A trying and transformative year, desolate of inspiration and laughter. Thank you, Uni.

Dear Uni, its been a while. A really long time, in fact probably over a year. So, I’m back and this has been one of the most trying and transformative years of my life. And for that I say, thank you.

It took me exactly one year to feel like myself again, a year desolate of inspiration and absent of laughter. Honestly, if you know me personally, you understand how hard it is for me to not laugh, its my top five favorite things to do. I can’t remember another period in my life in which I was not laughing, full force, high pitch, probably drooling and unable to breathe regularly (suuuper cute obviously).

There were some serious experiences I digested this past year, three to be exact. Like a full karmic cycle coming to an end. A slow painful death, if you will. Really fucking slow. Really fucking painful. These experiences are so real and so intense they deserve their own sentences. I spoke my truth about being raped. I was dumped. I saw my father for the first time in seven years.

HOLY SHIT, it was a lot for one year Uni and I didn’t think I would make it. It felt hard to exist. Not in a suicidal way, but in a way in which the pain in my heart my was so intense, my whole being was numb. Everything I did felt fake and forced, especially laughing. I was constantly on the verge of tears – because I’m a Cancer sun sign and a Pisces moon sign I literally can’t help it I am MFing emotional.

It started with a breakup last May. It was like reliving the childhood experience of being abandoned by my father all over again – so painfully obviously in sync with the Universe’s plan. I went away for a weekend and came back to where we lived to find nothing. He was gone. All his clothes, shoes, and any other hint of existence of him in my life had vanished. He was my best friend, he was my person. I never told him – out of fear of rejection, how ironic; but I loved him so much more than I could communicate. There was no doubt in my mind he one of my soulmates, I connected with him so instantly, so effortlessly. We shared some of the same life stories, so it simply made sense. He was like looking in a mirror. Being in his earthy Virgo presence, I understood the gaggy cliché of feeling at “home”, as he felt safe and oh so good. He had my heart on a plate. But unbeknownst to me, we were not on the same page. Not even the same book. When I came back that weekend, I found my heart on a plate- totally MFing rejected. He never broke up with me, his texts and communication slowly stopped coming until he finally never answered my question, “do you want to break up?” Which was an answer in it of itself. The air around me felt suffocatingly saturated in rejection. Fuck, that hurt. Fuck, my life plans had been bombed, the future we envisioned was in flames and I was staring awe stricken at this perfectly orchestrated disaster wondering how the fuck we went from best friends to nothing at all.

Sorry – it’s not any less depressing for a few more paragraphs people stay with me.

I had remembered I was raped a while ago. It was 2016, Brock Turner was on trial and practically got away with brutally raping an unconsciously drunk woman. After having discussed this in class, I realized on my drive home, I too was that woman. (I also created a few more scenarios for myself to experience in life along the same lines that were equally mortifying and terrifying as well, but story for a different day.) But when I finally spoke the words out loud, telling someone for the first time, I had a release. A Kundalini spiritual awakening kind of release. I was hysterically crying on my way to work the next day, my hands started to tingle and my mouth and face were doing the same. I could barely catch my breath between sobs. This was real, raw pain and suffering I had stored for almost a decade in my cells. They were ready to be freed from it. Without consciously knowing it at the time, so was I.

Seeing my dad did not feel like a significant part of this story, as I felt like my heart had been healed from the wounds for a while now – HAHA. Good try, Lynds, good try. Do you ever recover from those childhood wounds? I think mostly, but there are always going to be more layers to unravel that manifest in completely different areas of your life, seemingly having nothing to do with the core unhealed wound. My dad was funny though, that was his thing. Funny and spontaneous and absolutely where I developed my sense of humor and my genuine love to laugh. I hadn’t seen him since he had been through what I perceived to probably be his rock bottom. It was hard for everyone involved. Honestly, seeing my dad was not as emotionally turmoil-y as I thought it would be. I had done a lot of work around this subject, rewriting the stories of not feeling like enough and releasing a crippling fear of failure. It was slightly surprising in fact, especially after having been through a traumatic breakup, I was able to keep my heart totally open, feeling no need to shield my gaping heart wounds with defensiveness or anger.

Seeing my dad felt more like a circle of completion. Nothing more, nothing less. I cried a little because I could see and feel the pain he still suffered from. I see him through lens of compassion and empathy these days. Acknowledging the experiences he lived through that could have beat any person’s heart into a pulp. I see how the beginning of my story for growth and awakening, begun with him about seven years earlier. Ironically, at the exact time I found yoga. (Mhm, the Universe is that fucking cool people.)

On top of a full year of going through the most real sense of emotional suffering I have ever experienced, I was alone. I lived by myself in my moms house. And this is where my year of healing benefited the most. I had to sit with the emotions of feeling alone, as well as physically being alone. There is a difference. Feeling alone is being out with your people who are happy and social and you are faking it. You’re not smiling because you’re happy, you’re smiling because if you don’t they’ll ask you what is wrong and then you’ll have to explain to them, again, that you’re sad. If you do that, you’re afraid of their reaction. They will say something nice and genuine, but in their eyes you will see, “really Lynds, still? Its been like ten months since your breakup, get your shit together girl.” Even though the scenario is a projection of your keen awareness of rejection, and even though you consciously know this, it is still not worth the risk.

Being alone does not have to feel alone.

The Universe is so mind-blowingly perfect. With our limitations of the human mind, we could never orchestrate life lessons and scenarios like our higher selves (or the universe, as they are the same) can. And that is our whole point of being humans, to open our consciousness a little more than we humanly thought possible. We have everything mapped out on a soul level and we come here with a plan for growth and freedom from suffering in human form. Its like a fun, sick game. The feeling of love and liberation is worth the dark, heavy shit, especially as you recognize and witness others transform out of it as well. Recognizing the suffering they have endured is a catalyst for the highest versions of themselves. For the best life they could imagine. All we have to do is lean into it. Be in it.

And remember, you are a catalyst for other other people. You standing in your power, truth and honestly permits others to more easily do the same.

The Universe set me up to explore and cry and love and hate and appreciate being alone so I could lean into my suffering and pain. It was not going to let me waste this profound opportunity for growth on cheap sex, beer or surface level drama. My higher self so obviously set me up with the opportunity to transform. A year later, holy fucking shit it took a whole year of my life to experience a roller coaster of emotions, to transform myself into the truest, realest version. (Thus far, there is always room for more.) To go deeper into my patterns of thought, limiting beliefs and habits of distractions. To move off of the path of wasting an entire lifetime running from my goals, wishes and opportunities out of fear. Of living how I think other people would like to see me live. I have never been so humbled and profoundly transformed as I have been this past year. Gawwwd damn, that shit was not easy and the process ain’t pretty. But on the other side of the moment I saw my life on fire, I found freedom. And that my friends, is what it’s all about.

With love,


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