I die to be born again...

It's amazing to think only a few short years ago I was in the fast lane to death. I lie in my bed in Brooklyn, drowning in tears and brownie bites, ready. Begging to die.

Six years later and I am again ready. This time, demanding to live.

What changed? I rekindled belief in eternal love, detoxed my vessel, and created life. Now, you would think this would be the beginning of a dream come true. Yet somewhere, decay was still happening inside me. I was constantly looking over my shoulder for that something that made me, me. Chasing my youth you say? Chasing a ghost of what was? It's more than that. I have been looking for my apostrophe. (For others, it may be their dash.) That perfect place where I am at play creating my life without fear.

It has been a sideways perfect since that day in Brooklyn. Love saved my life. My life created another. My self went into hibernation and a wife and mother emerged. A perfectly discontented one. I do love this wife and mother, but there has always been something in the depths of my being pulling my heart back toward the bohemian roots that found a home in my apostrophe. For 6 years now I have been trying to convince myself I should let go of the artist in me. I have tried at a few junctures to jump back in by taking dance class and teaching a little as well as doing an audition, but because these few attempts did not work out in the way I wanted I felt they were signs that I should let go. I thought, I must not be meant for that life or else I would be doing it. Fear took hold and spun me into a terrible depression. I was officially lost.

After the passing of my brother last September, my brother’s spirit was in my ear saying, “You have more time, don’t take it for granted.” I believe I was immediately blessed with the lesson my brother’s death was meant to teach me. Despite the fact my brother may not have achieved what some would call success, he lived a fuller life in 35 years than many do in a hundred. I know my brother did not live with regret. My brother was always urging me to step out and ignore the boundaries life sets for us. Especially since having my son I have “colored inside the lines” and lost my identity in my motherhood. I feel that Bryan has been telling me to stop ignoring what is innately in me to do.

I have battled with my self and beaten her down for some time. I have felt so much shame and embarrassment, that I have been a disappointment. I was supposed to be some great thing. My own flesh and blood, my son, does not know anything of the identity I once possessed and it’s tears me apart. All this has escorted in a fantastic realization...that girl that I was is gone forever, but the thing that makes me special is not.

At the suggestion of a friend, a nudge of my brother’s spirit, and the amazing love and dedication from my husband and family, I have decided to embark upon the journey back to my apostrophe. I am ready and open to approach any all avenues to get there. I refuse to get to the end of my life and say, “I wish…” Forget wishing, I’m doing it. Now.