My Ghost, My Angel

For anyone who's ever gone through a transformation or rebirth...

The stripping back.

The letting go.

There she is.

I can see her so clearly now.

That version of me that’s no longer fully residing in my body.

It’s like she’s hovering just outside of me.

There are moments it feels like I can hold her hand, lace my fingers in hers, and look into her eyes and smile.

Or cry.

Or roll my eyes.

Or scream.

Maybe I’m laughing with her.

Maybe I’m rolling my eyes at her.

Maybe I’m whispering “thank you for getting me here” while I simultaneously push her out the door, wanting more distance between us because as much as I love her and honor her… as much as I needed her and see her bravery, vulnerability, and openness…

She also makes me cringe.

Other people that I come across in my life right now that remind me of her have been triggering me massively.

I can’t unsee these parts of her… these parts of myself that were her entire identity…her entire purpose… her worthiness…her value.

And because I’m shedding that skin so a new layer of me can be revealed, I feel compelled to leave it behind. To leave her behind. To step out of that skin and leave it discarded on the floor like dirty laundry. Something that looked great and felt right when I first put it on but has lost its luster over time. “I don’t need that anymore. It doesn’t fit at all.”

And then I feel ashamed and sad and lonely.

Because that woman I want to shake off of my leg as though she’s a snake trying to wrap herself around me? She’s not a pest. She’s not a leech. She’s a f*cking warrior. She’s so powerful. A leader. A wonder.

I just don’t have her energy anymore… that energy doesn’t match my vibration now. She isn’t me. And saying that scares me. Is it really that I don’t have her energy “anymore”? Like I’ll never have it again? Or is it just “for now”? Will I have her energy again someday? Would I even want it?

I don’t know.

What I do know is this.

I don’t need to be her anymore.

What she needed to feel whole, I don’t need.

And what she had to offer, I don’t have.

What I do need is to give this new, raw, tender layer time to be nourished and tended to.

I need to give this fresh part of me that’s been asking to come out… that’s been waiting underneath all of these other layers for decades… I need to give her time to fully form before I fully give her a name and a voice.

And I’ve never really done that.

In my life, I’ve felt the call to go inward. Felt the heavy weight of winter cover me like a blanket. And I’ve pulled it over me and curled up.

But just long enough for a cat nap.

Never the full on winter slumber of a sleepy bear.

No.

I just rest until I feel a tiny shiver that rattles me awake. A little drop of inspiration and energy.

A trickle, really.

And then I somehow squeeze that small ration of fuel out of me and stretch it and expand it until, impossibly, it comes blasting out of a firehose, showering others with my precious reserves until I am hollowed out, empty, unaligned, and angry.

That has been my pattern.

My ego has enjoyed it— it allows me the means to get validation, affirmation, and praise for my work and my gifts and my energy. It has filled me up to be in the trenches with other souls in deep and profound ways… to be a part of their process of transformation and rebirth.

But in the end, there inevitably comes the time when I feel empty.

Sometimes even used or dirty.

And then the shame comes.

And then I really want to hide.

And so I do.

Until I get my next little whisper of energy and ideas begin to send its hot breath down my neck.

And so I rise up from my little nest and shake off the wintery dust much too soon and force an early spring bloom again.

There’s nothing wrong with this story…

It’s a cycle.

Something that should be familiar and acceptable to us all.

But in this life, we often expect ourselves to continue on an upwards trajectory… growing on a steady incline…no dips, no plunges or steep rises following a drop.

This story is the living of life.

It’s the learning our soul lessons.

It’s the becoming and the unbecoming.

And while there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s not a story I want to read again.

It’s not a story I want to write anymore.

I’m all down for the cycles we get to operate from. I celebrate these cycles and I’m grateful for them.

But I’m ready to begin a new one.

A cycle that allows me that deep slumber of a sleepy bear.

A season to pour fully and completely into me without fear and compulsion driving me out of it prematurely, giving every ounce of my energy and defining my identity around how I serve and support others in my work.

A season to keep giving to myself and supporting myself until I am overflowing.

What would be possible in my life if this version of me that’s asking to be born could fully gestate?

What could come to me if I allow an extended incubation time?

What could I feel and create if I don’t come out of hibernation early?

How would I be supported, how would the people around me be supported, and how would the Universe be supported if I pour into myself until my overflow gets to just naturally spill over and touch those that are meant to swim in my healing waters?

I don’t know for certain what would happen, but I have a feeling it would be pretty magical.

And I have the power to write that story.

It just requires one thing.

That I let her go.

The version of me that right now, I ‘m wearing like a veil.

The version of me that’s making me cringe.

The version of me who had the gumption and strength to get us both here.

The version of me who I’m in total awe of… amazed by what she could do because I suddenly feel I no longer have access to that ability.

The version of me who I find a bit naive and maybe even slightly shallow at times.

The version of me who simultaneously astounds me and annoys me.

Who I love with every ounce of my soul and who I also need some space from.

If I’m to discover what it’s like to sleep through the winter…

If I’m to allow this new layer of skin and soul to fully form before bringing them out into the light…

Then I need to take her hands in mine while they still linger in the atmosphere, hovering right around me… and I need to bring them to my lips.

Kiss them with tenderness and gratitude and devotion.

Hold them together with mine in prayer.

And then fall to my knees and weep as I let her go…

Sending her off with the other ghosts and angels who have guided me here…

And invite her to watch over me as I sleep.