowed myself to step away from the noise—that I found reprieve.
This reprieve, I realized, didn’t come from doing more or achieving more. It came from giving myself and my system the time and space to really let go—to let go of the narrative, or needing to get somewhere, and start to get to know the core of my being and its truth, for what might have been the first time. I learned to reconnect with the part of me that existed beyond the roles I played and the expectations I carried. I learned that healing isn’t a destination; it was a journey of discovering and rediscovering who I was, even in the midst of chaos.
Rising From the Ashes
My healing journey has not been linear, it still continues to this day. There are days when I still feel lost, days when the weight of the world feels overwhelming. But each time I rise, I do so with more awareness, more compassion, and a deeper trust in my ability to navigate whatever comes next. The ashes of the past—those remnants of pain and trauma—no longer define me, but rather serve as the soil from which I continue to grow. This ultimately led to me holding both my personal and professional in tandem. To take what felt like a "loss" and turn it into a "found". To transform a great challenge into becoming one of my greatest gifts and the seed to being of service and making meaningful contributions in support of others turning towards their own healing. I became a counsellor, an advocate, trained as a psychedelic therapist and also continued to heal.
I began to trust that sometimes, the path to healing requires us to lose ourselves, to fall apart so that we can rebuild from the ground up. In the mess and chaos, we find the seeds of transformation. It wasn't always easy, but it was/is worth it. And in the end, when I look back, I see with more clarity and realize that when I thought I was getting lost, I was actually getting found!
So if you find yourself at a crossroads, unsure of which way to go or feeling like you’ve lost your way—know that it’s okay. It’s part of the process. There’s healing in the chaos, and sometimes, losing yourself can sometimes be a pathway for finding deeper meaning in your life and the truth that lies within. We each have a unique and innate healing capacity. You are not broken; you are becoming. Keep going.
By: Shoshana Ward, RTC, CMAT Co-founder, Clinic & Community Director
