At this point in my work, I had witnessed hundreds of healings on others and myself, navigated between the intersection and identities of being a Hmong woman, an eldest daughter, a Hmong shaman, a healer, a businesswoman, and so much more. I was committed to a lifestyle of continuous healing and betterment of myself, and I thought this part was over already.

So when my spirit guides and Creator sat me down for a chat in the winter of 2024—a few months after I left my 9-5 and before I knew I'd write this book—I didn't expect what came next.

I hopped into my office chair cross-legged, closed my eyes, and went in. "What's up, guys?"

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"Crystal," Creator gently spoke. "You are heading into a new timeline. One that will serve your highest and best."

"But," My guides chimed in, "To do so, you have to heal the reason why you started this journey. The belief that motivated and led you on this path."

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"What do you mean?" I asked. "I thought I already did?"​

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I tilted my head, deciding I'd go with whatever they were asking. I began to think back on the beginnings of my journey like a child lost in thought. "Oh! Could it be when I broke off my engagement? Maybe that was my motivation?"

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Silence.

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"Yeah," I continued to convince myself. "When I broke off my engagement because of the infidelity. The cheating. That moment motivated me to heal others."

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More silence.

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And in that more silence, I thought I needed to explain more. "'Cause I was broken from that, right?"

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My first lesson in my healing journey was learning that we, as beings, are motivated by various factors. These factors form our belief systems, and whether those motivations truly served our highest and best is something that can only be seen, discovered, and understood by no one but ourselves.

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"Crystal," the Creator called my name without any hint of annoyance—though I was annoyed that I couldn't figure it out myself. "Look deeper." I could sense them smiling, full of faith in me.

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Okay.

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So I took a deep breath, surrendered, and looked deeper.

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I asked Creator to show me and was taken back to the year 2021.

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One year had already passed since I broke off my engagement, and I was trying to learn how to live again after my self-worth, self-value, and identity had been demolished, diminished, and demonized by those closest to me and my own community.

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In that same year, when I was learning how to become again, a family member close to me passed, and I started seeing and feeling things that weren't considered normal.

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Figures. Silhouettes. Energy.

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But this wasn't anything new to me, personally. As a child, I had lived experiencing the paranormal, and didn't really expect anything less at this point in my life. I knew the passing would attract these kinds of beings and energies.

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However, I didn't expect to be directly impacted. The family member I lost began visiting me not only in dreams, but also while I was awake, asking me to send messages to the physical plane—the human plane of existence. Visits were nightly, and during the day, I'd swear I'd seen shadows or someone looking back at me. When I finally mustered enough courage to tell people what I was experiencing, it fell on deaf ears.

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"Just tell them to go away, tell them not to bother you." That's what I was told by an elder I trusted and respected. Though it never sat well with me—their advice—I'd repeat it back to the Soul.

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"Go away." I'd repeat. During this time, I didn't have the healing tools (literally and metaphorically) I had today. I wasn't aware of exactly how gifted I was yet, and because I was raised to be fearful of these encounters, I felt confused. When this person was alive, they were someone I loved.

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But now that they're gone, I am to treat them as an enemy?

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My heart hurt. My head was confused.

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But what could I do? I was taught to listen. So being the filial daughter I was, I obeyed the elder and told the Soul to reach someone else in the family. And they did, but then they returned to no avail, and this time, they begged me.

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They begged me to keep trying.

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So I did. Again. And again. And again.

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So much so that I was eventually called crazy by those closest to me.

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I thought that when I decided to leave my 10-year relationship, that would be one of the deepest, darkest moments of my life.

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But being gaslighted by those I highly respected, being worn down by the questioning of those closest to me, and being asked again and again, "Are you sure?" was worse. I began to gain more weight and went to sleep crying every night. The whispers behind closed doors that I was imprudent and lacked a sifu to control or watch over me, that I was nothing but trouble lurking in the distance, made their way to me—especially when I didn't want to hear it. Especially when I was already feeling lost and inane myself. Especially when I already considered multiple times if death would have been easier than to go through another year of torture, another year of humiliation and demonizing.

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I lost sleep, I lost confidence, and I lost loved ones.

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Then one evening, as I was preparing for bed, a dark figure appeared. It was the Soul again—tired, hungry, out of breath. They appeared unkempt, and exhaustion hung over them. The effects of the pandemic forced their funeral procession to be delayed by months. They were having difficulty sustaining their time in limbo, and every wish they wished, every plea they plead, seemed to lead them back to me.

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"Please," the Soul beseeched me. "Could you try one last time?"

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My face burned red, and my knuckles whitened in a tight grip. Their presence angered me.

