Etikett: therapy

When the Cookbook Becomes Life’s Manual and Every Page a New Understanding

Dreams and Self-Reflection

Dreams and self-reflection sometimes weave together in the most unexpected ways.
Last night I remembered my dreams – two images that felt so close to what I’m living right now.
It’s about growth, learning, and turning pages – both in books and in life.
And perhaps most of all: about trusting the process where knowledge and experience slowly turn into inner safety.

Read this post in Swedish ->Drömmar och självreflektion – när livet blir lärande

Dreams and Self-Reflection – The Language of Dreams

First, I dreamed of little Emilia, my granddaughter.
We were sitting together with a cookbook, tearing out pages and putting the recipes in a new order.
It may sound strange, but it felt symbolic – as if we were creating new structures, new flavors in life.

Then came another dream: a book, and I turned the pages, one by one.
A simple act, yet filled with meaning.
I think those two dreams belong together – a reminder of how dreams and self-reflection can guide us through change.

Dreams and self-reflection in nature’s silence – mist rising between mountains and lake.

Between the mountains and the sky – where thoughts and dreams meet in silence.

Dreams and Self-Reflection in Motion

When I think about it, maybe the dreams weren’t that strange after all.
The cookbook Emilia and I worked on felt like an image of what I’m doing now – I’m not tearing knowledge apart, I’m simply rearranging it.
I’m moving recipes, trying new ways, and letting old wisdom take on new flavors.

That’s exactly how my studies feel – like a living form of dreams and self-reflection in motion.
I use everything I’ve learned over the years, but I do it in my own way now – with my voice, my experience, my heart.

And that other dream – the one where I turned the pages – is probably about trusting the process.
Letting life show its pages one at a time, without rushing to the end.
It’s the same feeling I carry in my education: not everything needs to be understood at once.
The important thing is that I’m in motion, in learning, in growth.

The dreams feel like confirmation.
I’m creating my own cookbook – not with recipes for food, but with recipes for connection.
Conversations, empathy, presence.
What I’m learning now isn’t new in itself – but the way I’m learning it anchors the knowledge deeply in my body.

Dreams and Self-Reflection – When Knowledge Takes Form

I’ve always had a lot of practical knowledge – steady, intuitive, natural.
But now, during my training as a therapeutic counselor, I’m gaining something I’ve missed: the chance to weave together experience and theory.

I notice it in every lesson. I get full marks on the assignments, not because I’m better than anyone else, but because I’ve carried this understanding in me for so long.
The difference now is that I understand why I do what I do.
It’s as if knowledge is moving from being learned to becoming integrated in the body – it lands, matures, and deepens.

But it’s more than that. It feels like knowledge has now found its home inside me, resting safely on a foundation that’s been reinforced.
As if I’ve drained away the surface-level knowledge built on others’ interpretations and begun to read between the lines within myself.

I no longer read just the back cover or someone else’s summary.
Now I build my understanding from within, from all the conversations I’ve had through the years working in treatment and care.
That’s where my foundation grows – from real people, real meetings, real emotions.

Previous courses gave me tools.
This education gives me depth, grounding, and confidence in what I already know – but now with language, theory, and awareness that make it whole.

I now feel more one with the knowledge – as if it has become part of my breathing, a way of seeing, listening, and understanding.
It’s as if I’m no longer standing beside the conversation – I’m inside it.
Knowledge is no longer something I carry – it carries me.

A Cold Swim and a Warm Heart

Of course, there was a swim today.
My lake sisters and I braved rain and wind – the water must have been below ten degrees, because it bit sharply at the skin.
But that’s the point: to breathe, feel, and be here, now.
When you step out of the water, endorphins meet the body’s defense, and everything becomes warm and still inside.

The swim, just like my studies, reminds me that growth happens through contrast.
The cold awakens warmth, discomfort leads to strength, and stillness carries learning.

