I Forgive Myself For Hiding From Love and Reclaiming the Exiled Self
Ryan is a Psychotherapist and Intuitive Guide, blending coaching and Tarot to help curious seekers navigate change, build meaningful lives, and create deeper connections.
We all have chapters we keep tucked away, silent scenes where we watched from the sidelines of our own lives. Heart guarded. Mouth quiet. Waiting for something to shift. This piece began as a poem. A reclaiming. A slow confession. But underneath the verse is a deeper pattern, one I’ve seen in myself and in the people I work with. Here, I want to tease out that map: to name the terrain we move through when we hide from love, and the path that eventually calls us home.
What follows are nine key insights markers along the journey. If you’re somewhere in the process of reclaiming yourself, this is for you.
1. Veiling the heart: The intellect as armour
"For veiling my heart in the shadows of thought."
Many of us, especially the self-aware and reflective types, learn to intellectualise our pain. We create distance through analysis, forming narratives that help us feel in control, but often at the cost of deeper contact. Thought becomes a fortress. Logic is a disguise for longing. It can feel safer to 'understand' love than to feel it.
But true connection doesn’t bloom in the head. It stirs in the gut. It cracks open in the chest.
2. The inner defenders: How our wounds speak
"For letting the defenders within chant their stories of loss, of violence, of pain."
Our defences are not the enemy. They were born for good reason, built by younger versions of ourselves trying to make sense of chaos. But when those parts lead the way indefinitely, we remain stuck in a reactive cycle, overly cautious, mistrustful, always scanning for the next hit.
Healing begins when we thank them and gently ask them to rest.
3. The cost of safety: Exile from the flame
"Safe, but exiled from the warmth of my own flame."
There's a difference between being safe and being alive. The quest to avoid pain can also cut us off from joy, desire, and spontaneity. To reawaken the flame means risking discomfort.
It means learning to sit with the heat of love, of uncertainty, of being truly seen.
4. Witnessing the self from afar
"I held back. Watched from afar, learning what I could from the sidelines."
Distance can offer clarity, but too much of it breeds disconnection. There’s a point where observing turns into bypassing. We convince ourselves we're evolving when really, we’re avoiding the initial messiness of presence.
The invitation is not to figure it all out, but to re-enter the field. To feel again. To participate.
5. The turning point: A return to the self
"I am the one I have been searching for."
There’s a quiet moment sometimes after much striving and aching, when we realise no saviour is coming. And strangely, it’s not always bleak. It can be liberating. We become the witness, the lover, the parent, the steady hand we’ve been craving, not in perfection, but in presence.
It’s less about “fixing the situation” and more about staying with ourselves despite it.
6. The beauty in the ordinary: Love without grand gestures
"Morning light on closed eyelids. The slow pour of the kettle. My cat’s white whiskers."
Enduring love is rarely a fireworks show. More often, it’s a quiet noticing a return to the ordinary made sacred by presence. When we stop outsourcing our wholeness, looking outside to validate what’s inside, even the smallest moments hold intimacy.
The mundane, your everyday life, becomes the medicine you’ve been seeking.
7. Meeting the micro-abandonments
"All the micro-abandonments now clearly reflected in the pit of my stomach."
Abandonment is a strong word, yet, due to the roaming nature of our minds, we do it all the time. Often unconsciously. We drift from ourselves in small, habitual ways: silencing what we truly feel, overriding gut instincts, choosing habit over alignment. To commit to ourselves is not a one-time vow; it’s a lifelong rhythm. A daily return, especially as we continue to shift and change. The body doesn’t lie. It registers the distance before the mind catches on. That clench in the gut, the tightness in the chest, the sudden fog of disconnection, these are signals.
Awareness can sting. It often brings grief. But it also cracks open a new path, one paved with self-loyalty, one quiet yes at a time.
8. Forgiveness as remembrance, not obligation
"I forgive myself not because I must, but because in the remembrance of my own innocence, the stars alight with wonder."
Forgiveness isn’t a spiritual bypass. It’s an unravelling. A soft exhale. A reconnection to the purity that still lives within, untouched by the layers we’ve worn and the experiences we’ve had. It’s not about erasing what’s been done, but about reclaiming the one who was there the whole time—tender, vulnerable, innocent.
That ‘you’ never truly goes anywhere. It’s a homecoming to the truest layer of your soul. And in that return, something vast stirs. Your eyes may mist with recognition of this eternal dimension within you and alongside it, a renewed sense of wonder for life returns.
9. Love, embodied and ever-present
"Wordless, love. Always here, never far."
In the end, love doesn’t need to be chased. It’s what we’re made of. It waits quietly beneath the noise, under the armour, beyond the stories we tell ourselves. When we choose stillness, when we choose tenderness, it comes back into our awareness.
Or rather, we do.
If you’re in a moment of transition, navigating heartbreak, the quiet ache of awakening, or the disorientation that comes with growth, know this: nothing is broken in you. The journey inward is rarely linear, but it’s rich with meaning.
If something stirred in you while reading, if there’s a pull you can’t quite name but know it’s time to move differently, consider this your invitation.
This is the work I do: helping people tune into the deeper frequencies beneath the noise the signals your psyche sends and your body quietly registers.
I offer 1:1 sessions for soulful seekers ready to meet themselves honestly and begin moving with clarity. Practical, intuitive, and grounded in deep listening, my work helps you see what’s been waiting to land.
If your wisdom knows, follow that. I’ll meet you here.
Read more from Ryan Findlay
Ryan Findlay, Transformational Coach and Intuitive Guide
Ryan is a Psychotherapist and Intuitive Guide, specialising in Tarot as an efficient tool for subconscious change, emotional release, and clarity as clients move through life’s transitions. Known for his grounded, relatable approach, Ryan serves as both a compass and a steadying hand. His mission is to guide others toward game-changing insights, deeper connections, and aligned, empowered living.
