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

 

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