Finding LuLu

The story that changed my life, and still is…

On May 12, 2008, my father died. I was 20 years old.

The world lost one of the best fathers, and with him, I lost myself. I lost LuLu, his girl.

I lost the girl who never needed approval from any man. The girl who never doubted herself. A force to be reckoned with. Part of my heart went missing — and I desperately sought to fill that space with anyone or anything I could find. But nothing could ever fill me, and so I remained lost; lost to myself and to my place in the world.

For years I wandered in that emptiness, searching for pieces of myself in places I never belonged. I tried to be someone else, tried to be what others expected of me, and tried anything to ease that ache inside my soul that kept whispering, “He left me.”

My father was huge. Not just big in my life, but physically huge. He was nearly seven feet tall with massive hands that looked like they could hold the whole world inside them. And having a phantom limb that size made me feel invisible. The more I searched to fill the void, the further I drifted from the person my father believed I could be: The person I was, so effortlessly, when he stood beside me.

Slowly, I began the journey back home to myself and to the girl who once stood tall in the shadow of her father’s love. It wasn’t easy. Every step felt like clawing pieces of myself back that had been ripped away from me. There was a permanent scowl on my face most days. Yet, somehow I had to learn how to stand on my own, without the safety of those giant, comforting hands that always held me steady.

The Journey

The ten years following my father’s death were filled with every single emotion. And many second and third helpings of the most painful ones.

I drank until I blacked out in year one. I abused sleeping pills because they took the pain away. I took antidepressants for over three years, tried different kinds of anti-anxiety meds for my panic attacks, and went on and off birth control in an attempt to regulate my hormones. I’d look in the mirror and see a dried up, hollow shell staring back at me, wishing me to look away from her once again.

I tried starving myself, imagining that skinny girls didn’t have any problems. I binged, I purged, and then hated myself. In truth, I have hated myself and my body more times than I care to admit. I tried blaming everyone else for my struggles; I was selfish and angry and frustrated and pissed off at God for years. I also spent years being numb, nauseous, confused, sick, trapped, afraid, and broken. I asked, “Why me? Why him?” And: “What did I do to deserve this?”

On top of that, I harshly judged myself. For ALL OF IT. There was a soul-withering voice inside me critiquing every thought, word, and action I was taking, holding me to some version of better that was always too far off in the distance to achieve. Judgment is always the best icing on a shit cake.

And I’ll tell you, one day I just decided that enough was enough. The next day I agreed. And the next, and the next. I was so sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. I knew there had to be more to life than this.

The Choice

I decided to stop sitting in my own darkness. I decided to stop waiting for the answers to find me. I decided life is worth living and loving.

I remembered that between all of the pain and darkness, there were moments where I was happy. I laughed the same days that I cried, and while I may not have walked outside everyday, I looked out the window and dreamed with a hopeful heart of a life that was different.

I also remembered that life is short. My dad’s death taught me that. Life is short, and precious. His death became my why. My point of no return. My, “I must get happy now, today, and everyday, because what else is there?” My father’s death became my reason to live.

To get off all the drugs.

To get my body out of pain.

To get off the train to Negative Town.

To get out of crappy, emotionally abusive relationships.

To never, ever settle.

To find purpose. To find meaning.

To find LuLu.

One ordinary day that I cannot even remember, I chose myself. I followed my heart. I chose to live the life I was given. I decided what it was I actually wanted, and then I started creating it.

I decided to fight for LuLu; to fight for her (and sometimes with her) and to love her, every day, as he did.

Coming Home

This decision changed the course of my life.

It still breaks my heart that the best father a girl could ask for had to die in order for me to find myself. But I found her. I found LuLu all over again, and with her, I can do anything.

When I breathe now, I really breathe.

When I laugh now, I REALLY laugh.

When I sing, I dig deep into my heart and set her free like an uncaged bird. My heart is free to sing her song again and I can love more than ever before. When I dance, I feel a union. I can feel my own heartbeat in sync with my hips and the air around me.

I decided that my pain didn’t have to be the end of my story. It could be my catalyst.

Today, I choose life. I choose to believe and see the best in people. I choose to believe that everything happens for a reason, and that sometimes things just happen — and I get to decide who and what I want to be in the face of both.

I choose to believe that every rejection is God’s protection. I choose to take full responsibility for my thoughts, words, and actions. I choose to take action towards my dreams and learn through every experience, big and small.

I choose to believe that life is full of choices: To sink, to swim, to survive, or to thrive, but the choice is, and always was, mine.

And I hope you choose love.

With love,

LuLu

p.s… Healing is an Unfinished Process

Healing is like learning; there are infinite things to discover, different aspects to explore, and new insights to open yourself to. To me, the healing process is an ongoing one. It’s cyclical. So, just because I'm writing a book series on healing doesn't mean I'm done healing. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.

There are always new layers to meet, old stories to shed, and deeper truths waiting to be revealed.

Sacred Alchemy wasn’t written from a place of completion, but from within the sacred mess of becoming. Writing it has been an act of deep listening, patience, and devotion. It’s my way of sharing what I’ve uncovered, and a loving reminder that healing doesn’t have to be perfect or linear.

If your heart is whispering that there’s more to uncover within yourself… this book is a companion for the path.

Receive your copy of Sacred Alchemy and begin (or re-begin) your own unfolding.