There is a familiar, uncomfortable ache that comes with growing. It is a death. A severing of your former self.
It is a pain that lets you know on a primal level that you're not who you used to be anymore. It's a loss. A funeral without a body. No flowers or condolences. Just you, with fragmented pieces of who you used to be- and no clear vision of who you are to become.
In life, we die a thousand deaths. Not in the physical form, but in the spiritual. In the way we used to be. in the way we see the world. Our friends. Our values. In the way we used to settle. In the ways we played small.
Sometimes these deaths are abrupt and painful as hell. Sometimes they happen over time, so gradually you cant see them except in hindsight. Each one is a shedding. A shedding of skin that is too tight, too tired, too worn out and too rooted in survival mode.
Sometimes it's a quiet death. Sometimes it's a blazing fire and a declaration that we will NEVER be that person again. All of these deaths are sacred. All of them essential. Each time you are laying that version of you to rest, and brand new, more authentic you emerges.
If you are in that in-between space right now-you are not lost. You are not dying, you are alive in the most beautiful way.
Give yourself permission to mourn the loss of who you once were. Light a candle for her and thank her for surviving. Then step into the next version of yourself. She's waiting.
We don't just "find ourselves" once in life. It's a perpetual cycle and like a phoenix we burn and arise new again. And with each becoming, a new death is around the corner. But don't be afraid, darling. it's only a little fire.
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