Some Versions of US Need to Die.

The courage to let go of who we were and become who we are becoming

I have lived a thousand lives.

And in some ways, I feel I have died a thousand deaths too.

Once, quite literally. As a very young child, I was clinically considered dead for a few moments — until I breathed again (true story)!

And many times since, metaphorically.

Through trauma. Loss. Relationships. Health. Dreams that ended. Identities that no longer fit. Those seasons when life takes you through the fire, through the desert, and you know that something in you will never be quite the same again.

For a long time, I thought transformation meant finding my way back to myself.

Back to the woman I was before. Before the losses. Before the disappointments. Before life changed things I never asked it to change.

I don’t believe that anymore!

The Phoenix does not rise from the ashes to become the bird it was before.

It becomes something new.

And perhaps that is one of the hardest truths about transformation:

Some versions of us are not meant to be repaired. They need to die so something new can emerge.

A lot of who I am today has to do with who I am no longer.

Some of the woman I was was built around survival. Some around expectations. Some around belonging. Some around stories I had repeated for so long that I had mistaken them for truth.

And this is where transformation asks something more of us.

Not only to let an old version of ourselves die, but to stop telling the old story that keeps bringing her back to life.

Because our narratives matter.

The stories we repeat about who we are, what happened to us, what is possible for us, what we deserve, and where we belong quietly shape the lives we create.

At some point, we have to decide:

Am I going to keep speaking from the woman I was or begin speaking from the woman I am becoming?

That does not mean denying the past.

I can honour the woman I was. I can carry her wisdom. I can forgive her mistakes and celebrate all that she accomplished. I can love her for EVERTHING she caried, survived and became.

Without continuing to live inside her story.

I will not be the Christy I used to be.

And perhaps I am finally understanding that I am not supposed to be.

There is a new woman emerging.

I don’t know every part of her yet.

But I choose her. I welcome her. I will cherish her needs, her energy, her boundaries and her gifts - all that she is - and create the space she needs to spread her wings.

And from now on, I want to speak, choose and create from her, from the woman I am becoming.

A woman who trusts and welcomes the Divine Plan unfolding for her.

Rising from the ashes is only the beginning.

The real transformation is the story we choose to write once we have wings again.

Much Love

Christy

Change Your Narrative. Own Your Life.