Nearly twenty years ago, I experienced what I now understand to be a spiritual awakening—a dark night of the soul. But at the time, my attempt to embrace this deeply personal and transformative experience was met with fear, skepticism, and ultimately, suppression. In the eyes of the world, my withdrawal into solitude and reflection wasn’t seen as a healthy process. Instead, it was labeled as abnormal, unsafe, and even dangerous. Within a single half-hour appointment, a doctor decided I needed medication to prevent a supposed descent into depression.
That decision, made hastily and without understanding the nature of my experience, almost killed me. The treatment, which was supposed to save me, plunged me into a physical and emotional crisis that I could never have anticipated. Instead of allowing me the time and space to grow, I was forced back into a system that neither understood nor valued the spiritual journey I was on. It wasn’t just a personal betrayal; it was a pattern I would later recognize as systemic.
Society has trained us to distrust spirituality, to dismiss solitude as laziness or isolation, and to pathologize natural periods of grief, growth, or reflection. From the structure of our education system to the grind of our work culture, we’re taught that our worth lies in productivity, not in the sacred rhythms of life and healing. And yet, everything—science, spirituality, and even scripture—points to the truth that these rhythms are essential for our well-being.
This became especially clear to me during a recent, prolonged moment of awakening—the third dark night of the soul I’ve experienced and one that I likely would have experienced and healed my own inner child through when it tried to begin the second time around if I had been allowed to fully experience it—triggered by a series of health crises and family deaths. As a caregiver during these times, I had no choice but to retreat. The sheer exhaustion from caregiving made me not want to see or deal with people for months. That retreat into solitude, born out of necessity, began as an instinctive withdrawal to process pain and exhaustion. But after about six months, I could hear God, through my intuition, speaking clearly to me:
“There is something huge here for you in your spiritual growth if you truly embrace solitude and allow the healing process through introspective writing, meditation, study, prayer, and inner work.”
By this third dark night of the soul, I had learned how to listen and trust both God and myself. Despite the judgment and misunderstandings of those around me—friends and family included—I knew that this time, I needed to fully surrender to the process. Only one person in my life didn’t question or judge me, and that was because he had already borne witness to my earlier spiritual crises. In fact, he had even been the one to push for the medical intervention that nearly cost me my life during my first awakening—an irony we both can laugh about now.
What I realized during this experience is that we all need time to pause, to retreat into solitude, and to process the challenges life throws at us. Whether it’s 15 minutes a day, one day a week, or even a year after a particularly difficult decade, these moments of intentional withdrawal are essential for our healing. This need for pause became painfully obvious during the collective trauma of global lockdowns. Instead of being given time to process the reality of what was happening, many of us were thrust back into the grind with little acknowledgment of what we’d endured. It’s no wonder so many people feel stuck, unfulfilled, and disconnected.
For me, this recent awakening became a lifestyle rather than a temporary pause. What started as six months of retreat grew into a way of living that aligned my work with my spiritual calling. I restructured my life to focus on healing and growth, transforming what society demands as “work” into something that nourished my soul. We are not made to grind away doing work we hate just to survive, especially when our experiences and purpose point us in another direction. Whether someone is called to art, journalism, caregiving, or even customer service, they must honor their soul’s voice. Imagine if only those who truly felt called to customer service worked in those roles—how much better would the world be?
In this piece, I want to challenge the stigma around spiritual awakening and explore the vital differences between a dark night of the soul and true mental health crises like depression. By understanding these differences, we can learn to honor the journey of healing, growth, and connection with God—even when it calls us into deep solitude.
Understanding Spiritual Awakening
Spiritual awakening is often misunderstood, partly because it defies the frameworks through which we typically understand human behavior. At its core, a spiritual awakening is a profound shift in awareness—a journey from living on autopilot to becoming deeply attuned to one’s inner self, the divine, and the interconnectedness of all life.
