Art by Ann Clyde Recently in a very deep and revelatory session I had with my therapist, I remarked in between insights that I felt the pain of grief. Grief over dropping a very old storyline. Grief about without the story, who am I. She said in effect, ‘Of course you do, the person you were has to die to make room for who you are now.’ I’ve come a long way in dissecting the stuff of my life that has held me back, the repeated patterns and toxic behaviors born out of thoughts and beliefs that I took as concrete truths. Even when I thought I had conquered a particular issue, remnants would continue to pop up unexpectedly. ‘I’m 63, and I’m still dealing with this shit?’
The Part Of You That Has To Die
The Part Of You That Has To Die
The Part Of You That Has To Die
Art by Ann Clyde Recently in a very deep and revelatory session I had with my therapist, I remarked in between insights that I felt the pain of grief. Grief over dropping a very old storyline. Grief about without the story, who am I. She said in effect, ‘Of course you do, the person you were has to die to make room for who you are now.’ I’ve come a long way in dissecting the stuff of my life that has held me back, the repeated patterns and toxic behaviors born out of thoughts and beliefs that I took as concrete truths. Even when I thought I had conquered a particular issue, remnants would continue to pop up unexpectedly. ‘I’m 63, and I’m still dealing with this shit?’