you & me

An Invitation for the Women Who Leave.


Dear John writers, who’ve bared your souls on the sheets of oh-so-long sheets of paper.

Whose spirit phone rang, and upon answering the call, who couldn’t have comprehended that the hello to yourself meant goodbye to him. Who’ve leapt into the abyss of the unknown, because the paralysis of societal perfection was too painful to endure — for even a moment longer. For the women who leave. Who thrive to overcome. To recover. This is for the women who are more than just one thing. This is for you.

Apple-biters, way-seekers, truth-dwellers, dragon-riders, daughters of Lilith. The women who’ve tasted truth and thirst for more. The Rebella: beautiful rebels who crave a life that’s transcendent. A deliciously spaghetti messy experience where every step of the way is the journey of joy.

Magick with a K. Who revel in their perfuction. The well-fucked women. Who deal in pleasure that sends tingles down your spine, out through wiggling toes, toppling over creased sheets, on a Monday. Who celebrate Sunday every day because every day is a reason to celebrate aliveness. A revealing, revelation, and revolution of the human experience — pleasure and pain inextricably bound together.

Women who delight in their senses, follow their hearts’ intuition, and embrace in ecstasy and agony of this human incarnation. Who celebrate the moment that is, and the possibilities it contains.

Who don’t Please, sir beg for more, but take what’s theirs. Because they can, and they will, because there’s enough for everyone. Because the cake of life celebrates her rebirth as a free women, and we’re all invited to sing around her candles. Her light, to light up thousands more. It’s the time of life’s season to have your cake, and share it. Inclusive, integrated unity.

Women who lust for an indulgent life and embrace their irrationality. What irrationality? Their too-much-ness, their crazy, their truth. Women who will no longer keep silent. Who’ve broken the chains grappled between their thighs of the patriarchal prison — too tight for too long. Women who’ve released themselves from suppression, subservience and supervision.

Granddaughters of the phoenix witches. Wave-riders of change. Who’ve shed their skin again and again. Untangling, un-attaching, freeing themselves as they grow. Ever expanding into heart space. Into undefined relation-shapes. Women who will leave and leave and leave. Because their love is unbound by the constraints of fixed time and place and people.

Women who don’t do the right thing, because by their sheer existence, by being here right now, they’ve realized, I am, only as is now, and now is ever changing. The women of conscious choice and intentional doings who live life on purpose, actively participating in the the creation of their unfolding lives, in layers and layers, from intention to manifestation.

Alchemists, who’ve transformed the lead of their rigid pasts to the golden liberation of their future.

Their freedom, from fear, wholeheartedly expressed through their every vibration. Through the frequency of their principle. Through the iridescent moon-sparkle in the liquid of their eyes.

New narratives for the women who leave. No conclusion: happily ever after, because once upon a time, she left. The heroine’s journey doesn’t start in the comfort of complacency. The suffocation of suburban sameness. The And this is how it goes on and on stuck record, cut short. Replaced with a new song. A story called Bliss. Unique, to each her own. From fixed to fluid. From routine structure to expressive dance.

Leave, women, and open the door to yourselves. To the whole wide world that awaits you, internally.


Do you hear that beat?

Are you ready, can you feel your itchy feet?

They want to move, it’s time to soar,

Leave the limitation of lack to a life filled with more…


To the rising, wild, wolf-women who leave, listen, this is your call,

She recovers her truth when she returns to her core.

Remembering, her way home.


Tick Tock — time beats to her heart’s clock.

The time is now, to leave the past, the then,

She’s called to discover again and again,

This is, the reclamation of She, becoming, Eve, Lilith, Witch, Goddess to Me.


{Join us on FacebookTwitterInstagram & Pinterest}



Lauren Wallett
Lauren Wallett is a compulsive creatress. Connect with her on Instagram, contact her for Connection Coaching, or buy her books/support her writing on Patreon.
Lauren Wallett
Lauren Wallett
Lauren Wallett

Latest posts by Lauren Wallett (see all)

Lauren Wallett