The Death Card. At first glance it feels ominous, daunting. Is this feeble, pliable tarot card really predicting the end of me? But with more knowledge of tarot comes an 18600963_10158879797760352_1021380215_nunderstanding that death doesn’t exclusively relate to a lack of living. There’s a finality to it, this can’t be denied. But it’s not a “heart stops beating, lungs cease to inflate” kind of message. In this case, death pertains to an aspect of your life. Something needs to change, to evolve, to end.

Lately, I’ve felt like the embodiment of this card.

My Achilles heel has always been my unquenchable thirst to be highly regarded. To be well liked. To be cared about. This longing has lead to me being a shadow of myself, someone who changes skin like a chameleon to accommodate others. Every word I say is evaluated by a committee in my brain, judging whether it was worthy enough to be uttered aloud. I’ve never viewed myself as someone worth knowing, rather an annoying passenger that people don’t have the heart to kick out of the car.

This constant feeling of inadequacy takes it’s toll on a person. I’ve spent my years with my shoulders hunched, my brow furrowed and my lips curved downwards. I’ve built a wall around myself and never let anyone get too close, fearing that when they see what lies beneath the brick they’ll grimace and bid me a swift adieu.

Recently the universe gifted me an opportunity to change my course. To take a good long look at myself and see if I like what stares back. To see if I recognize myself in the mask I wear daily.

I didn’t see a glimmer of me at all.

I was surprised by the discovery or lack thereof. If you’ve talked to me or read what I’ve written in the past you’ll know that I’ve been through the motions of learning to love oneself before. This isn’t a new concept to me. I thought I had made leaps and bounds of progress and I suppose I had, it just didn’t hold much merit because the me I had learnt to love wasn’t really me.

Once I faced demons and stripped back layers I found familiarity.  A warm feeling, like hearing a song you haven’t heard since you were a kid and finding that you remember all the lyrics.

The demons weren’t easy, there was crying and lethargic numbness and anger and ignorance. But once I got through it I felt lighter than ever. My chin tilted upwards, my shoulders pushed themselves back, my lips turned up at the corners.

I deactivated my Facebook for a time, kept my messaging to a minimum. I spent time outside, I wrote, I read, I listened to jazz.

I got to know myself again.

And I’m happy. I still have depressive episodes and dark days, but I’m the happiest I’ve been in years. I know myself for the first time in a long time, and I love what I see. I’m making strides towards living the life that I want to live. I’ve got amazing friends who are supportive and kind and genuine.

I’m seeing things clearer. And I’m so excited to see where the next months take me, take this blog, take you, take everything.

until next time,


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Figuring it out as I go along, documenting and staying as honest as possible.

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