I Choose the Bear, Part 1 – Surviving Silence, Finding My Voice

Not kidding… It’s 3:33 AM as I begin to write this. I found myself telling this story over and over, so I figured why not put the pen to paper and clear my mind? Then maybe sweet slumber will meet me in the space between my ears instead of these words.

This story has a happy ending. I feel guided to lead with that before I walk us through this dark, thorny part of the path I traversed to get to where I am today.

I was young and sweet, only 17, having the time of my life. I attended a house party with my close friends at that time. The guy I was dating invited me, but we met there. It was in the basement of a house that was under a 10-minute drive from my parents’ house. Music, laughter, the kind of night you don’t think twice about… until you do. Until years later, your bones remember what your mind could not.

Of course, there was booze, lots of it, and of course, I drank lots of it. I remember I wore a white dress. It almost looked like a nurse’s costume with the buttons that ran from the neckline down the length of the dress. I also remember pineapple juice. Whatever alcohol I drank was mixed with pineapple juice.

We were dancing, having a good time.

Then, it was morning.

I woke up on my friend’s couch. I was hungover, and my body was sore.

I went to the bathroom… There was blood on my underwear.

I assumed I’d had sex with the guy I was dating.

I don’t remember if it was the day after, or in the days or weeks to follow, that I learned the party we went to was a bachelor’s party… and that I was offered to the groom-to-be by the guy I was dating.

Looking back now, I believe the shame, guilt, and disgust that I felt towards myself numbed the anger, betrayal, and disgust that I should have felt towards them.

I branded myself with the scarlet letter. On a very subconscious level, I loathed myself. I felt dirty, unworthy, unlovable.

That was the programming that was running in the background. And to operate from such a place of little-to-no self-love is a recipe for self-destruction.

But I am a survivor. And because I had survived, without the tools to process what had happened, I began to destroy the very things that brought me joy. Fleeting moments. Beautiful connections. I pushed them away, not because I didn’t want them…but because some part of me believed I didn’t deserve to keep them. I destroyed everything, but not to the point of death.

I kept myself alive. Smiling on the outside…while on the inside, I felt the opposite.

I buried those feelings deep, deep inside my bones.

Out of sight, out of mind.

I don’t like the word sabotage.

It feels too conscious, too cruel.

But in hindsight, I can see how I would end things before they could end me. I pushed love away before it could prove me right about being unlovable.

Fast forward maybe four or five years. It was around the time Sports Authority was closing down their brick-and-mortar locations. I drove to the one closest to my house to take advantage of their sales. I wanted a pair of rollerblades.

I had a pair on and I was rolling down the aisles, giving them a test roll…

When I saw my abuser walking around with his daughter and his mistress, might I add.

I knew it was his mistress because, at that time, I didn’t understand why, but I had grown obsessed with him and my ex, so I would creep on their Facebook pages. Like, I had to know what they were doing. Hence why I knew that was his mistress.

We locked eyes.

My chest turned to cement.

Heat crawled up my neck.

I couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

Couldn’t move.

The shelves became my anchor as I dragged myself out of sight.

I had never experienced anything like that before in my life.

I remember feeling embarrassed. Like I was the one who fucked up. Because in that moment, I still believed I was at fault…for getting so drunk, for not knowing what my limit was, and for blacking out. For doing that to myself.

I mean, for fuck’s sake—a friend of mine, she was actually our DD (designated driver) that night…she tried to pull me out of the bedroom. And she was kicked out of the party.

And yet, I still felt like I was the one who did something wrong.

I thought that was the last time he would enter my life. I was wrong. He returned years later — not in person, but in headlines and hashtags.

Fast forward to the #MeToo movement. I remember reading the stories of all the brave women who came forward, and I remember saying to myself:

”Wait… that’s what happened to me. That sounds like my story!”

It wasn’t until then that I realized I had been graped. That I was a victim of sexual assault. That I had been taken advantage of when I was vulnerable.

Fuck.

So now, a whole slew of new, or maybe not new, but deeply repressed emotions began to bubble up into my chest. The sad part was that I couldn’t even fathom the thought of being a victim of SA. It almost felt worse. Because at least before, it was MY doing. It was MY choice. I overgave.

This realization meant that I had been silenced.

That MY choice was ignored and completely disregarded.

That they took. They overtook.

And somehow, that was worse.

So I buried that realization and the emotions it stirred up deeper into my bones. I locked the door and threw away the key.

And life went on…

I thought silence was safety.

I was wrong.

Part 2 is the moment I chose the bear.

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If you or someone you know has experienced sexual assault, please know: You do not have to stay silent. You are not alone. Your voice matters. Your healing matters.

There are resources available to support you:

📞 National Sexual Assault Hotline (RAINN)

1-800-656-HOPE (4673)

Free. Confidential. 24/7.

https://rainn.org

This is deeply sensitive material, and if you’ve read all the way through, thank you for holding space. Thank you for witnessing this piece of my story. Thank you for honoring yours..

Originally posted on my Substack on 21 July 2025

You Went Through a Dark Night of the Soul, but You Have a Teams Meeting at 10 A.M. the Next Day

One moment, I’m meditating and feeling serpents rise up my spine—my first taste of kundalini awakening—and jolting awake to a kaleidoscope of faces in the mirror, some kind, others terrifying. The next, I’m logging into a Teams meeting at 10 a.m., pretending I’m not questioning the very fabric of reality.

That’s the thing about a spiritual awakening: it doesn’t wait for you to clear your calendar.

This space—Sacred Balance Collective—is for the souls navigating their own unraveling. The ones wondering if they’re losing their minds, only to find themselves. If you’ve ever felt like the ground beneath you has crumbled, leaving you questioning everything, you’re not alone.

