A Thousand Times

“A thousand times we die in one life. We crumble, break and tear apart until the layers of illusion are burned away and all that is left, is the truth of who and what we really are.” Teal Scott


I have read this quote many times and think to myself, if we are capable of hypothetically dying a thousand times in one lifetime, we must also consider that a portion of those deaths were suicides. The tearing apart of oneself in the hopes to be born wiser, better and assumedly happier, means that our other lives were taken by some form of our own “new” being. I cannot help but wonder how bad our former selves, or thoughts, or situations must be to want to become a new person by crumbling, tearing and breaking. How can someone get so far off track that they would rather face the pain and uncomfortableness of killing parts of who they are, to become who they want to be?

Although I support the “grow, be better, reinvent yourself and educate yourself” topic the quote above implies, I am having a hard time convincing the train wreck that has become my post-death yet not entirely reborn life, that things will get better. While I am on the topic, this status fits quite well. I have gone from being a perfectly capable, sure, confident and responsible adult to be a reckless, confused, needy and repressed adult-child who can’t quite jump back on the responsibility train without needing to breathe into a paper bag and then sleep off the anxiety; or run away from it all together.  With each significant passing death, I have become smarter and have felt closer to my purpose; but I have grown exceeding worse at managing the rebirth and growth stages.  Starting over is hard and extremely painful, and I know that to build a new life, the old one must die but the grieving process never gets more comfortable and the heart never fully recovers without a sense of fear and uncertainty.

Though I cannot tell you which death I am now recovering from, I do hope it is closer to the last time than it is to the first. My heart is tired, and my nerves are raw, no matter how hard I try to avoid the end of the looming “grace period” extended to me by those around me I am simply just not ready to take those crucial first steps. My terror grips me, and my knees buckle at the slightest reprieve. I am not prepared to put myself back together for fear of finding out I not only fall short but that I am not even close to being improved as I had hoped to be. I fear that my insecurities and self-doubts will become verified as fact rather than eradicated. The more I see others around me so sure of themselves and their skills, the more self-vilifying and afraid I become. This fear and uncertainty have made it harder for me to leave any space, real or false, that provides me with even the littlest comfort and acceptance; or at the very least releases me from any judgment from another person.

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