As I embarked on what turned out to be a three-year healing journey, I had this unshakable feeling that something had to "die" before I could truly and completely heal the perfect storm that led to a breast cancer diagnosis in 2014.
I hoped that something wasn't me, although the death of me wasn't the scary part. It was the getting sick version of me that I didn't think I could bear.
As it turns out, there were many things in my life that needed to die before I could allow my essential self to come forth...and so far, "me" has not been one of them.
My communications technology startup company had to die. Many of my less than fulfilling relationships had to die. My willingness to compromise myself when it wasn't in my best interest had to die.
But most of all, my thoughts that created suffering had to die. The ruminations, the regrets, the stories told by my social self and her band of chatty monkeys. Yep, they all had to die.
With all those deaths, the re-birth of me was possible. And that new version of me is a lot happier, healthier, and whole.