One of the most intense phases of this journey is often referred to as the “dark night of the soul,” a term popularized by mystics like St. John of the Cross. During this period, individuals may feel stripped of the familiar—relationships, routines, beliefs, and even their sense of identity. This stripping away is not destruction for its own sake but a necessary process to uncover deeper truths. In the same way a seed must break apart to sprout, the soul often breaks free of its shell in moments of solitude and silence.
For many, this process feels isolating and painful. It’s natural to pull away from the world during this time. Solitude is essential, not as a rejection of life but as an opportunity to recalibrate. This is where society’s misunderstanding often begins. When someone withdraws, we label it as avoidance or dysfunction. But in truth, this withdrawal is an ancient, sacred process—a retreat into oneself to find what has been lost.
In fact, many spiritual traditions emphasize the importance of solitude and contemplation. Jesus himself spent 40 days in the wilderness before beginning his ministry, a period of fasting, prayer, and profound spiritual growth. Across cultures and eras, monks, mystics, and seekers have turned inward to hear the voice of God, their intuition, or the universe. It’s a practice rooted in wisdom: we cannot grow outward until we heal inward.
The problem arises when this sacred journey is viewed through the lens of modern productivity and wellness culture. Withdrawal, introspection, and change in habits are interpreted as red flags rather than necessary steps. But a true spiritual awakening doesn’t conform to a schedule—it moves in its own time, often demanding weeks, months, or even years of healing and transformation.
Spiritual awakening is not the same as depression, anxiety, or agoraphobia. But because it often looks like withdrawal or sadness on the surface, it is misinterpreted as pathology. Herein lies the danger: treating a spiritual experience as an illness can not only halt the process but actively harm the person undergoing it, as I experienced firsthand.
The Danger of Misdiagnosing Spiritual Growth
In a world that prizes speed, productivity, and external appearances, spiritual growth is often misinterpreted as a problem to be fixed rather than a journey to be honored. The moment someone begins to step back—whether to process grief, heal from trauma, or embark on a spiritual awakening—the pressure to “normalize” them begins. Well-meaning friends, family, and even medical professionals may view solitude and inner transformation as dangerous signs of depression, anxiety, or other disorders. And because of this misinterpretation, what should be a time of growth often becomes a battle for survival.
When my own spiritual awakening was misdiagnosed as depression and anxiety, the treatment did more harm than good. A single appointment, less than thirty minutes long, was enough for a doctor to prescribe medication to “fix” me. What followed was not healing but a cascade of physical and emotional side effects: a descent into suicidal thoughts, debilitating health issues, and an even greater sense of isolation. The irony was cruel—what was meant to prevent harm became the very thing that endangered my life.
This is not just my story. Countless individuals experience similar journeys. They seek understanding but instead are met with quick fixes and standardized solutions. The medical system, though invaluable in many ways, is often ill-equipped to recognize the nuances of spiritual experiences. Its focus on symptoms rather than context means that solitude, fatigue, or changes in behavior are immediately labeled as pathological. Rarely is the question asked: What is this person experiencing at a deeper level?
The harm goes beyond the individual. Misdiagnosing spiritual growth perpetuates a societal narrative that disconnects us from the sacred. We are taught to fear our own inner worlds, to suppress our instincts to rest, reflect, and retreat. Instead of being encouraged to sit with discomfort and seek meaning, we are urged to numb ourselves and return to the grind as quickly as possible.
This rush to “fix” spiritual seekers reflects a deeper cultural discomfort with stillness and transformation. We live in a world that values certainty and control, yet spiritual awakening is inherently uncertain and uncontrollable. It asks us to surrender, to let go of what no longer serves us, and to trust in a process that defies logic. For those who have never experienced this, it can look like chaos. But for those walking the path, it is the only way to true freedom.
The danger is not just in misdiagnosing spiritual experiences as mental illness—it is in the broader suppression of the soul’s need to grow. By pathologizing natural periods of grief, reflection, or change, we rob individuals of the chance to evolve. And when we deny people the time and space to connect with themselves and the divine, we reinforce systems that keep them disconnected from their purpose.
