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I Spent December Dying

changeWell, ok, not literally dying. My body and spirit are still trucking along together just fine.

My old self-identity, my ideas of who I was, that is what was dying in December.

December was a painful month. I’m not gonna lie. It was an annoyingly emotional and painful month.

Tears by the bucketful. Bursts of anger over little things. Aching loneliness. Utter confusing. Waves of fear. Moments of relief quickly swallowed by another dive into emotional chaos.

Ah, change. Fun times, huh?

They (whoever “they” are) always seem to make change sound so delightful and wonderful.

“Change your life!”
“Life your dreams – create a life you love!”
“Be the person you’ve always wanted to be!”

Now, I actually agree with these ideas. I must because that’s exactly what I’m doing. Changing my life. Going after and creating my dreams. Becoming more and more of my true self.

I wouldn’t stop for anything.

Yet few people ever seem to talk about the mess in the middle of all that changing.

That’s right. The messiness. The chaos. The “oh shit, what have I done?”

Yeah, that.

Changing our lives means we have to deconstruct the one we’re currently living. Creating our dreams means letting go of the security of the familiar. Becoming more means letting who we currently think we are die.

Welcome to the chaos of change.

Fortunately, this is temporary. And normal. Keep on truckin’ on and your world will eventually level out again – though the landscape may look vastly different.

I wish I could say I had special tricks to share for living through the messiness in the middle. I don’t, really.

All I can really say is hold onto your vision of where you’re going like a lifeline.

Have supportive people to talk with who know when to listen – and when to lovingly kick your butt.

Breathe. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Get fierce about your self-nurturance.

Don’t give up. Hold on.

Because, seriously, the life, the dream, the you that you’re moving toward (perhaps stumbling toward at times!).

It’s worth dying for.

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