Ingredients Required To Make Lockdown Lemonade

Bag Of Lemons (can Include: Health, Relationships, Finances, Death, Loss, Injury, etc)
Optimism  (Organic)
Positivity (Personal)
Can-Do Attitude (Unlimited Amount)
A Pinch of Vulnerability
A Dash of Authenticity

Serve With A Smile!

Be The Victim of Your Story or Be the Hero of Your Journey. 

 The Lemons.

 

In the blink of an eye, the plans I thought were set in stone felt ripped out from under me. Any stability suddenly vanished. It was February 1, 2020. After a three-month adventure living on the Big Island of Hawaii, I said my final aloha and was en route to returning to life right in the middle of winter in Boulder, Colorado. To set myself up for success, I’d accepted a salaried job and verbally committed to sublet a furnished apartment. In fact, both seemed to fall into place with ease. Though I was not excited about returning to cold and snow, I trusted the Universe had my back and everything was in motion.

On my way to Colorado, I stopped in San Diego for a week to visit my family and watch the Super Bowl with friends. It felt like a little breathing room before my new chapter. But before I could settle in, my phone rang with game-changing news. The company that had offered me a job just ten days prior eliminated the position. Then the housing fell through too. It’s as if the Universe waved her finger in my face with a smirk saying, “I don’t think so!” Devastated, I began to question… everything.

Once hopeful, I was now heartbroken. Why would life line up only to fall apart? How could they do this to me? I thought I was being responsible, but now I felt lost.

Throughout my life, uncertainty was practically certain. Though I knew whatever I was “going through” would be temporary, it didn’t make the waves of anger and frustration any easier. All of a sudden I was unemployed and homeless, surrounded by snow — and weeks prior I’d been a nanny living island life in an Airbnb. I had to drop my victimization even though it felt like the odds were stacked against me. When you’re smack dab in the eye of a storm, it’s impossible to see the silver lining. But I didn’t have time to doubt. I had to have faith everything would work out.

I was being “tested.” 

“Rejection is Redirection, Rejection IS Redirection” 

Back in Colorado, I kept trying to find a job and a place to call home. Then my phone rang — a former nurse I’d worked with years ago, reaching out completely out of nowhere, asking if I’d be interested in interviewing with her company for a remote position. The timing felt like a wink from the Universe. Despite having promised myself I’d never return to my old profession as a Travel Nurse Recruiter, I said yes to learning more.

It was now late February, and the “coronavirus” was the hot topic everywhere. I knew I had to secure something soon. But a week after my interview, the company froze their hiring. Again hurt by the tease of stability, I whispered to myself: you’re going to be OK. Again, I had to trust.

Forced to step back and take inventory, I heard it loud and clear — my heart didn’t want the recruiting job. My heart was back in Hawaii. I missed the ocean breeze, the humidity, the tan skin, even my wild curly hair. Though happy to be with friends, I wasn’t happy with a foot of fresh snow. But what could I do? Where would I go? I tucked that awareness in my back pocket and committed to making Colorado work.

 

From What If… to Why Not

 

With my decision to stay, I had to shift my perspective and make the best of the unknown. And the more I leaned into uncertainty, the more opportunities showed up. A long-term pet-sitting gig. Generous invitations to friends’ guest rooms. A good friend traveling to Indonesia even lent me her car for the month — it helped her have somewhere to store it, and it helped me have wheels. Despite having no plan, the Universe kept handing me hugs and heartfelt high fives. Life felt in flow.

 

Yes, And…

 Some days I’d wake with a huge smile. Other nights I’d lie awake, riddled with anxiety from the nightmare of not knowing my what-next. The “stuck in a funk” days were the worst. To snap out of it I’d do my usual: strap on sneakers and go for a walk.

One afternoon, strolling along the Boulder Creek, clarity hit me like a lightning bolt. Everything I was “doing” was not working. In fact, it didn’t feel like it was meant to work. It felt like a lot of trying to prove something, rather than acknowledging I didn’t need to be there. In that moment of sudden clarity I stopped in my tracks and gave myself permission to say it out loud: I’m not happy here. I want to live by the water. I needed to be back at the ocean.

 

SURRENDER.

 

Pausing with this epiphany, out of nowhere, I heard a gentle voice clearly say: Ask for help. Here I was trying to figure it all out, telling the Universe what I wanted — but I hadn’t asked for divine guidance. So I took a deep breath, put my hands in prayer, and from a place of genuine gratitude, kindly asked out loud: “Pretty please, show me where I’m supposed to live the month of April.” I instantly felt a nudge: log into the San Diego Housing Group on Facebook.

So I listened.

