Self-Authority –

Living a life with chronic pain also includes challenges and fears that often change very little over long periods of time. Strong willpower, high effort, and the ongoing fight for improvement reach their limits where perspective and orientation are missing.

The search for advice, concepts, and therapies can provide a great deal of knowledge in such phases. Yet knowledge alone does not create movement. As long as we remain in the back-and-forth between functioning and withdrawal, the experience hardly changes and can quickly turn into a recurring cycle from which an exit seems impossible. Responsibility shifts outward. Expectations arise. Disappointment follows. A forceful effort that can be accompanied by depression, burnout, and a complete giving up on oneself.

Along my path, there have been several moments when life completely threw me off course again. For a long time, I lacked understanding for the limits that felt insurmountable at those moments. I, too, was unable to direct my attention to what I actually needed. I only saw what no longer worked and what should have worked. Because directing one’s gaze toward what lies behind what we experience is a form of understanding that first has to develop.

The questions asked in moments of such challenges are rarely: What do I actually want? What would be fun for me? What would I like to experience? There is rarely a real reorientation. Much more often, we try to hold on to what we already have, because letting go of anything while we are fighting so hard creates a tension that can only be resolved through a complete collapse.

Sometimes it takes a life-threatening diagnosis to become aware of what we still want in this life. Only through questions such as: What do I want to live for? Am I on the path toward that, or do I realize that I am moving in a completely different direction?

When I spent my days on the floor in 2017, after having fought for so long just to keep walking, I had not the faintest idea that I would one day be sitting at a computer writing posts and blogs, let alone books. Even at school, I had always been able to write very engaging essays and stories. Most of them, however, had to be rewritten because of the many mistakes. And now I am sitting here again, picking up perspectives, trying to describe feelings that are so diverse they can hardly be put into words, and painting images into your thoughts with words.

From my struggle with having to walk, it gradually became clear that walking is not actually something I truly want. For me, this remains a field that opens up many valuable foundations for understanding processes and experiences. Just yesterday, something very small once again revealed this overwhelming energy: “Oh, no, please not walking!” You see, in that moment it is no longer fundamentally about the information or the resistance. I have become much more curious about what such information has to tell me. Agency does not lie in walking. It lies in how I deal with the feelings and information that arise from it. “Oh, interesting—what is this trying to tell me right now?” And here my playing field opens up, a field in which I experience a great deal of joy.

The field, your guides on your path, keep leading you in the direction where you can make the experiences you chose as an energetic being. You do not have to believe me; a few years ago I would not have believed it either. Life has shown me that this is how it is.

Perhaps I can make this clearer with the following image. Imagine you are a car. Every day you park again in the same garage, but in a different spot. Each time you park, you leave particles of your car in that place: dust, rubber abrasion, water drops, maybe even a drop of gasoline. You drive away, the particles remain. Something similar happens with body, mind, and soul. Through your experiences, you keep the aspects of body and mind in the car, while parts of the soul are parked across many other parking spaces and levels. You live in the polarity of body and mind, balancing on two chair legs.

The soul parts are distributed across many parking spaces. Perhaps someone has told you to bring them back, and you parked them all in one single spot on the top level of the parking garage. Yet you only go there from time to time. You never actually take them with you.

Agency arises at the moment when we bring all parts back onto one level and carry them within us. From this, an inner space emerges. A feeling of orientation. Of choice. Of “I can, if I want.”

Many people know the opposite of agency very well. The paralysis that comes with fear. The rigidity in phobias. The exhaustion that accompanies long-term pain. Closeness to animals, situations, or people becomes impossible. Anger, sadness, or frustration take over. Even high levels of effort bring little relief. Only when this sense of helplessness is allowed to transform does action return. Working on the fear, phobia, or challenge itself leads to lasting change in only very few cases.

In hypnotherapy, for example, the process is never predefined. I work with the elements a client brings into the space. In frequency-based energy work, frequencies are reconnected in a way that allows fear to shift into a sense of stability and safety. When this awareness of trinity is perceived and felt, an energy can emerge that transforms such processes with a speed that continues to surprise. Because it is no longer about “something happening.” It becomes something that is, because you are.

There is a level that goes even deeper, where self-authority is challenged under threat.

In existential situations, the focus often turns toward solutions and change. Yet precisely these two aspects tend to create resistance, struggle, and counterforce. Under threat, such approaches frequently lead deeper into overwhelm. In these highly charged energetic states, the essential element is direction rather than solutions. When perception remains anchored in an inner point, decisions arise through alignment. The experience of losing control is bypassed.

This form of inner structure is often misread as avoidance or withdrawal. Seen as passivity, it appears to lose strength and impact. When lived from the perspective of trinity, however, it unfolds as a deeply effective form of healing. Quiet. Clear. Rooted in a sense of connection, belonging, and stability.

Another expression of self-authority appears in moments where action takes the form of restraint. Choosing to pause. Allowing a step to wait. Interrupting thought patterns. Replacing the urge to act immediately with presence opens a space in which clarity and effectiveness emerge naturally. Healing unfolds here as well.

One of the earliest instructions I repeatedly resisted with conviction was: “Sit down. Do nothing.” Only over time did understanding grow that self-authority can arise even when external certainty dissolves.

Today, I continue to discover new facets within this field and invite you to remain curious about how deeply it may still unfold.

I wish you a wonderful week.