Aesthetically, fuck you

Aesthetically, fuck you

My brain is wiiiiired for the drama, the trauma, the crawling out of dark spaces, the focus on betterment, working on myself, improving this that and the other and, well, I’m kind of tired. I haven’t opened this in FOUR years because I didn’t want to confront how often I write about things I am working on. The last time I posted (four years ago) was a private post about the same thing I was going to write about today… which further confirms where my brain is comfortable. I’ll sum it up so I can move on. My intense response to emotional situations with men (i.e. hiding under tables, kicking and screaming, shutting down in utter and complete fear) are a trauma response I was “gifted” when I was 16 and completely violated – my body responded, or didn’t, a certain way and has continued to over the next 20+ years as I, and all of my therapists, have somehow not quite put that together or taught me how to create safety around feelings, emotions, disagreements, etc. I have since then sought relationships that exaggerate and/or mirror behaviors of my abusers.

Great, moving on. I’m ENGAGED!!! I would like to be very clear, this is a pattern change in the most spectacular of ways. I am safe, I am loved, I am cherished. There is room for my whole self, I am held when I cry, I am reminded I am safe when my body believes I’m in danger, I am celebrated for all I have walked through and most importantly, for me, we are focusing on living in that part of myself less. On romanticizing the life we have built, dancing in the rain, on whimsy and aesthetics – because they make my heart smile. This man is a “put on a record and dance in the living room” man, a “cry in my arms so tomorrow you can laugh in them” man. Did we just wake up here one day? HELL no, we worked our asses of for it. We show up for each other, wherever we are at… and then take a walk to watch the deer prance across the meadow. We make life magic by showing up for it.

Good thing – because I was sexually assaulted in December by a close friend. There are a million details that make this story especially rough, and I’d like to keep those close. At this point, it felt like I somehow found these situations for myself. As is briefly mentioned previously, my brain is wired toward trauma, my body revels in shutting down. At some point, naturally, I started to believe that I was weak, that I ask for it, that I surround myself with a life that will perpetuate this cycle. There is research to back some of that, intellectually I understand this and that made it beyond infuriating that understanding did not help. Please, please understand that this is not victim blaming. I do not take accountability for anyone behaving in these despicable ways, or for violating someone (me) that should have absolutely been in a safe environment. I especially understand the wrongness as I can 1,000% say that had the roles been reversed, there would be no victim, no early flights home, no emergency medical leave, no dark basement for weeks on end, no twitching spells or psychiatry appointments. So to be clear, a big FUCK YOU to this person.

Anyway, back to my fiancé, whom I am learning I can be free with. I have been stuck in a body that learned something a long time ago that does not serve me, and while I understand it, I resent it. I know that having a person is not a necessity, but I also learned that not having one, or continuing to date emotionally unavailable, perpetually avoidant partners was helping me avoid addressing the things I needed to break out of my abuse cycles. Here, with this person, I am being witnessed. I am yelling, dancing, jumping up and down, bothering him, kicking and screaming and hitting the ground, getting (safely) angry, crying LOUDLY, laughing even louder and without restraint. I am sitting quietly, learning to again experience the world rather than gather information to protect myself from it. I’m sitting at a cute coffee shop, writing on my blog, in a cute outfit with wild, red, curly hair and a honey lavender latte because to me these things matter, these things are life. I give myself an incredible amount of credit for getting here, for being here, for moving forward. And I give endless thanks to this soft blue-eyed man, mostly for letting me stare into those eyes as long as I need to so I can find all of the good things of the world reflected in them.

I guess today is a little bit of fuck you, a little bit of thank you, a touch of freedom and a world of hope.

Love y’all.

Doing Dallas Alone

Doing Dallas Alone

I moved to Dallas, Texas in the middle of summer 2018. I was newly married and ready to live out the rest of my well-planned life. My engagement checked all my boxes- I was 28, which meant I could be married before I turned 30. That’s it, that was my only box. It was a great day filled with fishing, lots of coffee, a California sunset, crashing waves, and a man that had absolutely changed my life. Before I met him I had been struggling to stop drinking, was technically unemployed, and had recently moved back to my parents house. While I did the footwork, he absolutely paved the path. I had been flailing for years and having an example of stability and discipline was live-saving.

By the time we got engaged, married and moved to Dallas, our connection had all but disintegrated. That’s a story for another day, but the relationship had proven a large distraction from the impending internal overhaul I needed. We were living separately by June of 2019, and the divorce was finalized in February 2020. I will likely mention divorce often throughout this blog. It is not a dirty word, and in my case, wasn’t a dirty experience. I’ll address this another day.

