Plunging into the pain of a profound separation

When attachment screams, how can you find inner peace and understand your old wounds? This article was born of pain. An inner turmoil that struck me without warning, like a bolt of lightning in a sky that I thought had finally calmed down. It was also born of my path. The path of Tantra, which is not a fixed path of light, but a living, vibrant journey, where shadow, lack, desire and tears have their place. I share here a story, mine, but also that of so many others. Because with each separation, it's a part of our soul that we have to come and listen to, console, and perhaps let be reborn.

From «everything» to «nothing»: When love erases us and the soul remembers

There are breaks that don't make any noise. They settle in gently, like a veil, at a time when you no longer have the strength to fight. You say yes in the end, because you have to move on. You tell yourself it doesn't matter. That there was too much distance, not enough words, not enough breath between us anyway. And then time passes, and we think we've turned the page. Because we have a thousand things to do. Because we have to save what we've built. Because something has to stand. But one day, everything calms down. You reach a peak, a recognition, a victory. And in that space that's finally free, it's the lack that settles in. A lack of presence. A warmth. A gaze. A body to surrender to. That day, love did not return. But the pain did. It strikes through the heart like a silent bolt of lightning. Sometimes it takes the form of an absurd gesture: a stone falling on your head without warning, an object thrown by a child in a park, like a reminder from heaven. Sometimes it emerges in the frozen smile we address to the other person's child, as he unknowingly shows us photos of a new happiness, a new woman, another version of us, softer, more loved. And we say “that's good”, “I'm happy for him”. On the inside, we're falling apart. But we're holding on. We're going to the park. We go to the aperitif. We carry on talking as if nothing had happened. And it's only in the evening, when everyone's asleep, that the truth can come out. The heart, alone at last, can cry. And in those hidden tears, a whole life is held back. A life of silences, of childhood habits, of deep-rooted modesty. We have learned not to show. Not to disturb. So we save the tears for later. Until the day when they come out on their own, like today, in front of a neighbour, without warning. Maybe that's the real tipping point: when you can't control it any more, when the mask falls off, when sadness finally takes the place it deserves. It's not a weakness. It's an opening. A passage. And in this passage, we don't yet know what we're going to find. But we sense that something is changing. Work begins in the shadows.

Why does it hurt so much?

It's not just the other person who's leaving. It's a part of us that no longer knows where to land. When a relationship ends abruptly, when the other person moves on so quickly, it's incomprehension that lacerates us. We ask ourselves: «Was what we experienced real?» «How could he move on so quickly? »What did I miss? But this pain often conceals an older pain. The pain of the child we never looked at. The pain of the little girl who was taught not to make noise, not to cry, not to get in the way. The pain of the girl who is silenced in large families, in certain cultures where emotional modesty is a value. So we grow up with the idea that we have to deserve love, that we have to be perfect, devoted, strong. And one day, a love rekindles this wound. It hits you exactly where it hurts. Not to punish us, but to show us what needs to be seen. So yes, there is jealousy. There is anger. There's this brutal thought: «The universe responds to his needs, not mine. But it's not the other person you hate. It's the image of ourselves that we project: this forgotten, replaceable, invisible woman. It's an illusion. But it's a powerful illusion. And until we see it, it continues to hurt.

What love leaves in us

One day, you wake up differently. Not cured. But a little more whole. You look at emptiness differently. You recognise it as a space, not a lack. And you realise that in every relationship, however brief, something has circulated. Something alive. Maybe the love we gave fed the other. Maybe we'll never see it. But it went somewhere. Every encounter leaves a trace. Every link leaves seeds. And even if we're not the ones to reap the rewards, we've played our part in the flowering. This is not denial. It's not forced positivism. It's a mystical understanding: what we have loved is not lost, it continues to circulate in the soul of the world. And above all, we've received too. We have grown. We've seen where it hurts. And now we know. We can heal. Because in the end, it's not love that makes us suffer.

It's the illusion that we weren't worthy of it.

And if every love is an opportunity for healing, then even the most heartbreaking become passages. Passages to us. Towards gentleness. Towards a love to come, free of old ghosts. Towards a deeper, more grounded, freer presence.

This is where the real renaissance begins.

Today, I see this separation as an invitation to descend even further into my being. Not to lose myself, but to find the part of me that has never stopped loving. The woman in me who cries is not weak. She is the hidden face of the Tantric archetype. Kali that destroys illusion, that cuts through hollow attachments, that brings us back to the vibrant heart of reality. That's what Tantra is all about. A path of lucidity, fire and radical acceptance. And on this journey, I realised that it wasn't the other person I had to find. It was me.

Turning pain into a path

A separation can become a path back to yourself. But not right away. It takes time. It takes tears, silences, wanderings. But one day, you get back on your feet. You look at that emptiness and you discover a door. The door to intimacy, to the soul, to deep care.

What if the love we had for each other became the love we finally allowed ourselves to have?

I invite you to listen to what's still vibrating inside you. And if you feel that your body is calling out, that your heart is looking for a place to rest, I'll accompany you on this journey, with the tenderness of Tantra and the warmth of an understanding gaze. With all my tenderness, Hajira