There Is Nothing to Clean

She described being capable and effective in helping other people, while struggling to extend the same care toward herself. A history of disordered eating had become painful again during a difficult period in her personal life. What troubled her included a sense of contamination and the self-judgment surrounding it.

I listened to the distinction she made between her everyday capacity and those moments of distress. The contempt she felt then could seem to take up all the space in her relationship with herself.

When we explored what she wanted, one word was clear: peace.

She had glimpsed a lighter relationship with herself through meditation. She wanted to approach that possibility more closely. For this session, she chose to explore earlier experiences within her own life.

During the age regression, a scene involving her younger self and an older family figure arose. She described feeling that her bodily boundaries were being violated. Another figure appeared in the scene, associated with the pain of not being protected.

We worked with what she was experiencing: anger, sadness, disappointment, and the need for safety.

After the session, she was explicit that she had no conscious recollection of these scenes. That uncertainty belongs within the story. The feelings she experienced were real to her in the moment; the scenes were not thereby established as historical events.

My attention was on accompanying her emotional experience and helping her articulate what she needed.

I invited her to express a boundary within the scene. She said that she did not want the figure to come near her again.

We gave room to the anger and sadness. Within this inner work, the younger self could object, ask for protection, and say what had felt unsayable.

She reported relief.

The question of care widened. What did she need from the adults around her? What did she wish they could understand? We explored those needs through imagined dialogues and changes of perspective.

These exchanges belonged to the session. They offered a way to express feelings and imagine responses; they were not testimony from the people represented.

One of her clearest statements reached beyond any single scene: “Yo de pequeña era mayor.”

When I was little, I was already grown up.

She described having to care for others and feeling that she had never truly been allowed to be small. Beneath the strength was a wish to receive care herself.

We stayed with that longing. There was sadness in recognizing what she had needed. There was also room to ask what care might look like now.

For me, this became an important thread of the session: the adult who could do so much for others meeting the child who wanted someone to look after her.

Later, I invited her adult self into contact with the younger self she had encountered.

The language became gentler. She spoke of a beautiful body, a beautiful mind, and a beautiful heart. She told the child that she was not to blame.

Then came the words: “No hay nada que limpiar.”

There is nothing to clean.

Earlier, she had described feeling dirty. Now, within this conversation with herself, she was offering dignity and care where harsh judgment had been.

I do not take that moment as proof of a cause for her symptoms or a cure. Its significance lies in the change she could express and feel during the session: a different way of meeting herself.

The child could be addressed with tenderness. The body could be spoken to with respect.

As our work continued, she spoke about allowing herself to be small again.

There was also room for expression and vulnerability. She could consider saying no to what she did not want, and acknowledging what she needed without having to prove she could manage everything.

Compassion emerged in her reflections toward herself and toward family figures. I held that alongside the importance of boundaries. No one needs to excuse harm or forgive another person in order to deserve care.

What mattered here was her own developing relationship with the experience: the possibility of holding difficult feelings without turning them into a judgment against her worth.

During the session, she reported a striking change: “Ya no siento pena. Ahora siento suavidad.”

I no longer feel sadness. Now I feel softness.

After returning to ordinary awareness, she described the sensation through her body, as though the hardness inside her had been taken away.

I listened to her immediate relief without turning it into a prediction about the future. One session can contain a deeply meaningful experience; what follows needs time and attention.

The scene that stayed with me was the adult speaking tenderly to the child. She had arrived with a painful relationship to herself. During our work, she found words that could offer care.

As we closed, I invited her to rest, write or draw if she wished, and stay in contact about what unfolded.

Integration could include noticing self-judgment as it appeared, practicing a boundary, receiving support, and returning gently to the words she had offered her younger self.

Because disordered eating was part of what she brought, this exploration belongs alongside appropriate specialist care, rather than replacing it.

We had no follow-up outcome to report at that point. What she described was the relief and softness she felt immediately after the session.

I was left with a simple possibility: that someone who had learned to be strong might also begin to experience herself as worthy of protection.

She had found words for that protection.

There is nothing to clean.

There is someone here to care for.