Never Thought I’d Leave the ICU.

For most of my adult life, I was a doctor. An anesthesiologist. An ICU specialist. I was good at what I did. I thrived in the intensity, the urgency, the responsibility of holding lives in my hands.

But somewhere between the ventilators, the code blues, and the long nights, a quiet question began to whisper inside me:
“Is this all there is to healing?”

I saw people survive, but not always live.

I saw pain that medicine couldn’t explain.

I saw bodies that were patched up but not at peace.

And I saw myself—exhausted, accomplished, but strangely disconnected from something I couldn’t yet name.

That question never went away. It grew louder. And eventually, I listened.

It was extremely uncomfortable for me. For the first time I was focusing on myself. What I wanted. What I knew was true.

I stopped limiting myself to textbooks and journals.

I started asking my patient what they knew about themselves, their bodies, and their path to recovery.

I stepped into a world that was unfamiliar and, honestly, uncomfortable at first.

It took a lot of rewiring of my own self and also my believes.

I did not know how to prioritise myself.

I did not know how to live without the adrenaline rush and the constant demands of my profession, that I was so willing to meet.

I started to turn towards looking at things energetically. Asking questions like what is actually true here.

I started asking questions about consciousness. Both at an universal and at the individual level.

I found Access Consciousness. It said that Consciousness included everything and judged nothing.

I never thought that was possible. To not judge and be judged.

I started listening not just with a stethoscope, but with presence. Engaging my whole being and body. Engaging with another, in totatlity.

This didn’t look like medicine. And it felt like healing.

Now, I work with people in a completely different way.

I don’t fix. I don’t rescue. I don’t diagnose.

I hold space. I ask questions. I witness their bodies speaking what words often can’t.

The transition wasn’t easy.

I grieved the identity I had built. I lost friends, associations. And I learnt to let go with gratitude.

With the knowing that I did not need identity anymore.

I faced skepticism, both outside and within.

But I also found freedom. Joy. Truth.

This isn’t the path I thought I’d take.

But it’s the one that finally feels like mine.