Once he moved back to California and after a whirlwind of a couple years, I found myself in the middle of 2020 (yikes), 1,689 miles from home and divorced. My life plans had seemingly blown up right in front of me. My dog, Boomer, and I set out on a self-discovery journey.

This looked like foster dogs, long walks, long talks, reconnecting to my sex life, therapy, journaling, self-help books, Netflix binging, sitting in feelings, avoiding feelings, online dating, swearing off dating forever, dating again, more therapy… and A LOT of alone time with my feelings *gasp*.

I feel privileged to have the kind of health insurance that allows for such regular therapy visits. Without her guidance I have no doubt I would be deep in my favorite unhealthy coping mechanisms. I truly believe they served me until I could get here, but their time is up. For me, to face the emotions of my life is no small task. This is the biggest, most intentional transformation I have ever willingly walked into and I think it’s important recognize that while I have always managed the best I knew how, and that I now know better.

Ugh. THIS. IS. HARD. There is a global pandemic, I have a full time job, a social life to keep up with, a dog to take care of, I suffer from chronic migraines and all of this brain work is IMMENSELY EXHAUSTING. It is a complete overhaul of my brain, rewiring my decision making, making sense of my childhood and the effects it has on my adulthood, my feelings, the connections between trauma and behavior, of emotional abandonment. I am learning how to connect with and respect my body, the significance of boundaries. I am connecting the stories of my life to the feelings attached to them and I am TIRED. I am depressed most of the time, I don’t enjoy the simple things I normally find so much joy in. Every day is long, and every task takes effort. There is this underlying feeling, though, that something has shifted. When I look at the last few months I see COURAGE, STRENGTH, RESILIENCE. I see a woman treating herself with RESPECT, with PATIENCE, with ENCOURAGEMENT.

THAT is why I am doing this. THAT is who I am and who I am becoming every time I make a decision to do the hard thing, to look a little deeper, to be a little more honest, more willing. Every now and then the sun peeks out of the clouds and I feel it in my soul. I am trudging but there is forever hope, and I know my light cannot be put out.

I am doing this. I have a wonderful support group, a phenomenal therapist, a loving God, a perfect puppy… But I am doing this, feeling the feelings, showing up, opening up, digging deeper. Dallas, Texas has given me the space and the resources that I needed to go this alone and I can’t wait to see where I go. I’m doing Dallas alone and I am KILLING it when it isn’t killing me.

Love y’all.

Meet Lindsay

Meet Lindsay

Hey Y’all!

Here are some things about me: I love spirituality, I haven’t always, and I think it is a deeply personal journey. I do not subscribe to religion as I find it limiting. I believe in the validation of everyone’s separate belief system (within reason). I am a lover of animals, specifically dogs and horses, but more specifically my dog (just being honest). I am a sober alcoholic (as of 2014! My journey began in 2010. You’ll learn plenty). I live for coffee and it lives for me. I have experienced rape and sexual assault, followed by a laundry list of *interesting* survival skills. I believe strongly in therapy and other forms of trauma work, especially reconnecting with my body. I am happy to share my experience of healing, but understand that everyone heals differently and on their own time, if at all. People fascinate me and I enjoy making new friendships, just as I enjoy nurturing old ones. I am no professional interior designer, but if I could be without going to school, your girl would be SET. As of now, I just spend too much money redecorating my apartment. I like to shop- love to spend money, it may or may not get me in trouble sometimes. Okay, it may. I am divorced, which got me a puppy-daddy. Through that process I learned that kindness holds immeasurable value. I’m a sucker for ice cream, burgers, pizza, sushi, cupcakes, seafood, steak… okay, so food. I like food.

I’m here to chat a little about life and my experience with it. The only way my experiences are unique, is that they belong to me and no one else can own them. They are not unique in the sense that on one level or another, someone can relate. Whether it’s joy or sorrow, someone has been there. I love life, and I have also experienced immeasurable pain. Those two things can co-exist, and for me, it is sharing that helps that be true. I hope to build a community of people learning to do the same- that’s all I’m doing!


My name is Lindsay, born and raised in the Bay Area, California, currently living in Dallas, Texas with my baby boy, Boomer. He’s an English Cocker Spaniel and is the light of my life. I grew up writing mostly for therapeutic reasons, which still applies, but it has evolved into an act of empowerment. I have always wanted to share my voice with the world once I found it, but found myself asking questions like:
“Why would people want to hear from me?”
“What do I have to offer that someone else doesn’t?”
“Will my friends and family judge me?”
“What if I’m not good enough?”

I believe those fears are part of what kept me from finding my voice. I believe this is what that looks like for me. I believe that if the things keeping me from taking action have to do with others and not myself, that is something to pay attention to.


I love you all and look forward to our journey together.