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There was a time when I thought something was terribly wrong with me.
PTSD had split my world into fragments—flashbacks, time slips, and long stretches where I floated outside my own body. Traditional psychology called it dissociation, a coping mechanism for trauma. And yet, deep inside those fractured moments, another awareness whispered: I am still here.
It took years to understand that voice.
At first, I tried to fix myself. I went to therapy, learned the language of triggers and the nervous system, and labeled my experiences as symptoms.
But the more I fought to “stay grounded,” the more I felt the invisible pull of something larger, the part of me that could watch the chaos without being destroyed by it.
One day, during a particularly intense flashback, I stopped resisting.
Instead of forcing myself to stay “in my body,” I followed the current of energy that was leaving. I became aware of the observer, the consciousness, witnessing both terror and time distortion. In that moment, I realized: this awareness is the soul. I began to recognize that my body needed to punch, kick, and bite. I began talking to the part of me that was hidden within my body, stuck in time, surviving what happened so many years ago.
“You survived; I am here; I am you.”
That experience changed everything.
What psychology had named pathology, spirituality revealed as a possibility. When I stopped shaming the part of me that dissociated and instead listened to it, the flashbacks began to fade. The same energy that once pulled me away now guided me home.
Psychology, by definition, is the study of the mind and behavior. It explores how we think, feel, and respond to life. “Soul Psychology” expands that view. It recognizes that behind every thought and emotion is an essence of conscious energy; the you who notices you are thinking, who feels the feeling beneath the story, who connects in prayer or intuition, and who knows without knowing how.
The soul is not fragile. It is eternal awareness housed within a human vessel designed to feel, learn, and express.
The body, mind, emotions, and energy are instruments through which the soul experiences itself. But when trauma strikes, we often forget that we are the conductor, not the instruments. The ego takes over, convinced that survival is equivalent to identity.
As Carolyn Myss writes in her work on soul contracts, “Each of us is born with sacred agreements that guide our growth.”
Trauma doesn’t void those contracts; it initiates them.
Dolores Cannon and Dr. Michael Newton both explored this truth through regression and higher-self studies: consciousness continues, learns, and evolves through every lifetime and every challenge.
In this light, dissociation isn’t the loss of self. It’s the soul showing us where our energy still needs to be retrieved.
Our nervous system is miraculous. It was built to protect the soul’s dwelling place, the body. But when fear or abuse becomes chronic, the system overreacts. We disconnect to survive.
What I learned through both study and grace is that we can return consciously.
By observing dissociation instead of judging it, I could call my energy back piece by piece.
I used breath, prayer, movement, and compassion to re-anchor my awareness in my body. Each time I met a lost fragment with love, my presence deepened. Eventually, the flashbacks ceased because there was nowhere left for my energy to run; home had become a safe haven.
“Soul Psychology” teaches that healing is not about becoming someone new; it’s about remembering who we already are. When we know ourselves as the soul, the ego softens. We stop identifying with the pain, the diagnosis, or the past. We start tending our vessels’ body, mind, emotions, and energy as sacred tools rather than prisons.
This awareness doesn’t make life easy; it makes it meaningful. We still feel, grieve, and grow, but from a center of wholeness. From this view, enlightenment isn’t leaving the body; it’s inhabiting it fully with love.
Today, I teach “Soul Psychology” through Gateway University, where we explore how trauma, consciousness, and identity intersect to awaken wholeness. I also love sharing these principles in workshops and retreats for communities ready to integrate science and soul.
If you’ve ever wondered whether you have a soul, or feared you’ve lost part of it to life’s storms, remember this:
You can’t lose what you are.
You can only forget.
And remembering is the most sacred healing of all.
Here is a Soul Confidence Quiz available at Your Own University, which you can take to discover more. Take the Quiz.
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