When Your Demons Come Home to Roost

September 28, 2025 / Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Letters from Hell #6

Today is a bad day. This has been a difficult weekend. For no (every) reason whatsoever, I have been feeling profoundly sad bordering on depressed. This is a stuck kind of sorrow compounded by a prescription antidepressant that makes it really difficult for me to cry. I feel like I’ve got a 20 ton boulder sitting on my chest, just behind my sternum.

Usually, I know what to do with this kind of sorrow. I sit with it. I allow myself to feel it. I apply Tonglen or Ho’oponopono to it. This time, neither seem to be budging the load.

I allowed myself a weekend of self-care. I planned for nothing and allowed myself to simply rest. I didn’t much have a choice as I’ve also been feeling the consequences of autumn allergies. To put it bluntly I feel like SH*T. I don’t do well when I’m sick. I tend to fall into judgment, self-loathing, and self-flagellation at the hands of my inner critic who looks an awful lot like the “Shame nun” from Game of Thrones. “Shame. Shame. Shame.”

I’m not good at being vulnerable. I feel embarrassed and ashamed. I don’t want to invite anyone into my vulnerability. There is really nothing anyone can say that will make it better when I’m feeling this way. I know I just need to wait it out.

This morning I wrote in my journal. These are the words that surfaced:

Taking this moment to pause. Suffering fall allergies and the pure exhaustion of a forced life. How much have I forced my self to be and do ____________ instead of just being myself. I’m tired. I feel stuck, but I’m not sure I really care. I’ve worn out my dreams.

I’ve worn out my dreams.

My dreams of a forever love.

Dreams of becoming a successful writer.

Fantasies of becoming a sought-after teacher.

Herein lies at least one face of this deep sorrow. I’m grieving. I’m grieving the failure of the goals, wishes, and dreams I had for my life and which I pursued with a vengeance. No one can say that I didn’t try (though I know some who will tell me I didn’t try hard enough or in the right way – to them I say, whatever).

Life doesn’t always give us what we want. And when we don’t get what we want, we can be like Sisyphus vainly attempting to roll the boulder up the mountain, killing ourselves in the process, or step aside, letting gravity take the boulder to where it naturally wants to go.

At some point in our lives, we are all faced with a crowd of our unrealized dreams. We can cling to or try to revive these dreams, or we can surrender to the fact that maybe these dreams were never meant to be fulfilled and/or that the journey was the point, and not the destination.

It still makes me mad. I know what my gifts are and on some days it just kills me to know that they are not being utilized.

I grieve this as well.

As the Rolling Stones once said, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometime, you’ll find, you get what you need.” (Hmmm….that might be bullshit too….unless they’re including getting what we need only by the skin of our teeth.)

Being human is hard. Today is one of those days where it feels especially hard. I don’t like feeling sad or vulnerable. I don’t appreciate the demons of self-doubt, personal loathing, or shame that dance around in my head when I’m feeling this way. I also know better than to try to “change my thoughts” (toxic positivity) in an attempt to make the demons go away.

Instead, I sit with the demons. I call each of them forward. And I do my best to LOVE them. Each of them arose out of some kind of need – whether it be the need to belong, the need to believe the lies of perceived authority, or to keep me in compliance with the system, they came as some kind of support. Additionally, they show up to remind me of the deep pain I’m still carrying from trauma I’ve experienced in my life, along with an invitation to tend to yet another deeper layer of that pain that is now ready to be seen, felt, processed and released.

As is always true of the spiritual journey – wash, rinse repeat. So back to the demons I go to hear what they have to offer me in the way of healing this time.

Thank you sirs, may I have another.

Endings

May 20, 2025 / Lauri Ann Lumby / 2 Comments

I’m writing this for the sake of transparency and to be open and honest about the vulnerability that comes with endings.

Endings: It seems that the work I have passionately nurtured over the past thirty years is coming to an end. I’m not going into the details of this because the details are boring and unimportant. What matters is that many people have been served and found benefit in my in-person and online courses and training programs. I am grateful to have been able to serve in this way and for the creative inspiration that brought these courses and services into being.

Endings: are weird. I should be sad, but I’m not. I have been sad and the grief has gone from despair to terror to writhing, to surrender. Today, I find myself resigned. As St. Paul said, “I’ve fought the good fight. (2 Timothy 4:7)” I’ve been obedient to the inner guidance that compelled me to create these courses and share them. I’ve done what I know how to do to extend invitations for people to participate. I’ve shown up as a facilitator and guide. For a time, people showed up to enthusiastically participate. Over time, that has dwindled. Now there is nothing.

