I want to talk about freedom.
For years it was a man. Or many different men. The one place I could find relief. A moment of not thinking. My face in his arm pit. Love was the only place I felt God. With a man was the only place I felt not like me. I felt free.
Then it was food. I’d think all day about what I was going to make for dinner. What kind of tofu I’d buy at Whole Foods. Scroll through recipes at work. Thinking: even if I never have any money, at least I have mashed potatoes. When I got home I wouldn’t even shower or take off my shoes before I’d unbutton the tops of my pants, put on Grey’s Anatomy, and gorge.
Then. Spending. Never buying anything. One day buying everything. On my credit card. I couldn’t look at my bank account. Knowing a bill was due caused me to spend more. Swiping felt like power. Even if there was nothing to swipe from. I’d finally check my statement, go to Target just to relieve anxiety. I’d get six different candles, steal a kombucha by drinking it while I shopped, put stuff in my cart that I didn’t need and take it out at the last second because I felt guilty. I’d walk—slow—through the aisles and think: when I can buy whatever I want here, that is what freedom will feel like.
Then it was travel. Never staying put. Each place was sure to offer something the last didn’t. Bored? Just move. All those years abroad I learned this: I have never felt more trapped than when I didn’t know where I wanted to make a home. When you can go anywhere, and don’t want to. That’s entire feeling of its own.
Then work. I don’t even have to explain this. But there were months—many months— where I did not sleep.
Then it was God. If I could go deeper. Talk to the stars more often. Eat cleaner to hear the whispers louder. Meditation. Yoga. Psychedelics. Shamans. Soul Retrievals. Acupuncture. Massage. Jade Eggs. Reiki. Therapists. Coaches. If I could heal more and more and more then maybe my life wouldn’t feel like walking in shoes four sizes too small.
Then it was nothing. A spiritual hiatus. A big Eff You to the world. I was mad. I tried everything. I was still trapped. I used the right words and purified my thoughts. I said I was sorry. I took my inner child running through the wild flowers. I traveled through space to meet my intention. I prayed every damn night and wrote down what I was grateful for.
And some mornings I felt lighter. But most nights I’d end right back where I started: Afraid. Broke. Lost. Hopeless. Behind Bars I Couldn’t See.
So then it was no more trying.
One night I almost blew up my room by burning a letter I wrote to the man I loved and I decided I was done.
I was done proving that I was ready for God to show up.
Done trying to get it right for the sole purpose that I wanted the Universe to believe that I was worthy of everything I had ever wanted.
My hands black. My heart aching. Spiritually perfect left me spiritually drained. I decided right then and there that a lot of what I was told was complete bullshit. And that if God was real, She sure as hell didn’t need me to tap every acupuncture point on my body to prove to her that I deserved her love. That I deserved the freedom I knew was mine to have. The money that was mine to make.
That night I knew: I wasn’t going to be, or do, anything other than what my soul wanted.
No more sales funnels. No more webinars. No more meditation when I’d rather be sleeping. No more total raw vegan. No more guilt. No more shame if I didn’t journal that day. No more spending when I don’t have it. For a program promising what it can’t give me. No more eating when I’m not hungry. No more jobs I hate. No more being broke.
I wrote in my journal: “I am done. I am scared. But I am done.”
I wish I could say I woke up the next morning and my entire life changed.
I woke up feeling relatively the same: alone. But it was the first time in a long time that I wasn’t afraid.
You could have taken everything away from me and I would have been ok.
I didn’t know it at the time, but that was the most free I had ever felt.
This was my initiation.
The moment where my work really began.
My absolute trappedness was the foundation from where I was about to truly know what It was like to feel free.
When you aren’t afraid of losing anything is when you’re capable of everything.
I wish, right then, there was someone to tell me this:
If you are at bottom. Zero. Absolute nothing. Your work, what you’re truly meant to do in this world, it is coming next.
I wish this was a gentler process. The initiation. And maybe it will be as time goes on. But it seems that those who feel the most free were also those who have, at one point, felt the most trapped. The ones doing the biggest work, were also the ones who, at one point, thought there was no point at all.
I wanted to write you