When Ego Gets in the Way

The other day, I was working with a client who simply could not let go of his Ego long enough to enter hypnosis and explore his past lives. For over an hour, I gently guided him to soften the analytical mind, to loosen its grip and step into imagination and felt experience. But the mind would not yield. Eventually, we stopped and agreed to try again another day.

I understood immediately. The Ego exists to protect us—to scan for danger, to keep us safe, to maintain control. And for many of us, releasing that control, even briefly, can feel deeply threatening. I know this because I spent most of my life in that very state.

When I speak of the Ego, I mean it in the sense described by Eckhart Tolle: the false, compulsive sense of self constructed from thoughts, beliefs, roles, possessions, and opinions. It is the mental identity that fears being nothing, constantly seeks validation, and keeps us anchored in the past or anxious about the future. It is the incessant voice in the head that judges, compares, and demands more—creating dissatisfaction and a sense of separation from our true essence, our deeper being, our presence.

For me, living under the rule of the Ego began in childhood. I grew up in a family dynamic shaped by narcissistic abuse, where love was conditional and could vanish without warning. As I approached adolescence and no longer needed my mother in the same way, the cruelty intensified. Silent treatment became common. Kindness grew scarce. Only much later did I understand that my growing independence enraged her. Our relationship remained fraught for decades, finally softening only when Alzheimer’s began to erode her memory. Ironically, in my effort to survive being raised by someone so deeply identified with her own Ego, I unconsciously developed one of my own. It became armor—necessary, at the time—to protect me from pain.

Over the years, that armor hardened. I became fiercely independent and radically self-sufficient, deeply uncomfortable asking for help or receiving support. It wasn’t until life brought me to my knees that the Ego finally loosened its grip.

As I share on the “About Me” page of my Joyful You Past Life Healing website, beginning in 2015 I experienced a cascade of profound losses: the death of my father and my best friend, the unraveling of my family relationships, the ache of Empty Nest Syndrome when my beloved sons left for college, and the slow erosion of my spirit in a toxic work environment. One by one, the structures that had defined my identity fell away—until I was left feeling utterly isolated and alone.

I entered what is often called a Dark Night of the Soul. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. My mind felt fractured; my ability to function at work vanished. It was terrifying. I genuinely wondered if I would survive it. With the help of medication and therapy, I did. But when I came back “online,” I was no longer the same person.

Something fundamental had shifted. The Ego still existed, but its authority over me had diminished. I could see situations from a higher vantage point. At times, I could even step back emotionally from difficult interactions, allowing another person’s behavior to pass through me rather than trigger something inside me. Occasionally, I would laugh—not out of dismissal, but out of understanding. This is what humans do, I would think.

Letting go of the Ego is rarely a single moment of awakening. More often, it is a slow unraveling—prompted by loss, suffering, and the quiet realization that the way we’ve been living is no longer sustainable. But on the other side of that unraveling is something far more spacious: presence, compassion, and a deep, abiding peace that no longer depends on daily events.

And that, I have come to believe, is where true healing begins. That Dark Night of the Soul ultimately became the doorway to my second career. As my Ego loosened its hold, I found myself drawn toward deeper spiritual healing, including past life exploration, not as an escape from pain but as a way to understand it, integrate it, and finally release it. The same surrender I had once resisted became the very thing that continues to heal me and others with whom I work.

My Past Life Healing practice was born from that transformation. What once nearly broke me has become the rewarding path through which I help others remember who they truly are.