One morning, I felt like I was being punished by the universe, but I didn’t know what I was doing wrong. I spent my whole life feeling like this. I spent my whole life trying desperately to be the good girl and do everything right according to what I'd been told.
The messaging from the angels I’d been receiving that week had been about moving forward out of my tower moment. I was told I’d completed my karmic path, and I had finally arrived as the real me.
But on that particular morning, I kept hitting brick walls while trying to work on a collaboration I was excited about. My morning was chaotic, the editing apps weren’t working, and when I finally got the videos posted, there was no engagement. I was trying so hard to do everything right. Trying so hard to be the good girl, as usual.
I asked the angels, “What am I doing wrong? Why is nothing working?”
And my question was answered directly by our Creator.
She said, “You failed.”
God was saying I failed my soul’s path.
I stood there in my freshly painted moody-blue living room, stunned.
I failed? I’m not going to complete my soul’s mission? I’m not going to reunite with my soulmate or the rest of my soul family?
I was told I deserved those things. They said I was worthy and that I was chosen for this path and this purpose, but suddenly it seemed like none of it was actually meant for me.
The weight of it all suddenly hit me like a freight train. The weight of always trying so hard to be good and always failing.
I sank to the floor and cried.
My sobs got louder, my tears soaking my face as I thought about everything I’ve been through. All the times I’ve been told I wasn’t good enough. The times I’ve felt abandoned in my life. All the times I abandoned a dream because I was told I’d already failed or it was too hard for me.
I wept for every time I abandoned myself to be the good girl that I was expected to be.
But eventually, I stood up and walked to my computer, tears still streaming down my face. I sat down in my oversized white chair, the sobs softening into a steady cry, and I continued with the commitment I had made to myself and to those I was collaborating with.
With the commitment I’ve made to women around the world and to the Divine.
I didn’t stop crying because I no longer see my tears as weakness, as being oversensitive, or as being broken. I see them as a way to purge the pain from my body. I see them as my truth when the weight of the world gets too heavy.
I see my tears as unconditional love for myself.
Through these tears, I stood up.
I told God, the angels, and every being that surrounded me to go fuck themselves, and I kept moving.
Kept crying.
And Mother said, “Good girl.”