Dreams and Self-Reflection – Rearranging Inside and Out

When I got home, the little one arrived – sniffly but happy.
Between nose blows, he helped me rearrange the living room – again.

My husband will probably shake his head and say, “What you can’t change inside yourself, you change on the outside.”
Maybe he’s right.
But I think it was me who planted that thought in him from the beginning – even if he’d never admit it today.

And maybe that’s how it is: every time I rearrange the furniture, something small inside me finds its place too.

Reflection

Maybe the dreams, the swim, the studies, and the rearranging all connect.
It’s all about movement, change, and allowing things to shift – both in thought and in space.
Last night I turned a page.
Today I rearranged the room.
And somewhere between those moments, a deeper understanding grew – a quiet calm that tells me I’m on the right path.

Everything is movement, change, and dreams and self-reflection woven into everyday life.

In every layer of mist lives a thought longing to be understood.

AHA – Between the Lines

What I feel most strongly right now is that I am part of my own development – right in the middle of what has always fascinated me most: the power of conversation.
Conversations heal.
They carry, lift, and mend – both the listener and the speaker.

I’m beginning to truly understand that it’s about trusting the process – not forcing, not knowing everything, but resting in the fact that it unfolds anyway.
Knowledge has taken on both body and soul.
And somewhere between theory and feeling, the conversation becomes a living space where people can truly meet.

“Yesterday has already found its rest in history, tomorrow waits farther ahead.
But right now – this is where life happens.”
— Carina Ikonen Nilsson

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A full moon in a clear blue sky – a symbol of leaving the victim role behind and letting the past rest while the light guides the way forward.

Leaving the Victim Role – Choosing Freedom and Presence

Av Carina Ikonen Nilsson

den 18 oktober 2025

i Malix – personligt & bloggen, Morgon & tacksamhet, Reflektion & självläkning, Utbildning & samtalsterapi

Leaving the victim role isn’t about denying what happened – it’s about understanding that the past doesn’t have to shape the future.
In this post, I reflect on how we can let go of what once was, meet our inner child with warmth, and choose thoughts that open the way to freedom, gratitude, and life in the present moment.

The moon reminds me that everything changes – the past can rest while new light takes form.

Read this post in Swedish →Lämna offerrollen – när historien får vila och jag väljer att leva nu

Morning, coffee, and a new beginning

My coffee stands beside me. The cat has gone out for her morning walk, and the silence inside feels calm and safe.
It’s one of those quiet mornings when something inside you has shifted, even though the world outside looks the same.

Yesterday… yes, everything that was yesterday, last week, last year, or even when I was little – all of that belongs to history now.
It’s already happened. I can’t change it, undo it, or polish away what still aches.

I’ve written before about how thoughts influence emotions in my post Living with Positive Psychology. It’s about consciously choosing where to place your focus – just like I do here.

When the past whispers – and how hard it can be to leave the victim role

I’ve spent many hours, maybe years, thinking about what happened back then.
Some memories hurt deeply; others carried guilt or shame.
When I thought about them, I got stuck in the same loop – same thoughts, same feelings, same pain.

It was like wearing an old cardigan – cold, itchy, and faintly smelling of something forgotten.
Still, I kept it on because it was familiar.
I thought, “I feel this way because that happened.”

A knitted cardigan hanging in soft morning light – a symbol of leaving the victim role behind and choosing warmth, self-love and a new way of living. — The old cardigan still hangs there, but the morning light reminds me – I can choose something new.

And so, I held on.
The cardigan became part of me.
The victim role too.

The victim role is like a quiet thief.
It steals joy, piece by piece.
It whispers that you can’t, that you’re stuck, that you’re helpless.
And it makes you believe someone else must save you.

But that old cardigan can feel kind of cozy too, can’t it?
It smells familiar, feels safe – almost soft against the skin.
There’s comfort in the known, like an old map we’ve memorized by heart.
But that map doesn’t lead anywhere anymore.
It takes us back to the same place, again and again.

And I want to move forward now.