Having lived in San Diego from 2004 to 2011, this came as no surprise. In that very moment I picked up my phone and logged into the group. And BAM. The very first post read: APRIL ONLY — GET IT BEFORE SOMEONE ELSE DOES! Holy wow, was this for real? I scrolled through the stunning photos and scanned the details. It was everything I wanted and then some: minutes from the beach, my price range, even a bike to borrow. Without skipping a beat, I private-messaged the owner: “My bags are packed!!” Yup, those were my exact words.

However, it turned out the house wasn’t actually in San Diego.

In the midst of my excitement, I’d missed a rather important detail. This dream come true wasn’t in So Cal — it was in Tulum, Mexico. Wait. Despite a global wave of confusion, was I being guided to leave the country and consider… paradise?

Visibly shaking with excitement, my intuition smacked me upside the head with a big fat YES. I logged into Southwest, found a direct flight from Denver to Cancun — April 1st, only $135 — clicked purchase, and instantly felt free. A few days later I spoke with the owner, and we agreed it was a fit. Even though this felt crazy, I felt completely confident in my choice.

Accept… COVID- 19.

Unlike most Americans, I wasn’t worried about being “stuck there.” Are you kidding? I loved the idea of quarantining with palm trees and an ocean breeze. Some friends thought I was nuts. Others were jealous. A few were concerned. But 90% gave their blessing. They had no idea how I’d pull it off — but they couldn’t deny that if anyone could, it was me. This didn’t feel like I was trying to go to Mexico. It felt like the opportunity had found me.

 

Then…Southwest Canceled all International Flights.

 

I understood the decision. What I couldn’t understand was how fear was spreading faster than the virus itself. I didn’t fit in with how most of my friends and family felt — and honestly, that was a wild thing to discover about myself. Despite the uncertainty of the world, I felt more certain in some ways than ever before.

The world was shifting.

It was now March 12, and my 42nd birthday was days away — March 15. The retreat I’d booked for myself was cancelled too. So I went back to Southwest and reserved a last-minute 72-hour trip to where I knew I’d be happy: San Diego. Not only was it the right call, it turned out to be the best night on what would become the very last night before the world would never be the same. The next morning, the 16th, we woke to learn San Francisco had gone into lockdown. Shit was getting real — and I had to find a place to live, fast.

But thank goodness it was my birthday weekend, because that meant all my friends were calling to say hi. 

Timing Is Everything

 

Among those birthday calls was one from Tina — a woman I’d met in a women’s bathroom at work over a decade ago, who’d somehow remained one of my closest friends no matter where life scattered us both. A true stranger-turned-soul-sister. She now lived in St. Petersburg, Florida, with a little backyard studio she rented on Airbnb. Months earlier, she and my mom had casually planted a seed — what if you came here instead of Boulder? I’d tucked it away. The timing hadn’t felt right. But standing in the middle of a lockdown with nowhere to land, that seed was suddenly the only thing growing.

She explained the current Airbnb guests were looking for a permanent place, and once they were out, I could move into the studio. Never in my dreams had I thought about Florida — but it had everything I’d craved in Hawaii. And though I didn’t know another soul there, her offer felt divine and perfectly timed. The only catch: I needed a place by March 23, and they were confirmed through March 31. We crossed our fingers.

Then, on March 19, in the middle of a massive snowstorm, I got the text I’d been praying for: “The Airbnb guests are leaving! The casita is ready on March 23!”

— — —

Within 72 hours, I used the same Southwest ticket originally booked to Cancun to book my flight to Tampa. And as if it couldn’t get any better — the friend whose car I’d been driving for a month texted asking if I could leave it parked at the airport by 6 PM on March 24th, the day she’d be returning from Indonesia. My departure time? 5 PM on March 24th. Without trying to make it work, it worked out perfectly.

 

 

 

 

 

Time To Make Lemonade!

With only a few days to get everything in order, I downsized my storage unit into a smaller space, pulled out the same two suitcases I’d packed for Hawaii, grabbed my sundresses, and set myself up for a few months in sunny Florida — having no clue how long I’d be staying.

My last day in Boulder was a bright blue sky, and I spent it hiking with a dear friend. Then I hugged the same two friends who’d picked me up from the airport six weeks prior, hopped into my friend’s borrowed car, and bid farewell, again.

Driving to catch my flight, I felt like I was in a movie. Here I was, leaving everything I knew, having no clue when I’d return or what to expect when I arrived. My emotions ranged from grief to gratitude. Then, twenty minutes from the airport, a friend called to let me know the Governor of Colorado had announced a mandatory lockdown beginning at 5 PM — the very next day. Panic jolted through my body, as if I was trying to outrun a tornado. Only this wasn’t a movie. It was really happening. I knew I was getting out right on time.

