Betwen Chaos and Consciousness

 

Between Chaos and Consciousness

An Attempt to Understand Ourselves

Sometimes, I don’t feel like one person.

I feel like fragments.

There is the strong one —
the one who learned how to endure.

There is the fragile one —
the one who still flinches at certain tones of voice.

There is the dreamer —
who quietly folded her dreams and placed them in a drawer.

And then there is the observer —
the conscious self who watches them all,
trying to make sense of the noise.

I remember a night when I smiled at everyone in the room,
yet felt completely absent from myself.
It was as if the “functioning” part of me had taken over,
while the rest stood somewhere in the dark.

Psychologically, this is not weakness.
It is adaptation.

When the mind cannot hold everything at once,
it divides —
not to break,
but to survive.

The real question is not,
“Can these fragments ever come together?”

The deeper question is this:

Are we ready to face each piece
without shame?

Integration does not mean erasing the past.
It does not mean fixing every wound.

It means recognizing
that each fragment was once a strategy —
a way to endure something we did not yet know how to process.

What keeps the pieces apart
is often shame.

Or the harsh voice that says,
“You should have been stronger.”

Or the desire to present only the polished version of ourselves.

But wholeness does not come from perfection.

It comes from permission.

From allowing every part of us
to sit at the same table
without being judged.

Philosophically, we are not fixed beings.

We are movement.

Identity is not a destination.
It is a meeting place.

And when we stop running from ourselves,
something quiet happens.

Not dramatic.
Not loud.

But steady.

Peace begins there.

We do not become someone new.

We simply become
fully ourselves.