Endings: It’s ok. “To everything there is a season….turn, turn, turn…” But I have to ask, what comes after reaping?

Endings: Nothing. Nothing comes after reaping. After reaping is fallow time. It’s a time to rest and to wait. It’s a time to simply be. For now, this is what I’m doing. I know better than to beat bushes and chase after potential new opportunities. I know better than to try to hold up something that is already dead. I know better than to force something that is not yet ready to come into being.

Endings: Waiting in the no-thing is hard. Unfinished sorrows come up to be revisited. “Shoulda, coulda, woulda’s” whisper in our ears. With nothing to do we grow restless and impatient. We are tempted to try to “make things happen” when we are really only supposed to be anchored firmly in the void. Fears around survival make their appearance. “How will you pay your bills? How will you cover rent? What will you do about money?” We are conditioned to act, but during these fallow times, our conditioning no longer serves.

Endings: Wait. Watch. Listen. Be present to whatever faces of grief and temptation show themselves. Refrain from doing or taking action until whatever is coming to take the place of what is ending shows itself. And know that the new, when it comes, will be obvious and exactly what I need at this place in my journey for whatever time I have left on this planet.

Endings: are a blessing for they clear the way for something new and better to take its place – often something we might never expect for ourselves and potentially something beyond our wildest dreams. I am willing to surrender to this ending so that new life might come in – whatever that new life might be.

Endings: another thing I’ve learned is that I am not in charge. Source/God alone knows what it has planned for me. “Let it be done to me according to your word.”

PS: for those who will want to worry, I’m really ok. Sad, yes. Unsure about what is to come, yes. And while I don’t exactly know what this ending will fully look like, it’s been a long-time coming. I’ve experienced endings before and know that here too, something is coming to take its place. It just hasn’t yet shown itself. Without my interference, it will and I will know it when it arrives. Thank you for your kind thoughts and support through this time of unknowing. Love, Lauri.

Lamenting a Cruel World

November 30, 2022November 30, 2022 / Lauri Ann Lumby / 6 Comments

A dearly beloved friend recently observed of me:

“You are a formidable and vulnerable teacher.”

I could not disagree with him and I am deeply grateful for his ability to see and articulate my truth. There is something uniquely profound about truly being seen.

Whereas I may present to many/most as a strong, independent, formidable force, my truest self is deeply vulnerable and fragile. I, like most who are truly honest with themselves, have been wounded by this world. It may appear to many, in fact many have said this of me, “You got this.” As a responsible firstborn Capricorn with a conditioned defense mechanism of independence and dogged self-sufficiency, this may be a safe assumption. Except, on many days, I DO NOT GOT THIS, neither do I want to.

At nearly 58 years old, I’m tired of having to gather up my strength, and don my cloak of resilience in order to survive this world and to find my way through the broken glass and twisted brambles of humanity’s folly.

I wasn’t made for this level of violence. Neither was I made to withstand this much light or noise.

None of us were made for this. Yet few are willing to admit it. Instead, we make excuses (or are conditioned to) for all of humanity’s bad behaviors.

There are no excuses for humanity’s cruelty, deception, lack of integrity, greed, abusive behavior, or betrayal. As a student and teacher of human development, I can assuredly say that every single human being (excepting perhaps sociopaths and psychopaths – but even they can pretend) has both the potential and the power to be loving, compassionate, generous, gentle, and kind. In other words, cruelty is a choice. Admittedly, a choice coming forth out of what are likely deeply unhealed wounds, but a choice, nonetheless. When I know (and provide) resources to support humanity in healing their wounds, this choice becomes even more apparent.

So yes, when I see humans being cruel to each other, taking advantage of others for the sake of their own pride or greed, making excuses for or justifying their bad behaviors, stabbing others in the back, robbing or stealing from each other, I am deeply saddened. I also find myself angered because I know that cruelty is a choice and cannot comprehend why anyone would choose it.

Like I have often said, I wasn’t made for this world. The good news is I know I’m not the only one not made for this world. If you are one who regularly chooses kindness, I hope that in sharing my own vulnerability this gives you permission to do the same, and if nothing else, helps you to know you are not alone.