The Dark Night of the Soul: Ownership, Awakening, and the Real Education of the Heart

Dear Friends,

Every week in the “Created in the Image of God” series, we encounter new witnesses to the mysterious curriculum of the spirit—a process that so often leads us through unexpected valleys before we ever glimpse the peaks.

This week, in conversation with Pamela Evischi, I found myself face-to-face again with one of the most powerful and under-discussed subjects in spiritual and personal growth: the dark night of the soul.

Pamela’s journey—from growing up in a loving Midwestern family, through high achievement and faithfulness, to an eventual collapse and profound healing—what she describes as “dropping you low so I can raise you up”—mirrors the arc that so many honest truth-seekers walk. If you’ve ever felt that the bottom fell out from under your life despite “doing everything right,” her experience may sound achingly familiar.

When the Collapse Comes: The Soul’s Reckoning

In her thirties, Pamela described herself as a “people-pleaser, rule follower,” someone who “tried to be good or else God’s going to—you’re going to go to hell... I treated people kind. And this is... what I get?” But the familiar formulas stopped working. Her marriage faltered, depression and frustration mounted, and she found herself at two in the morning on a porch, “crying out.” Here, the dark night began.

“That was the beginning of what I call the dark night of my soul where now I kind of understand where my soul was like, okay, you cannot continue living in this vein anymore because it’s damaging you… those ways served you as a child, but now we’re going to do some healing work on you and... retach you.”

Many of us have been there. Everything we inherited and performed—obedience, positivity, religious activity—hits a wall. And in that valley, the scripts we’ve used to keep pain and darkness at bay lose their power.

What distinguishes those who find new life from those who sink deeper is not talent, nor even religious intensity, but the capacity to own the journey for oneself. This is the unsparing message of Pamela’s story—echoed, incidentally, in my own. When all the excuses and explanations run dry, when the “blame game” is finally exhausted, a riverbed appears: the beginning of authentic relationship—with others, with God, and most crucially, with one’s own wounded, luminous soul.

Beyond Blame: Stepping into Responsibility and Healing

Pamela’s turning point came with the voice of an unexpected mentor—a neighbor inviting her to talk, and telling her of “a whole team... just waiting to help me, but I have to ask.” This shift—from seeing others as obstacle or cause, to seeing herself as the one invited to change—was decisive.

“I’m a big... proponent of self-responsibility and taking personal responsibility for your life, for the condition of your soul, because in the end that’s what God asks us to do... not playing the blame game.”

Yes, we can (and must) recognize what was missing, misguided, or damaging in our upbringing, relationships, or community. But as Pamela put it, “even in the awakening moments where I’m realizing that they, you know, inadvertently put stuff on me as a kid, I still honor them because they had the same thing happen to them.” Even as we soberly see what went wrong, we refuse to scapegoat. Instead, we step into the work—sometimes wrenching, always humbling—of healing ourselves as the only soul we were assigned to fix.

The Curriculum of Descent: Why the Low Places Matter

If there is a curriculum in the valleys, it is this: in being brought low, we are positioned to truly encounter both God and ourselves—not merely as theories, but as living realities. “As I grew older,” Pamela recalls, “I started doing, you know—no parent’s perfect and they passed along a lot of what I call generational bondage from their family heritage... and so I picked up a lot of those because I was daddy’s little girl and his angel.”

This is not bitterness. It is radical truth-telling, paired with an even deeper honoring of father and mother—and, by extension, of ourselves. And when the process begins in earnest, the fruit is contagious:

“Once one person takes responsibility for their healing, they give people around them permission to heal... I feel like I’ve put like a stop to some of the generational patterns that were passed down.”

Healing as the Work of God—Not the Job of Others

At the close of our conversation, Pamela offered a profound challenge to the modern urge to blame, fix, or “save” others (including our children). “What right do you have to play God?” she recounted hearing in prayer, “You’re interfering with what I’m doing in their life.” The true work, she discovered, is to love—while leaving the work of the soul to the Author of souls.

This is an education that breaks the cycle. As Pamela put it: “If everybody would take personal responsibility to save their soul, just imagine the ripple effect that would have on the world.”

Three Quick Takeaways from the Rest of Pamela’s Story (and Ours)

1. Generational Healing is Possible (But Someone Must Go First)

Pamela introduces “generational bondage”—unhealthy beliefs, expectations, or wounds passed on, often unconsciously. “Even the best parents,” she observed, can hand these down, but what matters is whether we will do the work to break the cycle.

Key lesson: By taking responsibility for our own healing, we do not dishonor our parents or uproot tradition; we redeem it for those who come after us.

2. Beyond Rule-Keeping: Moving from Performance to Encounter

Pamela’s awakening was not about discarding all she’d been taught, but about moving from anxious performance (“trying to be good”) to actual encounter with a loving, healing God. She realized, “I don’t have to try anymore. I just be it.”

Key lesson: Faith communities and families best serve the next generation not by doubling down on rules alone, but by helping people move from compliance to connection, performance to authenticity, and anxious striving to the grace of “being.”

3. Courage to Heal Means Resisting the Blame Game and the Savior Complex

Pamela and I both noted that today’s culture tempts us—when hurt—to view ourselves only as victims, to cut ourselves off from those who have wounded us, or to believe we can “save” others. Both self-pity and the rescuer complex are traps.

Key lesson: True soul healing requires leaving behind blaming, victimhood, and the fantasy of saving others. It means showing up, loving well, holding boundaries, and letting the soul’s real Teacher do the hardest parts of the work.

The Dark Night as a Doorway

What does all this mean for us—parents, partners, teachers, friends, pilgrims on the journey? It means we must reframe those periods of anguish, collapse, or “running out of answers” not as shameful defeats, but as the spiritual classroom where real growth gets underway. “God... gently will heal your soul,” Pamela testified. But the invitation is to “step into the fire with God because I wanted to go deeper.”

The education of the soul—just like that of the mind or body—is never an entirely private project. The moment anyone does “the work,” the permission is given anew for others to awaken, forgive, and transform. If you have already walked through the night, you are living proof. If you are there now: take heart! The darkness is not the end; it is the place where new names and new beginnings are authored by One who knows you best.

About The Guest

Pamela Evischi is the author of Courage to Heal, a soul healing coach, Christian spiritual mentor, and the founder of Spiritual Springboard. Find more at spiritualspringboard.com or follow @spiritualspringboard on Instagram and Facebook.

Tonight’s Episode: Set The Captives Free

Stay tuned for Tom Snow’s episode—a journey through broken systems, hidden power structures, and the quiet ways religion can keep us bound without us realizing it.