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Withholding compassion, I shouted from the top of my lungs. I screamed. I cursed. I swore at them.

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"STOP ASKING ME FOR HELP!" I shouted. "STOP ASKING ME! I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU! I DON'T CARE ABOUT WHAT'S GOING ON! I DON'T CARE THAT YOU'RE SUFFERING!!!"

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Before I knew it, I broke down in tears, crying horribly. Between sobs, I told them no one believed me. No one cared about what I knew or what I saw. No one dared to hear me.

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The tears came fast and ugly, blurring my vision until the Soul in front of me became nothing but a dark smear. My chest heaved with each breath, these ragged, gasping sounds that didn't even seem like they belonged to me. I pressed my palms against my face, fingers digging into my temples, trying to hold something in—but it was too late. Everything was spilling out.

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My legs gave way, and I sank onto my bed. The sobs tore through me in waves, each one leaving me more hollowed out than the last. My throat burned raw from the screaming, and now I was trying to calm down to explain myself. Explain why I couldn't help.

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"I tried," I choked out between shuddering breaths. "I tried to tell them and they looked at me like I was—" The words broke apart. I wrapped my arms around myself, rocking slightly, the way you do when there's no one else to hold you.

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The Soul just stood there. Watching. And somehow that made it worse—being witnessed in this, being seen at my most broken by the very one I could not help. I felt deep shame. My guilt was heavy. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to crawl out of my own skin. I wanted someone, anyone, to finally say I believe you and mean it.

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But all I had was this: the ache in my chest, and the terrible silence between sobs where I could hear exactly how alone I was.

 

So now I was the one begging—begging them to please go away.

 

They looked at me, shocked and paralyzed that I shouted so venomously and vehemently. I could tell that this tired Soul pitied me. They already tried the other family members—through dreams, visions, thoughts, synchronicities, numbers. But no one understood them. No one acknowledged them. No one heard them—not like I did.

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And before I knew it, I could sense a tear rolling down their face, and they began to quietly weep.

 

I never forgot that moment:

 

Two beings, human and spirit.

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One, breaking loudly. The other, crumbling quietly. No words for the indescribable. No words for how hurt, how dismissed, how painfully unloved we both felt. The dismissal of our feelings, the abandonment of our experience, and the excruciating pain of feeling lost and unloved broke us. Both of us.

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That's when my sadness transmuted into resentment, my pain into revenge, and I swore to myself—

 

that I would learn how to heal the world, so no Soul—nor being—regardless of which plane of existence or dimension, parallel universe, earth, or timeline they existed on—would ever experience the kind of pain we [both] felt ever again.

 

"That moment," Creator said, "was the moment you decided to go on this journey."

 

Tears streamed down my face. I didn't realize that after all these years, a part of me was still motivated by that moment—witnessing my human self and a Soul sharing the same pain.

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This whole time, I had led myself to believe I was motivated by the infidelity. I now understand that I had masked my reasoning with a softer narrative—one that was tangible, understandable to the naked eye. I shifted the motivation [of healing] to infidelity because it was what eyes could see and minds could believe.

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But today, Creator shone a light on that mask and was asking me to take the last pieces of it off. They were asking me to look deeply within and reflect with compassion for that younger me, one who was just learning what it meant to find courage for the first time.

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Wiping away my tears, I responded, "But I've already forgiven everyone involved." Since that time, my relationships with family have blossomed and bloomed. Misunderstandings were healed through honest conversations. Grief transformed into compassion, and compassion transmuted into love. I came a long way in understanding that they, too, were in pain. And no one can understand, no one can hear, when they're in grief.

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"I've already forgiven all of them and my younger self. May I ask what is still left?"

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"As you have forgiven," Creator asked, "are you also ready to let go of the resentment itself—the resentment that served as your motivation? That you no longer need resentment in your heart to motivate you to heal the world, the earth, the sun, the skies, and the spirits? And to replace that resentment with the knowing of what it feels like to wake up every day motivated by unconditional love, compassion, and grace?"

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It was an easy yes.

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I smiled as I wiped my tears. "I am ready to let that go. I have been for a very long time." I could feel myself getting lighter as I witnessed my own healing—the last of what remained leaving my body, mind, Soul, and spirit.

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Something I often said when I first started healing others was that I never want anyone to feel the way I did—dismissed, overlooked, and unloved. I said it often and said it proudly. So many admired me for my strength and valor, calling it powerful when I voiced that pain.

 

But now I understand that those words came from a place of hurt, and at one point, that pain fueled me. It initially motivated me to change, to heal myself, so I could heal others. But that belief was no longer my story; no longer my narrative. It no longer served me.

 

And so I released it.

 

CRYSTAL KAYEEB ZEB