The Guest in the House
Recently, I found myself revisiting some familiar feelings.
Not because anything had gone wrong.
In many ways, life was full. There had been connection, celebration, shared moments, and the gentle busyness that accompanies a meaningful life.
Yet as the rhythm of those days began to change, I noticed something shift within me.
Old feelings surfaced.
Not overwhelming.
Not unfamiliar.
Just present.
For a moment, I found myself wondering why certain feelings can still appear after years of reflection, therapy, growth, and healing.
Then a different question emerged.
What if the return of an old feeling is not evidence that something is wrong?
What if it is simply evidence that we are human?
For much of my life, healing felt like movement.
Learning.
Understanding.
Growing.
Making sense of things.
Gradually developing greater awareness of myself and how my experiences had shaped me.
Like many people, there were periods when life demanded my attention elsewhere.
There were responsibilities to meet, decisions to make, people to care for, work to do, and a life to build.
Then, later, when life became a little safer, I found myself able to turn towards parts of myself that had been waiting patiently to be seen.
That journey brought insight, compassion, understanding, and at times profound relief.
Yet I have come to realise that healing is rarely a straight line.
Life unfolds in layers.
Just when we imagine a chapter has been fully understood, another layer quietly presents itself.
Not because we failed to heal.
Not because we are back where we started.
But because we are now able to meet something that previously sat beyond our awareness.
This feels very different.
Recently, I noticed the temptation to judge myself for having certain feelings.
Shouldn't I be beyond this by now?
Shouldn't I have dealt with this already?
But the more I sat with those questions, the less helpful they became.
Old feelings returning are not evidence that healing has failed.
Sometimes they are evidence that another layer is ready to be met.
That reflection led me to think about two common responses to emotional pain.
One is becoming lost within the story.
Allowing our wounds, losses, disappointments, and difficulties to become the primary lens through which we understand ourselves.
The other is moving too quickly beyond the story.
Attempting to rise above pain before it has been fully acknowledged.
Neither feels wholly true to me.
I do not want to define myself by what has happened to me.
But neither do I want to deny the reality of what has shaped me.
I have come to believe that healing asks something more nuanced of us.
The willingness to say:
Yes, this happened.
Yes, it mattered.
Yes, it shaped me.
Without automatically concluding:
Therefore, this is who I am.
As I reflected on this, I found myself returning to Rumi's beautiful image of the guest house.
Over the years, many visitors have arrived at my door.
Joy.
Grief.
Loss.
Love.
Longing.
Hope.
Fear.
Some have stayed longer than I would have chosen.
Others passed through before I fully recognised their presence.
What strikes me now is that neither victimhood nor bypassing really welcomes the guest.
One invites the guest to move in permanently.
The other refuses to answer the door.
Perhaps healing asks something different of us.
To open the door.
To acknowledge what has arrived.
To listen to what it has come to teach.
And to remember that whilst the guest may be real, it is not the house.
For me, that feels like a more compassionate way of being with myself.
A way of honouring my experience without becoming defined by it.
🌿
Dr Maliheh (Mali) Taheri
M.A.L.I. Neuro-Somatic Practice
Reflect. Reconnect. Grow.
