Sick of my Story: Time to Shed.

Have you ever had that moment where even you are sick of your story? Sick of the one you tell yourself, the one you are living or the one you are telling others?

It is like the skin you have been wearing all these years no longer fits and yet to shed the one you are in is going to be mighty uncomfortable.

But as you might have guessed, shedding at some point becomes less about choice and more about necessity.

Snakes shed skin to get rid of parasites that live on the old skin. Oh shit.

What parasites are living on me?

Old patterns, engrained ideas and even other people's projections.

Time to shed.

I've begun the process.

My throat chakra feels settled because I know my truth and I know how to speak it.

But now it is my poor heart that fills ripped in two.

My heart knows what is to come.

She senses the discomfort.

She tells me I will have loss.

I will have to hear harsh truths.

I will have to face old thoughts that I am not worthy of love unless I am giving, giving, giving or a loss might be too deep that it will do me in.

The anxiety rises until I just want to be rid of this skin and into the new one except the old one is still shedding.

Exposed.

Naked.

I'm afraid to look into the light because I don't know what I will see.

Keep my wobbly feet on the path even if I have to crawl.