Once the car was parked, my bags were checked, and I’d cleared security — I finally, for the first time in weeks, took a huge deep breath and sighed relief. I did it. When it was time to board, I was greeted by a total of 25 other passengers. Everyone was spaced six feet apart, but everyone was incredibly friendly. The flight attendants smiled and instructed us to pick our own row, joking we were all first class with bottomless pretzels for everyone. Looking out my window, I saw the mountains one last time. I was ready to wake up in my new reality.

— This Brings Me to Today, April 24 — One Month Later —

As I write this, I’m sitting at my desk in my little (well, tiny) Pinterest-perfect studio, watching the warm rain dance on the saltwater pool that separates my space from Tina’s place. My skin is golden brown and my hair is soft with curls. And most importantly, I am safe, I am healthy, and I feel… at home.

As Joseph Campbell says, “We must be willing to let go of the life we’ve planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”

As I look back on the chaos — the job, the housing, the flights — everything had to happen, in the time that it happened, in order for my opportunity in Florida to happen. Fully leaning into the uncomfortable space of uncertainty was the key to my daydream of quarantining with an ocean breeze and palm trees, coming true.

Lemonade isn’t made from luck. It’s made… from lemons.

 

I AM WHERE I AM BECAUSE IT’S WHERE I’M MEANT TO BE. I CAN’T BE LATE, I CAN’T BE EARLY.

 Life Happens. 

The first step to making lemonade is to admit it happened. You must call out the chaos and acknowledge the wrench in your plans. You must look your lemon in the eye and accept it. Acceptance is the first step toward healing anything.

When you release tension in the body, you not only open yourself up to positive energy — you allow yourself to feel deeply, ultimately releasing negative emotions. These might include disappointment, sadness, anger, frustration, or grief. Expressing emotions is anything but a sign of weakness. A good cry feels good for a reason. Only after you accept your fear can you turn it into fuel. Feeling your feelings is what I consider the first step to freedom. Vulnerability is the prelude to the perspective shift.

Keep the Faith.

To have faith is a choice. Like I showed in my story, it was the act of surrender that invited the Universe to meet me halfway. But to bring myself to that point — where I can let go and trust — I must first trust myself. The moment you start to doubt your worthiness or your capabilities, you fall off course.

You must believe in the greater plan. I know it’s easier said than done. Faith only becomes my friend after I’ve been brought to my knees — that moment of pulling myself up by my own bootstraps. Believing in myself empowers me to believe in others. Though I empathize with the unsettling, often terrifying feeling of uncertainty, I also can’t emphasize enough the role you play in attaching meaning to “not knowing.” Even when we feel certain about what’s ahead, it can all change in the snap of a finger. This proves that knowing doesn’t protect you — just like not knowing doesn’t destroy you. There’s always a method to the madness.

 

Let Go To Grow.

Detaching from the way something “needs” to go can determine whether you spiral out or remain balanced. It’s the assumptions and expectations that lead to disappointment. Holding on blocks your ability to visualize and feel into what you want to co-create. You must not limit yourself to what’s inside your bubble — instead, see the limitless possibilities in every direction around you.

Think of your limiting beliefs as a dam holding raging waters to a calm standstill. Now imagine removing the dam. Water begins rushing over and under, around rocks, through trees — all streams moving in the same direction. That’s what happens when you stop holding yourself back and begin believing it’s all going to work out. Your willingness to shift your perspective shifts your energy. In that space of a higher vibration, you attract who and what you need. Manifesting isn’t magic — it’s your heart and your mind agreeing to align in their common pursuit of a greater purpose.

The moment you’re able to look at all the lemons that brought you to exactly where you were meant to be, you experience a level of peace that’s hard to put into words. The weight lifts from your shoulders. And as your story continues to shift, your confidence continues to grow. This feeling becomes a stored memory you can tap into any time you need a reminder of your why. You now hold a personal play-by-play of how you turned lemons into lockdown lemonade. You know what it means to be brave and forge ahead. You know your ability to love yourself is unstoppable. You know not only do you deserve to dream — your dreams deserve you, too.

 This is your life. These are your lessons.

What you decide to do with what you learn is up to you. But please — give yourself permission to live your most authentic life. Imagine the unimaginable. Speak your truth. Follow your bliss. And most importantly, practice gratitude. To be grateful is the greatest gift we can offer to honor the journey we call life.

 

Let’s Make Lemonade, Together. 

Are you ready to shift your story and shift your life? If you crave a connected conversation or want guidance connecting with yourself, I’m here. There is no right or wrong, and the Universe doesn’t choose favorites. As long as you are open, you will experience a positive change.

Whether you want to turn lemons into lemonade, or just need a genuine, connected conversation about life — consider me your support. A massage for your heart and soul. I’d love to talk.

You are not alone. We are in this together.

Thank you for being you — and most importantly, thank you for showing up for yourself.

You are not alone. We are in this together.

 Cheers To The Journey,
Carlyn

Social Distancing on a Sunny Afternoon in St. Pete!