I LOVE the insight from Karen Dominique. She helped me to write our first book, “A Man for Every Purpose, My Naked Journey Searching for Love”. Her blog site, Millennial Mouth, is brilliant.
“You will die a thousand times before you wake up feeling alive in your own skin. You will love all of the wrong hearts before you realize the strength in your own.”
This quote has been hanging in my soul for days now.
I have died many, many times. I have come back as different versions of myself upon my resurrection each time. I have morphed the way I look, act, think, and feel over and over again.
I think back to the girl I was when I was 19, 23, 26, 29. All were so many different versions of me. Some were sadder than others, some were angrier than others, yet every single version loved with all her heart.
I have killed off those versions so that I could reinvent myself into a different version, not necessarily a “better” version but a wiser version, deciding to lead a more authentic life. I mourn those versions because their nativity was tragically romantic, and I thank them for dying because I felt more alive with every skin that I shed.
I remember coming back to life at 23; I was so strong and needed no one except myself. I was finally independent and free from the shackles of my toxic college relationship. I can see her face now; she was so ready to take on the world with her fresh perspective and healing heart. Scratch that; she refused to let her heart get in the way ever again. She was ready to take back the world after it had taken so much from her.
My rebirth at 26 made me realize that I loved academia, books, research, and deeply studying the human mind. She was enveloped in all of it and loving the thrill of being a mad communications research scientist. She felt smart yet completely incompetent all at the same time as she tested my master hypothesis. She was a working woman who held her big girl job up like a badge of honor. She was finally striving after a big season of rebuilding.
I won’t even get into how many wrong hearts I loved because, well, that’s a scab I’d rather not pick at, at least not today. The hearts I loved were so wrong, and I stayed loving them for much too long. They were not all just boyfriend hearts; they were lover hearts, girlfriend hearts, even family hearts. I loved them, especially because they were all so wrong.
The point is, I have had to die a thousand times to feel alive again. Some of my deaths were more violent than others, but every moment of rebirth held a moment of pure bliss – clarity from the muck that came right before it.
I know I am in the midst of another death. I can feel the morbid truth coursing through my veins. I am making room to re-invent my whole being once again.
Is it uncomfortable? You betcha. Will I survive this death? Most likely. Do I wish there was an easier way through to the other side? Yes and no. What would be the point of dying so many times if it didn’t hurt enough to feel the need to rise up a little higher each time?
How many times have you died?
How many times have you come back to life?
How many times have you buried old versions of yourself only to dig them back up at a later date to ensure you are sound on your way forward?
Just because I have died a thousand times doesn’t mean I am not the owner of my own morgue.
R.I.P. to all my many deaths and wrong hearts. May your lessons stay with me as I choose who the next version of myself will be.
Love Deeply and Forever,