Society’s Fear of Spirituality and Solitude
To understand why spiritual awakening is so often misunderstood, we need to look at the broader context of our culture—a culture that fears solitude, devalues spirituality, and prioritizes productivity above all else. From an early age, we are conditioned to see stillness and introspection as signs of failure. The message is clear: if you’re not constantly doing, achieving, and contributing, you’re falling behind. This conditioning runs so deep that when someone takes time to retreat into themselves, it is often seen as a red flag rather than a sacred act.
This societal discomfort with solitude is rooted in systems that seek to control and homogenize. From preschool onward, we are trained to conform to rigid schedules and external expectations. We are taught to silence our inner voices in favor of authority, whether it’s a teacher, employer, or institution. Over time, this disconnection from ourselves becomes the norm. The idea of stepping away from the hustle, even temporarily, feels like rebellion.
But rebellion is precisely what the spiritual journey often requires. True growth cannot happen when we are enslaved to systems that deny the cyclical nature of life. Nature itself operates in rhythms: seasons of growth, harvest, rest, and renewal. Yet modern society ignores these rhythms, demanding constant output regardless of the toll it takes on our minds, bodies, and souls.
This relentless pace leaves no room for the deeper work of healing and transformation. Grief, for instance, is expected to follow a timeline. A few days off for a loss, and then back to work. Trauma is treated as a problem to be managed, not a wound to be gently tended to over time. The same applies to spiritual awakening—there’s no space in our collective imagination for someone to step away, to say, “I need time to connect with God,” without being labeled as dysfunctional.
The fear of spirituality itself plays a significant role. True spirituality—especially the kind that calls for solitude and introspection—challenges the status quo. It asks us to question the systems we participate in, to reassess our values, and to consider the possibility of living differently. These are dangerous ideas in a society built on compliance and consumption. The more connected we are to ourselves and the divine, the less likely we are to blindly follow. And so, spirituality is often trivialized or suppressed, reduced to a set of practices that fit neatly into our busy lives rather than a radical transformation of the soul.
Ironically, this suppression is self-defeating. Science and spirituality both point to the importance of rest, reflection, and connection. Studies show that time spent in solitude can reduce stress, enhance creativity, and improve overall well-being. Spiritual traditions across cultures affirm that moments of retreat are necessary for renewal. Even the Bible speaks to this: Jesus often withdrew to pray alone, and the Psalms are filled with calls to “be still” and trust in God’s plan. Yet our society tells us the opposite: that stillness is unproductive, that solitude is selfish, and that spirituality is either outdated or dangerous.
By rejecting these sacred practices, we not only harm ourselves but also reinforce a system that denies our humanity. We were not created to grind endlessly, disconnected from the rhythms of nature and the guidance of the divine. We were created to live fully, to rest deeply, and to grow spiritually. And that requires stepping away from the noise, no matter how uncomfortable it makes the world around us.
Recognizing the Value of Spiritual Solitude
Spiritual solitude is one of the most misunderstood yet profoundly healing practices available to us. It is not merely the absence of activity or interaction but an intentional retreat from the noise of the world to listen deeply to our souls and to God. In solitude, we find space to grieve, reflect, and heal without the constant pressure to explain ourselves or perform for others. This practice is not only valuable but essential for those navigating periods of spiritual awakening, grief, or personal transformation.
Throughout history, solitude has been recognized as a sacred tool for renewal. The Bible is filled with examples of spiritual leaders seeking God in solitude. Moses encountered the burning bush while tending sheep in the wilderness. Elijah heard God’s voice not in the earthquake or fire but in the still, small whisper of silence. Jesus, too, often withdrew to desolate places to pray, especially before pivotal moments in his ministry. These moments of solitude were not acts of avoidance but preparation for growth and purpose.
Modern science affirms what spiritual traditions have long taught: solitude can be profoundly beneficial. Studies have shown that time spent in reflection and quiet helps regulate emotions, improve focus, and foster creativity. It can also reduce stress and promote mental clarity, providing a necessary counterbalance to the overstimulation of daily life. For those experiencing a spiritual awakening, solitude is not a sign of dysfunction—it is a tool for recalibration and growth.
