Discovering Myself Through Chakras
By Carol Mack - Ruck
By Carol Mack - Ruck
If I'm honest, I didn't go searching for Chakras. They found me.
There was a time in my life when I felt completely exhausted. Not the kind of tiredness that a good night's sleep fixes, but a deep, bone-level weariness. I felt out of sorts and couldn't quite put my finger on why. From the outside, everything looked fine. I was doing all the things. Being all the things. And yet, inside, something felt off.
Then came this quiet nudge — a feeling that I needed to go on a retreat. I didn't really know what a retreat was, or what it would give me. I didn't fully understand what I was looking for, or what I might find there. I just knew I had to go. I recognised that it was my intuition guiding me, even before I fully understood its wisdom.
When I arrived, I joined every class, listened deeply, and allowed myself — perhaps for the first time — to really pay attention. What I discovered was confronting and comforting all at once. I wasn't just physically tired. I was energetically depleted. My chakras — my internal energy centres — were drained.
I had been wearing so many hats: wife, mother, daughter, facilitator, supporter, constant giver in my work and in my family and friends. I gave so much of myself so freely. I believed that was what it meant to live well. To love well. To be a good person.
What I didn't realise — and this was the part that truly shook me — was that in giving to everyone else, I had slowly forgotten myself. I didn't even know that was something a person could do.
That retreat didn't just introduce me to chakras. It introduced me back to me. It showed me that tending to my own energy wasn't selfish — it was essential. That my wellbeing mattered too.
So when I first heard the word chakra, I'll be honest — I wasn't entirely sure what it meant. I had perhaps heard it mentioned in passing before, but I had never paid attention. It wasn't something I thought applied to me or my life.
But as I began to learn, something clicked.
Chakras are often described as energy centres within the body. The word itself comes from Sanskrit, meaning 'wheel'. There are seven main chakras running from the base of the spine to the crown of the head, and each one relates to different aspects of our physical, emotional, and spiritual wellbeing.
At the retreat, I began to see my life reflected in them.
The Root Chakra, at the base of the spine, is about safety and security. On the surface, my life looked stable. But inside, I often felt unsettled — constantly bracing myself, always 'on', always holding everything together.
The Sacral Chakra is connected to joy, creativity, and emotional flow. Somewhere along the way, I had become efficient instead of joyful. Responsible instead of creative. I was managing life rather than feeling it.
The Solar Plexus Chakra, our centre of personal power, revealed another truth. I appeared capable, organised, and strong. But beneath it all, I was exhausted. I didn't yet understand that true personal power includes knowing when to pause.
The Heart Chakra reminded me that love without self-care drains rather than nourishes. I had always given fully, but I had forgotten that an open heart must include compassion for yourself.
The Throat Chakra showed me how often I spoke for others but rarely voiced my own needs. I had become so used to being the strong one that I didn't know how to ask for support.
The Third Eye Chakra — our centre of intuition — makes me smile now. That quiet nudge to attend the retreat? That was it. I recognised it as my intuition guiding me, even before I fully understood its wisdom.
And finally, the Crown Chakra, our connection to something greater. For me, this wasn't about grand spiritual experiences. It was about remembering that I am more than the roles I play. That my worth isn't measured by how much I give.
Understanding the chakras didn't suddenly make life perfect. But it gave me awareness. And awareness is powerful. It allowed me to stop labelling myself as 'too tired', 'too emotional', or 'not coping well enough', and instead ask — what part of me needs attention?
That question changed everything.