I had to use my app blocker yesterday. I blocked email, Mailchimp, Instagram and Safari – my “distracting” apps. But I didn’t just block them so that I couldn’t be distracted. I blocked them because I felt ashamed, regretful and embarrassed about the email I sent, “This is the best I’ve got”.
I didn’t want to open myself up to the criticism, or worse, to see that my message hadn’t landed and nobody cared.
My ego got so loud that I started to convince myself that maybe I’m just crazy (that old story!), and that other people don’t feel the way that I feel.
That pressure point of discomfort turned out to be an incredible gift. Because when my ego spoke up that loudly and unhelpfully, I was able to gain perspective again.
I asked myself, objectively, whether I think it’s true that I’m the only woman who is uncomfortable with her life and the expectations placed on her.
I examined every close female relationship I’ve ever had, with friends and relatives.
And I realised that every single close female I’ve ever spoken to has struggled.
They’ve struggled with trauma. They’ve suffered from abuse – molestation, rape or DV. They’ve had to hold their shit together to survive, to raise kids, to eat.
They’ve had to make difficult choices. They’ve hurt people to get through. They’ve SACRIFICED. They’ve abused substances – drugs and alcohol. They’ve developed eating disorders. Personality disorders. They have PTSD. They’ve scrapped and strived and tried and failed and succeeded and prevailed. (Mostly).
And every single one of them has done the absolute best in a system that does not support them. The best they can – with what they know and within the constraints of modern society.
To all the women I’ve hurt, and all those who have hurt me, I’m sorry. Hurt people hurt people. x
Yesterday, my bleed came. Day 25. A shorter cycle – another peri-menopause symptom.
My bleed this month coincides with the New Moon – a period of lowered energy on Earth. It also coincides with the Chinese New Year. The year of the Horse. This doesn’t feel accidental.
Yesterday. Humbled AF.
The discomfort I felt two days ago also doesn’t feel accidental, either.
This morning I spoke with my husband. I’d already journaled. My emotional state was stable and surrendered. My body felt open and connected. My nervous system was regulated. I am quite literally a different person from two days ago.
I said to him that I’m tired of doing the best I can inside of a system that doesn’t support me.
I have taken full personal responsibility for my state. I have had the incredible fortune, time and circumstances to dedicate to a mindfulness journey spanning years now.
I consume no stimulants or mind-altering drugs. I don’t drink. I don’t take coffee.
I have tapered down my screen use and consumption to negligible levels. (With the exception of the “bad” days).
I have cleaned up my diet and control everything that goes into my system, aside from environmental toxins I cannot avoid.
I do breathwork, yoga and meditation daily. I go to the beach mostly daily. I ask for help when I need it. I have rock-solid boundaries. I take magnesium. I eat enough fucking protein.
And you know what else, I feel very capable of relaunching a business and making money to add more joy and ease to my life. Bring on travel again!
But am I satisfied?
Honestly, the answer is no.
I can, and in many ways have, hacked the system we all inherited when we were born. I’m doing better than a lot of people I know. It didn’t come without pain, but I’m on the other side of a huge awakening period.
But that’s not enough for me.
I want to live in a way that feels aligned with my birthright – to feel free and abundant. To have support and community. To be a part of something bigger than myself – something beautiful and connecting. I want the space and time to create. I want nourishment. I want depth. I want to help others and allow myself to be helped. I want to rest. And run. I want to be a dependable person and to depend on others.
Nothing about our current way of life supports these ambitions. Except, perhaps, making lots of money off others so you can have a big piece of land. (But generally speaking, having lots of money mostly makes people want to have more money, because #capitalism)
None of this makes sense to me yet. I’m sharing it as it’s landing for me. However, something that happened to me in 2022 keeps coming to mind, and I simply can’t let it go.
Let me take you back.
In 2022, I fell pregnant with William. I was living quite unconsciously at the time. On the surface, I was living the capitalist dream. I’d moved out of my mum’s into a flash rental apartment. I was making stacks of cash and driving a brand new Prado. Our business goal was to make $ 10 million in 18 months. Blah blah blah. Many of you know this. Many of you were there.
And I spent $30,000 on new shit to fill this apartment, too.
With a new baby inside of me, though, I was jolted into facing some hard truths. Did I WANT to keep going in the direction I was going in? Pedal to the metal in business, barely seeing my kids, living off takeaway, advancement at all costs!
The honest answer was no. But choosing to walk away broke me more than a little. 2022 was the most uncomfortable year of my life. I spent most of it in a survival state. You might not have heard that expression, but I guarantee you or someone you know has lived through it or is living it. Living in survival means your brain cannot determine that you are safe, and you remain in a constant state of hyper-vigilance to control your life. Money plays a huge part in keeping humans in a survival state.
We’re constantly fed messages that we aren’t enough without x,y,z thing. We’re constantly trying to keep up with the “Jones’”. For ego, yes. But also because conformity breeds social safety. We strive to have more of it, but no matter how much we have, we always adjust the goal because the experience of lack is built into our operating systems. I felt just as lacking with $100,000 in savings as I did with $1,000.
So here I am, living in a state of lack and survival. My social life is on fire. My entire sense of identity is on fire. I’m operating on pure autopilot, and my stress levels are insane. Then, amongst all of this, I commit to attending an intense ten-day business school event whilst seven months pregnant.
This fucking event. Business school 2022.
Truth be told, I could write a book about that event and everything I learned there, but I don’t want to distract from this story. And this is what happened next …
Lynne Twist was a guest speaker. Her talk was given virtually via Zoom, though it was live.
Lynne had an inspiring story to share. She left many of us in the room in tears. As she was wrapping up her talk, one of the event attendees stood up. She was, she is, a spiritual woman. She gathered together every woman in the room and brought us to stand together where Lynne could see us.
To my surprise, she then placed her hands on my pregnant stomach. She started talking in light language – we couldn’t understand. She seemed to go into a trance. And when she was done, she said that my child had a message for all the women in the room.
The tension in the air was thick. We were emotional. We women, perhaps 30 of us and all from different walks of life, were waiting for something. We didn’t know what. And then the message came.
Dream bigger.
I feel emotional even thinking about that moment. That was the moment I knew I was carrying someone very special. I think it was also the moment I knew – strangely – that I was carrying a boy. A gentle soul. A change maker.
I kept this in my office for months afterwards. I was working on a personal development course that I never launched.
When I got home, I read Lynne Twist’s first book, “The Soul of Money”. In it, she talks passionately about the Sophia Century, a time when women will come into equal partnership with men to create a more balanced future. It gave me shivers to read.
Lynne Twist – highly recommend.
And ever since, I have been battling my conflicting desires to let it go and maintain my individualism – doing the best I can for myself and my family, or being on the front line of change itself.
Because the world we are in is not working. If it were working, there would be more ease. More joy. More happiness. More creating. More community. Love. More love.
Instead, there is tension and friction. There is survival. There is hurt. There is hate. So much hate.
And it does NOT need to be so.
That, truth be told, is why I share things with you that make me feel ashamed and regretful and embarrassed. Because not enough people do. Not enough people are brave enough to voice these feelings out loud. Publicly.
If my posts make you feel uncomfortable, good. Discomfort is the very beginning of change. Be uncomfortable. But don’t look away.
I have always been idealistic. I have always believed in a better world and expected better of people. And it has hurt me over and over again. But to give up on wanting more is to give up the strongest, bravest and truest part of myself—my very soul.
Dream bigger.
Love Lauren x
**Originally published to my email database on the 19th of February, 2026**
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