Yet despite its proven benefits, solitude is often stigmatized. We live in a culture that prizes connection, busyness, and productivity, leaving little room for stillness. Taking time away is seen as indulgent, or worse, as evidence of depression or withdrawal. But solitude is not about running from the world; it is about returning to ourselves and to God. It is in these quiet moments that we can hear what the noise of daily life often drowns out—the voice of our intuition, the guidance of the divine, and the truth of who we are.
For many, spiritual solitude is a time to process deep emotions and past traumas. Grief, for example, cannot be rushed. It is a natural and necessary response to loss, yet society often demands that we “move on” far too quickly. Similarly, trauma requires time and care to heal. Spiritual solitude offers a safe space to navigate these experiences without judgment or expectation. It allows us to reconnect with the divine rhythms of life, honoring the seasons of rest and renewal that are as vital as the seasons of growth and action.
It is important to remember that solitude is not the same as isolation. Solitude is chosen and purposeful, while isolation is often imposed or stems from fear. In spiritual solitude, we are not cutting ourselves off from the world permanently but stepping back temporarily to gain perspective, strength, and insight. When we emerge, we are often better equipped to engage with others and fulfill our purpose.
Recognizing the value of spiritual solitude requires a shift in how we view rest and reflection. It means giving ourselves—and others—permission to take the time needed to heal and grow. It means challenging the societal norms that equate busyness with worth and productivity with success. Most importantly, it means trusting that the process of retreat and renewal is not only healthy but divinely inspired.
Learning to Differentiate: Depression vs. Spiritual Awakening
One of the greatest challenges for individuals and professionals alike is distinguishing between depression and spiritual awakening. Both can involve periods of withdrawal, sadness, and profound introspection, but they arise from fundamentally different causes and demand very different responses. Misinterpreting one for the other can lead to unnecessary suffering, missed opportunities for growth, or harmful interventions that hinder the healing process.
The Overlap: Why They Are Often Confused
Depression and spiritual awakening share several outward signs:
• Withdrawal from social activities and routines.
• A sense of sadness or loss.
• Changes in sleep, appetite, or daily habits.
• A longing for something that feels “missing” or unfulfilled.
Because of these similarities, the medical community often assumes that sadness, withdrawal, or disrupted habits must indicate a mental health disorder. But while depression tends to drain a person’s vitality and hope, spiritual awakening often stirs a deep longing for renewal and truth. The confusion arises when this longing feels heavy or overwhelming, which can happen during the early stages of awakening.
Key Differences Between Depression and Spiritual Awakening
To differentiate between the two, it’s essential to consider the broader context of the experience. Below are some markers to help identify the distinction:
Depression and spiritual awakening can appear similar on the surface, but they are fundamentally different experiences that require distinct approaches to healing. Depression often arises from unresolved trauma, chemical imbalances, or deep emotional pain, creating a pervasive sense of hopelessness and stagnation. It is marked by persistent fatigue, a lack of motivation, and feelings of being stuck or disconnected from purpose. People experiencing depression frequently describe their lives as aimless, with no clear direction or meaning.
In contrast, spiritual awakening is a transformative process that, while challenging, is ultimately about growth and renewal. It is often triggered by significant life changes, a hunger for deeper meaning, or an internal call to evolve. Though it can involve sadness, introspection, and a temporary withdrawal from routines, spiritual awakening is driven by a desire for truth and alignment with one’s higher purpose. Those experiencing awakening often report moments of clarity, even amid discomfort, as they sense they are “in process” rather than permanently lost.
While depression tends to deplete energy and drain vitality, spiritual awakening may cause fluctuating energy levels—periods of low energy are often followed by bursts of insight, creativity, or spiritual connection. Additionally, depression can feel like being trapped in a heavy fog with no way out, whereas awakening, though painful at times, carries a sense of movement and transformation, as if something greater is unfolding.
