Life Without Anesthesia

The path to calm isn’t about avoiding the pain—it’s about holding it without losing yourself.

I Didn’t Know I Had So Much to Cry About

If I added up every tear I’ve cried in my life before the last year and a half… they still wouldn’t come close to what I’ve cried in this period. That’s not an exaggeration. It’s a truth that even surprised me. And no, it’s not because everything is falling apart. Quite the opposite: I’m more at peace, more aligned, and more committed than ever. But that’s precisely why the floodgates opened—because I finally stopped running from myself.

What I’ve cried about has nothing to do with what’s happening now. It’s everything I never let myself feel as a child. The pain I never expressed. The emotions I was never taught how to hold. The things I silenced, minimized, buried, and denied just to survive.

And when I finally gave myself permission to feel, when I understood that the only way to release what was trapped in my body was to move through it, the storm came.

A storm of tears. Not anger, interestingly. Sadness. Disappointment. Grief. And also longing. Suppressed joy. That deep tenderness that has nowhere to go when you don’t feel safe.

It hasn’t always been comfortable. Most of the time, it’s been anything but. Especially when I feel other people’s discomfort with my tears, with my openness, with my rawness. But as Mel Robbins would say: let them. Let them be uncomfortable. Let me do what I need to do.

I’m learning not to apologize for feeling. Not to explain away my process. Not to shrink to make others more at ease. Because one of the biggest lessons from this path of reinvention has been this: there are no emotional shortcuts. If I want to build something real—a community, a project, a new version of myself—I can’t do it while disconnected from my truth.

And it hasn’t been easy. It’s not easy to go from the certainty of a paycheck to the uncertainty of building a heart-driven business. It’s not easy to say no to plans, events, or experiences that once were effortless, because now I choose to invest in what I’m creating.

And yes, that can hurt. It hurts to miss out. It hurts to not be part of something. It hurts to feel left out. Sometimes it feels like shame. Other times like frustration. And often… just loneliness.

But at the same time, I feel fulfilled.Because I know I’m exactly where I need to be. Because what I’m doing isn’t just for me. It’s for everyone who grew up feeling too much and learned to keep it all in. For everyone who knows there’s more, but hasn’t yet found the way in.

I don’t live in a constant state of happiness. I live in a constant state of awareness. I still have my ups and downs—just like everyone. But now I have tools. I have clarity. I have direction.

And most importantly, I’ve given myself permission to feel.

Because now I know: feeling isn’t weakness. It’s the doorway to freedom.

If you’re also in a moment of transition, grief, reinvention—or if you’re just finally allowing yourself to feel things you never knew how to name—please know you’re not alone.

In Hijos del Caos, we meet weekly to listen without judgment, to share from a real place, and to remind each other we’re not in this alone.If you’d like to join, even just to listen, even if you don’t speak, you’re more than welcome.

Sometimes, that’s all we need: a safe space where feeling is allowed.

With all my love,

Linda