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The Breakup That Broke Me Open

October of 2021 turned my life upside down. At the time, I was dating someone, and though our connection was brief, it shook me to my core. He brought with him a feeling I had never experienced before—a remembrance, as if some ancient thread of energy between us had been reignited.

When it ended as quickly as it began, I was devastated. It wasn’t just heartbreak—it was a spiritual initiation. It felt as though my first glimpse of divinity had been ripped from my hands, leaving me shattered.

It broke me open.

I realized I wasn’t just uncomfortable with myself—I was deeply unhappy, unsettled, and ill-at-ease in my own skin. Everything felt like it was unraveling, and I couldn’t hold on to anything familiar because none of it was truly me. This was the beginning of my spiritual transformation, though I didn’t know it at the time.

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A Dark Night of the Soul

Caught Between Worlds

Then came the sleepless nights. A constant buzzing in my ears. Flashes of light behind my closed eyes. And most unsettling of all—voices. I would hear my name being called—not inside my mind, but outside of it, like a whisper just out of reach.

At first, I thought I was losing my grip on reality. But no. This was my first spiritual awakening. The veil between worlds had begun to thin, and my soul was stirring, waking itself up.

TikTok became an unlikely lifeline. My feed overflowed with terms like dark night of the soul, spiritual awakening symptoms, and kundalini rising. Every video felt like it was speaking directly to me. I hadn’t searched for these things, and yet there they were. It wasn’t just the algorithm; it felt like divine intervention.

Or maybe Big Brother. Good-looking-out, FBI agent assigned to me. (I kid. Maybe.)

I dove headfirst into the spiritual rabbit hole, desperate to understand why I felt so lost, yet so alive. TikTok said, Meditate. Connect with your spirit team. I didn’t even know what a spirit team was, but I followed the breadcrumbs.

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The Serpent in the Mirror

One day, I sat in front of a mirror doing a chakra alignment meditation (because apparently, we have energy centers within our bodies. Who knew?) As I focused on the energy within, I saw something extraordinary—a serpent at the base of my spine, coiling and circling, moving upward through each chakra.

My body began to gyrate uncontrollably, and as the serpent reached my crown chakra, I opened my eyes, startled.

In the mirror, my reflection shifted and morphed. My face became a cascade of different faces—some kind, others terrifying. I stared as the last face, dark and demonic, stared back at me. I had no idea what I had just unlocked.

Later, I would learn this was my first kundalini awakening. It terrified and fascinated me. I knew I needed help. I was way out of my depth.

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Reiki, Ancestral Healing, and the Unveiling of Memories

I remembered a TikTok video offering distance Reiki healing. The woman on the screen said, I will send you chakra healing energy. Say yes to receive. Skeptical but desperate, I said yes. And then it happened—warmth poured into my chest, like hot tea filling an empty cup. My heart expanded, my head buzzed, and I couldn’t deny it: this was real.

That experience led me to a local Reiki practitioner who became my guide. Her sessions were transformative. She told me about the spirit guides who had been with me since birth and encouraged me to call on my ancestors, who had been waiting for me to step into my role as a healer.

I couldn’t deny her words—she would repeat or confirm messages I’d received in meditation but hadn’t shared with her. Through Reiki, I began moving stagnant energy, and memories began to resurface—light, dark, shadow, and divine. Ancient and recent. Childhood trauma rose to the surface, demanding to be seen, healed, transmuted, and integrated through ancestral healing practices

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The Akashic Records and a New Dimension

The uncovering of my trauma led me to the Akashic Records, opening a dimension I didn’t know existed. At first, they didn’t give me the answers I wanted about my pain. But now, years later, I understand—they gave me what I was ready to receive. Over time, the Records became my most powerful tool for self-discovery and soul remembrance. Eventually, I became certified to read them for others.

Much later in my journey, I asked the Records about that man I told you about—the one who turned my world upside down.

The Records revealed a soul contract—an agreement we’d made before this lifetime. He came to remind me of the divinity within me, and then he was meant to leave. He was my gentle alarm clock, sent to jolt me awake and move on.

When I think back now, I see how tender it all was. He was kind. Never mean, never cruel. It just ended. And I marvel at the gentleness of it all. I feel grateful for how softly my soul whispered, Wake up.

The pain I felt after it ended wasn’t necessarily about him. It was a yearning. I ached for the light I saw reflected in him, not realizing at the time that the light was already within me. He was a mirror, reflecting what I was blind to until I could finally see it for myself. Once I recognized it, his role in my life was complete.

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Welcome to the Journey

Through this journey, I’ve learned that spiritual awakening isn’t about becoming something new. It’s about peeling back the layers and remembering who you’ve always been. It’s messy, terrifying, and sometimes absurd—like going through a dark night of the soul and still having to log into a Teams meeting the next morning.

But that’s the beauty of it.

This journey woke me up. But more importantly, it brought me home to myself. It’s still bringing me home. This is a lifelong process, but what it’s taught me so far is that the spiritual path isn’t about escaping life. It’s about embracing all of it—the joy, the pain, the light, and the shadow.

This space is where I’ll share my journey—raw, unfiltered, and unapologetic. If you’re navigating your own dark night of the soul, wondering if you’ve lost your mind, I’m here to tell you: yes, you are, but only to rediscover the part of you that has always been there—your true essence—who you were before you were told who you had to be.

Welcome home, sweet soul.

With love & gratitude,

Dulce Olivia

Founder of Sacred Balance Collective—guiding spiritual awakenings, kundalini journeys, and Akashic Records embodiment work.

Originally posted on my Substack on 27 January 2025