The path to healing also differs. Depression often responds well to medical or therapeutic interventions, such as counseling or medication to stabilize symptoms. In contrast, spiritual awakening requires space, solitude, and practices that foster inner reflection, such as meditation, prayer, or creative expression. Awakening demands patience and trust in the process, allowing the soul to recalibrate and integrate new insights.
Understanding these differences is crucial. Treating a spiritual awakening as if it were depression can interrupt the natural process of growth, while ignoring the serious symptoms of depression can delay necessary medical care. By looking at the root cause, energy patterns, and overall context of the experience, individuals and professionals alike can better discern which path of support is needed.
Practical Steps for Individuals
For those navigating these experiences, discernment is key. Start by asking yourself:
• Am I feeling a sense of hopelessness, or am I being called to go deeper within?
• Do I feel stuck, or do I sense that this struggle is part of a larger journey?
• Am I resisting the process because it’s unfamiliar, or do I truly need external support?
Trusting your intuition is essential. Spiritual awakening can feel disorienting, but it often comes with moments of clarity, glimpses of purpose, or a sense of divine guidance. Depression, by contrast, often feels like a heavy fog with no visible path forward.
Guidelines for Medical Professionals
For doctors, therapists, and counselors, it’s crucial to approach clients with sensitivity and curiosity rather than rushing to diagnose. Key questions to explore include:
• What has recently changed in the person’s life or perspective?
• Are they describing spiritual or existential questions, such as the meaning of life or their connection to God?
• Do they have a history of spiritual or religious experiences that might provide context for their current state?
Instead of immediately prescribing medication or labeling the experience as pathological, professionals can explore non-invasive approaches like talk therapy, mindfulness, or encouraging spiritual practices. For many individuals, simply having their experience validated as part of a natural spiritual process can provide immense relief.
The Risk of Rushing to Diagnose
Labeling spiritual awakening as depression or anxiety can not only interrupt the healing process but actively harm the individual. When spiritual seekers are pushed back into the grind of daily life with medications or interventions that suppress their emotional depth, they are denied the opportunity to grow into their fuller selves. Worse, they may internalize the message that their spiritual journey is invalid or dangerous, cutting them off from future growth.
Honoring the Process
The key is patience—both for individuals and those supporting them. Spiritual awakening unfolds in its own time, often requiring discomfort and uncertainty as old patterns are dismantled. Rather than rushing to “fix” the discomfort, we must learn to honor it as part of the process. Depression may demand treatment and stabilization, but spiritual awakening calls for trust, solitude, and space to heal.
Embracing Spiritual Healing
In a world that often demands constant activity, embracing spiritual healing requires courage. It means stepping away from the relentless pressure to conform and allowing ourselves the time and space to heal, grow, and reconnect with God. This process, though vital, is often misunderstood and even resisted by those around us. But the truth is, spiritual healing is not just a personal journey—it is an act of defiance against systems that seek to suppress the soul.
The first step in embracing spiritual healing is granting yourself permission to rest, reflect, and grow at your own pace. This can be difficult in a culture that equates productivity with worth, but it is essential. Healing is not linear, and it cannot be rushed. Whether you are processing grief, navigating a dark night of the soul, or simply feeling called to retreat, trust that this time is necessary for your renewal.
Consider the natural world: winter is a season of rest and restoration, preparing the earth for spring. In the same way, our souls need seasons of quiet to prepare for growth. Trying to skip these periods not only stunts our development but can lead to deeper exhaustion and disconnection. Instead, we must learn to honor these rhythms as sacred and essential.
One of the greatest challenges of spiritual healing is dealing with resistance—both internal and external. Internally, you may struggle with guilt or fear, wondering if taking time for yourself is selfish or unproductive. Externally, friends, family, or colleagues may not understand your need for solitude or change, urging you to “snap out of it” or return to normal.
