Almost three weeks ago, on Saturday, November 2nd, my partner, after over 4 ½ years together (with a 6-month "break" in between—a story for another time), popped the question: "Will you marry me and go on many more adventures with me?" My response? "Omg, yes, of course, I will."
We were on Komodo Island, just a week after the miscarriage. I was still feeling energetically withdrawn and depressed, unsure if anything could excite me. My body was still processing the trauma, and I even had a massive panic attack on the plane—something that rarely happens these days.
On Saturday, he planned a private boat tour of remote islands, including visiting the famous Komodo dragons. Our first stop was Padar Peak's viewpoint, where we could see the tri-colored beaches—black, white, and pink.
It was supposed to be his first attempt to propose, but my bitchy mood quickly derailed his plans. Hot and sweaty, I complained the whole way up, thinking, Why are we doing this? After everything my body had been through. Little did I know, the ring was already in his pocket—a comedic twist in hindsight.
Our next stop was a secluded area of the pink sand beach. Ah, paradise. After nearly passing out on the climb, I couldn't wait to jump into the exquisite turquoise-blue water. Water is so healing, and my unwelcoming attitude washed away as I quickly felt calm and peaceful.
And then, it happened: that magical milestone when he proposed. Years of "relationship training" had led to this, and I was overwhelmed with gratitude.
Yet, for a fleeting moment, my ego—thinking it knows best how to keep me “safe” and “protected”—tried to twist my expansive joy into suffocating fear. It whispered He’s only doing this because of the miscarriage.
Of course, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. But for several minutes, I let myself spiral into this false reality—a comforting chaos created by fear. Then, I snapped out of it.
Hello, Lauren. Where did you go? I reminded myself to return to my body and the present moment. This engagement was something I'd always wanted—I even found it in my journal the other day for my top five manifestations for 2024. Why let fear rob me of this joy?
The bigger question I needed to ask myself was, Safe and protected from what? The short answer is vulnerability—a feeling deeply tied to joy. Past experiences had taught me that extended periods of happiness felt unfamiliar, even scary. My "suit of armor" always seemed ready to shield me.
But in that moment, something shifted. I began asking myself, Do I want to live the rest of my life like this, or do I deserve to feel better?
It became clear how deeply fear had been ingrained in my life, keeping me from fully embodying peace and love.
This proposal wasn’t just a commitment to him—it was a commitment to releasing fear and embracing the vulnerability that comes with joy.
And that, I’ve realized, is the real adventure. To be continued.