Question for you:
Have you ever noticed yourself holding on to a thought that only hurts you?
Which “cardigan” do you keep wearing, even though you no longer need it?

The cardigan becomes a symbol for all the things we carry – what once felt safe but now holds us back.
Leaving the victim role begins right there, in the awareness that what feels safe isn’t always what helps us grow.

When I started listening to myself

One day, I grew tired of feeling cold in that old cardigan.
That was the day I met the curious Carina within me – the part of me that wants to understand, grow, take responsibility, and feel well.

I realized the past didn’t have to be my prison anymore.
It could become my teacher.

What hurts today often resembles what once hurt before.
Those are my triggers – small messages from the body whispering:
“Here lies something you haven’t yet healed.”

Each time I pause, breathe, and stay with what I feel instead of hiding from it, something quiet happens.
I grow.

Meeting the child within

I’ve realized I must give that little girl inside me what she never received.
The one who was scared, sad, unseen – she doesn’t have to wait for someone else to comfort her anymore.

I can place her on my lap, hold her close, and say:

“It wasn’t your fault.
You were worthy of love, warmth, and safety.
You were worthy of being loved – exactly as you are.”

When I’ve done that enough times, I can finally lay down the cardigan.

Question for you:
Can you see your own inner child?
What would you want to tell them – if you could speak today?

I write more about this in to heal you self.

Choosing a new sweater – and a new way of thinking

I’m trading that old cardigan for a soft wool sweater – one that warms instead of weighing me down.
The difference is, this sweater is one I’ve chosen myself.

It’s woven from awareness, responsibility, and gratitude.
From thoughts that strengthen rather than sting.

I can’t change what was, but I can change how I relate to it.
When old thoughts appear, I ask myself:
“Does this thought serve me right now?”

If the answer is no – I change it.
I choose a thought that brings warmth instead of cold.

Question for you:
Which thought would you like to start choosing more often?
One that makes you lighter, calmer – or simply more present right now?

Choosing to leave the victim role and live freely

Today, I choose happiness – not because everything is easy, but because I know I can.
I choose gratitude. I choose to meet myself with gentleness.

I no longer have to feel bad just because something once hurt.
Because now I know I have the right to feel good – despite it all.

When I decided to leave the victim role behind, life slowly began to feel lighter.

Right now, I sit here with coffee in hand and peace in my body.
I feel like my own best friend.

And that – that is freedom.

Reflection – Leaving the victim role in your own story

This is a text about outgrowing your history.
About no longer wearing the cardigan of the victim role, but instead choosing the sweater that truly warms.
To understand that it’s not what happened, but how we think about it, that shapes our day.

If you enjoy this kind of writing, you might also like Good Morning – What Do You Think About the New Layout?, where I write about how silence can teach us something about ourselves.

From my therapist training – a reflection

In my studies to become a certified counselor, I’m learning how thoughts, emotions, and bodily memories are intertwined.
When I write about leaving the victim role, it also mirrors what we practice in therapy – helping ourselves and others take responsibility for feelings, recognize triggers, and choose new ways of thinking.
Writing becomes my own conversation – a way to listen to myself and grow.

This text is about the courage to leave the victim role behind and embrace the possibility of living fully, here and now.

Between the Lines – What the Text Reveals

This is a text about the courage to see yourself without running away.
About daring to let go of what once felt safe, but now keeps you from moving forward.
It tells of how healing begins in something as quiet as a thought being replaced, a feeling being allowed to breathe, a choice made right here and now.

Between the lines, it is also about me – a woman who no longer carries her history as a burden, but as wisdom.
I have learned to leave the victim role without denying the pain.
To see it as a teacher, not a judge.
And it is in that stillness – between the coffee, the words, and the breath – that life truly happens.

“Yesterday’s cardigan might still hang there, breathing history – but it’s airing in today’s light and can change into the future.
Maybe it will be unraveled and knitted again, in today’s colors and feelings.”
— Carina Ikonen Nilsson

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