Hi beautiful soul.
I’m LuLu and today is my birthday.
Today I write a love letter to my pain.
May it alchemize you the way it is calling to alchemize me at the moment.
You taught me how to be alive.
You raised me, too.
You taught me how to teach from authenticity.
You taught me how to slow down.
You taught me how to move with integrity and invited me into presence more times than I can count.
You listened when I was angry.
You cried with me.
You felt with me.
You taught me what emotions feel like in the physical body.
You taught me how to speak to them, and you held your ground until I did it accurately.
You taught me how strong I am.
You taught me about how high my pain tolerance is.
You held your ground when I tested every single boundary.
You taught me how to truly forgive; like the kind of forgiveness that sends relief through your bloodstream and radiates peaceful tears of gratitude and desirelessness.
You have invited me to explore every aspect of your depth, without wavering, and today I wish to say goodbye to you. This is a goodbye love letter.
Thank you for showing me everything I love about myself.
Thank you for showing me everything I love about life and simply being alive.
Thank you for getting me to stop lifting heavy objects. I’m a queen. Someone else can always lift it.
Thank you for teaching me how to show up for myself: to honor my own boundaries, healthy limitations, and making it literally impossible to say yes to misalignment.
Thank you for healing.
Thank you for mending.
Thank you for listening back.
Thank you for teaching me how to be myself.
Thank you for teaching me how to break through.
Thank you for teaching me about my own unique body and wisdom.
There are not many places we haven’t gone together over the past 8 years.
I’ll probably miss you when you’re gone.
We’ve been through a lot together.
It’s time for you to go, and you know it.
You know I don’t have to learn from pain anymore.
You know I can learn from love now.
You know I don’t need to take the hard way.
You know I’m ready for grace, ease, freedom, and true love.
We both know it.
So on the eve of your birthday — I want to invite you to transform.
I invite you to return to the love that made you; the love that brought you to me as teacher.
I invite you to let go.
I invite you to die.
“Here lies the body of work that taught LuLu her greatest life lessons (so far)”
I invite you to transition because I can take it from here.
We all outgrow things. You had to know this day would come.
I love you.
I honor you.
I appreciate you.
I promise to listen the first time.
I promise to listen every day.
I’m not the same person you met 8 years ago. Not even close, my love.
You did that.
I did that.
We did that.
I will share your teachings with as many on this earth who will listen.
That you can count on.
Because you gave me my voice back.
I’ll never be the same.
I love you,