Something died when I gave birth.
The illusion of having it together
Of being separate
The predictability of my life
The feeling of control over the future and the freedom of the present
In the death of an illusion I was stretched open
Space was created physically and metaphorically
Space for a dance between love and sadness, joy and anxiety all to co-exist in the same day
Space for old wounds to resurface
Beliefs that had been lingering deep down inside me
Space for healing and for a new depth of being
While I keep looking at uncertainty straight in the face
It’s not about the “old me” and the “new me”.
It’s about the death of an illusion before the next illusion arises
It’s about the hardest thing I have ever done in my life
Being completely broken open and the only antidote is kindness and presence