The Aftershock

©️ By Sophie Lewis | The Grooming Files | Shadowborn Series

No one talks about what happens after the breakthrough.

Not in real terms. Not in the mess. Everyone’s quick to talk about transformation, the high, the moment you see clearly, the trip, the tears, the scream that finally leaves your chest. But then what?

What about the days after the collapse? The stillness after the storm? The moments when you’re not sure who the hell you are anymore?

Because the truth is, healing doesn’t come wrapped in ceremony. It comes when the silence sets in. When the purge has passed. When the people who once fed your dysfunction fall away, and you’re left alone with nothing but the truth.

Integration Isn’t Pretty

There’s this lie that once you’ve faced your trauma, or had some spiritual awakening.. you’re reborn, renewed, glowing. But that’s not how it was for me.

I came back from the void unsure how to exist. I didn’t want to go back to how I was living, but I didn’t know how to live differently. The life I had no longer fit. The version of me I met in the shadows had different needs. But the world around me hadn’t changed. And I had to learn how to function, while holding fragments of a truth that no longer let me settle.

I was numb and overstimulated all at once. I couldn’t tolerate noise. Chaos triggered me. Silence echoed louder than it used to. I was collapsing inwards while trying to keep everything looking normal from the outside.

And because I wasn’t “breaking down” anymore, people assumed I was better.

But integration is when the real work begins. You’re not high anymore. You’re not protected by the experience. You’re raw. Thin-skinned. And the world doesn’t slow down for your healing.

Spiritual Grief

After certain trips, I didn’t just cry, I grieved. Deeply. For the person I was. For the pain I carried. For the years I lost not knowing why I hurt. There’s a grief that comes with awareness, especially when it’s sudden. It’s like losing a part of yourself that held you together, even if it was dysfunctional.

I missed the numbing. I missed the oblivion. Because this clarity? It burns.

I started questioning everything.

Why do I tolerate what I do? Why was I okay with being silenced? Why did I think love was pain? Why did I shrink myself just to feel safe?

And the scariest one: Who am I without my wounds?

The Isolation of Awakening

No one prepares you for how lonely it gets.

When you start facing your shadow, not everyone claps. Some people pull away. Some mock it. Some get defensive, especially if your growth shines a light on their stagnation. Old friends don’t recognise you. Family doesn’t know what to do with you.

You might find yourself surrounded by people, yet feel entirely alone.

I did.

Because once you see certain truths, you can’t unsee them. And small talk doesn’t hit the same when you’re unravelling at the soul level.

When Feeling Better Feels Wrong

This part shocked me the most.

After enough time, something strange happened, I started to feel… okay. Not fixed. Not euphoric. But calm. Clear. Capable.

And that scared me.

Because for so long, chaos was home. Sadness was familiar. Anger was armour. Healing meant letting go of identities I’d worn like skin. It meant allowing peace, even when it felt unfamiliar.

Sometimes, we sabotage ourselves not because we don’t want to be better… but because we don’t know who we are without the suffering.

I had to teach myself how to receive ease. How to let good things in without flinching. How to accept love without looking for the exit wound.

Rebuilding in the Real World

Here’s the unsexy truth of it: Healing also means laundry. Rest. Food. Saying no. Unfollowing people. Going to bed early. Sitting in boredom without chasing dopamine. Learning your patterns and stopping halfway through.

It means being present, even when the present aches.

It means letting people go who don’t match your nervous system anymore.

It means noticing when you’re about to lie to yourself and choosing not to.

It means saying: I survived that. Now how do I want to live?

And it’s slow. Some days you’ll spiral. Some days you’ll laugh. Some days you’ll feel both in the same breath.

But that’s the aftershock. That’s where the true becoming begins.

You don’t need to glow. You don’t need to post. You don’t need to “prove” your healing to anyone.

You just need to keep showing up for yourself. Even when it’s quiet. Even when it’s weird. Even when it’s not linear.

Especially then.

✨ Soph x