MELTEM ARIKAN

  Türkçe'si aşağıda👇 Carl Jung said: “Wounded healers bring deeper empathy, patience, and acceptance to their clients.” I didn’t just learn this, I lived it. Through collapse. Rebirth. Silent cries. I met trauma not in theory, but in raw, unrelenting life. And I learned: Transformation doesn’t come from knowledge. It comes from being seen. From connection. From surrender. From deep listening to the self. There’s no single method. No fixed map. We are all different, and we all need different paths back to ourselves. No one else can walk your road. You are not here to fix or carry others either. Healing isn’t about handing over your power, It’s about standing fully in yourself, without waiting to be saved. Don’t give your will to anyone.  Because no one can rescue you. No one holds the key to your becoming. And the moment you stop outsourcing your truth is the moment your absolute path begins. I’ve learned this the hardest way. My life has been cracked open and rebuilt...

Türkçesi Aşağıda 👇 Nerve Craft is grounded in scientific foundations such as neuroplasticity, nervous system regulation, somatic awareness, and body-based therapy. It is also a multilayered process of discovery shaped by a deep connection with nature, creative intuition, and respect for one’s unique rhythm. While restructuring the nervous system, it listens to the wisdom of the body and the earth. With compassion and awareness, it opens the door to a sustainable process of inner exploration. It aims to help participants meet their essence — rooted and aligned with their own rhythm. Nerve Craft goes beyond talking; it invites self-exploration through the body, nature, music, sound, and drawing. The process is shaped with care, responding to each participant’s sensitivity to body, nervous system, senses, and emotions. Depending on individual needs, a wide range of methods are integrated — including Neurographica®, NeuroChange Method®, Jungian shadow work, mindfulness, somatic therapy, m...

  Türkçesi Aşagıda👇 I’ve always felt different. Too much. Too intense. Too easily overwhelmed. Knows too much but believes too easily. My existence has always been a chain of contradictions. I was born into chaos and silence in Turkey. At five, a car crash shattered my family. My mother never came home. Grief arrived early, and never really left.  It learned to live in me, quietly. I wrote to make the world bearable and to wrap words around the ache, to bring order to the noise. But I still didn’t belong. They called me sharp-tongued, dangerous, unruly. One of my books was banned. I was judged, criticised, and reduced. So I masked. I doubted myself. I learned to disappear while appearing strong. No matter how much I created, something kept pressing in, like I was made of static in a world that only accepts silence and smoothness. In 2013, my absurdist play Mi Minor,  a mirror held up to imagined power, became the target of a hate campaign. They said I inspired ...