As I drove away from the play centre with my son in the back seat, a thought crossed my mind:
“I was probably born to be single for the rest of my life.”
I was in the middle of divorce, tangled up in the messy details, and this was just another one of my daily conversations with the Universe.
The Universe replied: “Yes.”
I wasn’t satisfied with that. So I pushed further, hoping She’d understand my reasoning.
“I’m just different. Weird. Unusual. My life has never looked like anyone else’s.”
The Universe replied again: “Yes.”
So I doubled down, trying to convince Her otherwise, since She seemed intent on disagreeing with me.
“I’ve always been too much, too deep, too complicated, too foreign.”
Again, She said: “Yes.”
That was the first time I truly became aware of this kind of exchange. It mirrored the conversations I had been having with myself for as long as I could remember:
“I want love… but I probably won’t get it, because I’m just not worthy.”
In the past, when I voiced those words to a close friend, I secretly wanted them to argue with me. To shower me with pity disguised as compassion. To insist:
“Of course you deserve love! You’re just as worthy as anyone else. In fact, you deserve the very best—the kind of love that will never leave, never falter, never fail you.”
But the Universe doesn’t argue. She doesn’t try to convince you otherwise. She simply affirms the story you’re telling.
Your belief is your request. And She always delivers.
So when I wanted love, She said yes. And when I believed I couldn’t have it, She said yes to that too. When I doubted that such love even existed, She said yes again.
And there it was: the roller coaster of my life. Wanting and not wanting. Believing and not believing. Desiring and doubting.
The Universe never once disappointed me.
That day in the car, I caught myself mid-thought. For the first time, I saw the pattern clearly.
I wasn’t just unlucky. I wasn’t just doomed to fail. I had been building a life around a foundation of contradiction: longing for what I didn’t believe I could have.
And it showed up everywhere—relationships, career, health, wellbeing. Up and down, like the world’s biggest roller coaster. My thoughts feeding my actions, my actions reinforcing my beliefs, and the Universe echoing back: “Yes.”
I realized something:
It was time to stop disappointing myself.
Time to step off the ride.
Time to stop recycling the old stories from my past and calling them proof of my future.
Because every time I did that, I already knew how the story would end: with disappointment.
Here’s the truth I uncovered:
I had an identity I was deeply attached to—the identity of unworthiness. It was familiar. Comfortable, even. I knew how to play that role. I knew what kind of people it attracted, what kind of disappointments it created, how it shaped my world.
But the version of me who was worthy? The one who was loved, valued, respected, who created, collaborated, and thrived?
That woman was a stranger. I didn’t know how she thought. How she felt. What she wore. How she moved through the world.
And that’s why I created InChrysallis.
It’s my space to get to know her. To meet the woman I always longed to be—the one who believes in her own desires, who knows they can come true, who chooses alignment over fear.
Here, the Universe still says “Yes.”
But this time, I’m choosing what She says yes to.