It’s important to remember that resistance is often a sign that you are moving in the right direction. Growth is uncomfortable, and it challenges the status quo. By standing firm in your need for healing, you are setting boundaries that protect your soul. Surround yourself with people who respect your journey and seek out communities or resources that validate your experience.
Practical Tools for Spiritual Healing
Embracing spiritual healing doesn’t mean isolating yourself entirely. It means intentionally creating a space where you can connect with yourself and the divine. Here are a few tools and practices to support your journey:
1. Journaling: Writing down your thoughts, feelings, and experiences can help you process emotions and gain clarity about your path.
2. Meditation and Prayer: Whether it’s silent meditation or speaking openly with God, these practices create moments of stillness and connection.
3. Nature Retreats: Spending time in nature can help you realign with the rhythms of the earth and find peace away from the chaos of daily life.
4. Reading Spiritual Texts: The Bible, spiritual memoirs, or teachings from other traditions can provide wisdom and encouragement.
5. Creative Expression: Art, music, or other forms of creativity can help you channel your experiences and emotions into something meaningful.
For those who prefer referencing spiritual texts and teachings for guidance, comfort and encouragement, books are a wonderful tool. For example, the Bible offers profound reassurance for those navigating spiritual healing. Verses like Matthew 11:28—“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest”—remind us that rest is not only allowed but divinely supported. Similarly, Psalm 23 speaks of God leading us to still waters and restoring our souls, a promise that healing and renewal are always within reach.
When we embrace spiritual healing, we are living out these truths. We are trusting in God’s plan, even when it feels uncertain, and allowing Him to guide us through the valleys into a greater understanding of ourselves and His purpose for our lives.
Ultimately, spiritual healing is not just about overcoming pain—it is about transformation. It is about shedding old identities, beliefs, and habits that no longer serve us and stepping into a fuller, freer version of ourselves. This process can be messy and uncomfortable, but it is also deeply rewarding. When we emerge from the other side, we are more connected to God, more aligned with our purpose, and more capable of living authentically.
In a world that often misunderstands and resists the sacred process of spiritual awakening, reclaiming spiritual freedom is an act of courage and faith. It means trusting the call to go within, even when others don’t understand. It means allowing ourselves the time and space to heal, grow, and reconnect with God, even when society pressures us to conform to its relentless pace.
The journey of spiritual awakening is not always easy, but it is profoundly necessary. It challenges us to face discomfort, release what no longer serves us, and embrace the unknown. It invites us to trust in divine timing rather than the artificial timelines imposed by the world. And it reminds us that we are not here to simply survive—we are here to live fully, authentically, and spiritually aligned.
A Call to Honor the Journey: A Vision for Change
To those navigating their own dark night of the soul, know this: you are not broken, and you are not alone. What you are experiencing is a sacred process, one that countless others have walked before you. It is okay to feel lost or unsure; transformation often feels that way. But beneath the surface, God is working within you, guiding you toward greater clarity, strength, and purpose.
To those supporting others on this path, approach with patience and compassion. Recognize the difference between true mental health challenges and the deep inner work of spiritual growth. Hold space for those who need time to heal, and resist the urge to “fix” what may not be broken.
As a society, we must move beyond the narrow frameworks that pathologize natural processes like grief, introspection, and spiritual awakening. We must honor the sacred rhythms of life—the seasons of rest, reflection, and renewal—and create spaces where people can heal without fear of judgment or interference.
This vision for change starts with us. By reclaiming our own spiritual freedom, we model a different way of being—one that prioritizes connection over productivity, stillness over constant motion, and authenticity over compliance. In doing so, we not only transform ourselves but also inspire others to embark on their own journeys of healing and growth.
Closing Reflection
The Bible tells us, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). In the stillness, we find clarity. In the solitude, we find strength. And in the journey inward, we find the freedom to live as God intended—whole, healed, and deeply connected to Him.
May we each have the courage to embrace this journey, to trust in its timing, and to honor the sacred work of spiritual awakening. And may we walk this path not only for ourselves but for the greater healing of the world.
The Twin Tree Project 