Results.
Not promises.

Before I met Felix, I thought healing was supposed to feel peaceful.

I thought that once I became "spiritual enough," I would stop feeling angry, afraid, jealous, lost, or ashamed. Instead, the deeper I went, the worse everything seemed to become. Old memories came back. Relationships fell apart. I couldn't sleep properly. I stopped recognizing the person in the mirror.

From the outside, my life still looked fairly normal. I worked, answered messages, smiled when people spoke to me. But inside, I felt like I had been buried alive.

I had read all the books. I knew the language. Inner child. Shadow work. Trauma response. Ego death. Surrender. I could explain exactly what was happening to me, but I couldn't actually get myself out of it.

That was my Katabasis.

The descent.

And honestly, there were days when I didn't believe there was another side to it. I thought maybe I had broken myself by looking too deeply. Maybe ignorance really was better. Maybe I should have stayed asleep.

Felix never treated me like I was broken. He also didn't tell me what I wanted to hear, which pissed me off more than once.

Sometimes I would send him a long message explaining why I couldn't move forward, and he would cut through the whole story with one sentence. At first, I thought he was being harsh. Later, I realized he was refusing to strengthen the part of me that wanted to remain powerless.

He helped me understand that the descent was not proof that I had failed. It was the place where the false version of me could no longer survive.

But that sounds cleaner than it actually was.

The truth is, I resisted almost everything. I disappeared for a few days. I went back to old habits. I blamed people who had hurt me. Then I blamed myself for allowing it. I had breakthroughs in the morning and completely lost my mind again by the evening.

It wasn't a straight line upward.

It was ugly. Embarrassing. Sometimes almost ridiculous.

But somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, I started becoming honest.

Not spiritually impressive. Not endlessly positive. Just honest.

I saw how much of my life had been built around fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of being misunderstood. Fear of succeeding and having people expect more from me. Fear of becoming the person I kept saying I wanted to become.

Felix helped me see patterns I had spent years calling personality traits. He showed me where I was abandoning myself, where I was asking permission, and where I was using my past as both an explanation and an excuse.

The biggest change wasn't that all my problems disappeared.

They didn't.

I still have bad days. I still overthink. I still catch myself wanting to return to the familiar version of me because at least I knew how to survive as that person.

The difference is that I don't worship those thoughts anymore.

I don't automatically believe every fearful voice in my head. I don't confuse anxiety with intuition. I don't think discomfort means I'm going the wrong way.

My Anabasis began quietly.

It wasn't one huge moment where the clouds opened and everything made sense. It was getting out of bed when I wanted to disappear. It was finally having a conversation I had avoided for years. It was saying no without writing a five-paragraph apology afterward. It was realizing that peace does not always feel like softness. Sometimes peace feels like finally making a decision.

I don't write this to impress anyone. I write it because if you're in the middle of your own descent, reading this might be the only thing that keeps you walking.

There is another side. I didn't believe it either. But there is.

Felix is not a guru. He will not worship you, flatter you, or tell you that the universe has a special plan for your greatness. He will see the thing you are hiding from yourself, name it clearly, and then refuse to let you keep using it as a chain.

If you're willing to be honest, he can take you further than you thought was possible.

If you're not, he'll tell you that too.

I still work with Felix. Not because I need him to function, but because the work deepens. Each session peels back another layer I didn't know was there. The difference now is that I'm no longer afraid of what's underneath.

That's what Felix gave me. Not answers. Not comfort. Something better: the ability to look at myself without flinching.

If you're reading this and wondering whether to reach out, stop wondering. You already know.