New Age, New Body, New Book

“They say you get a totally new body every 7 years. Can you imagine?

It’s not like you walk in and ask for one. You don’t go in and say, “I want that skinny one with no issues and no scars.” No – it’s done cell by cell, day by day. Would you really chose a new body over this one that has carried you through so much?

I would debate it long and hard but eventually I’d stick with this one. Why? Because even though I want that fresh start, I want the one that is scarred, the one that’s embarrassed, the one that carries so much shame and hate because it only leaves me with room to grow and room to learn and a new chance to reclaim myself and my actions. I can’t pick and chose which parts of my body to exchange the same way I can’t pick and chose which pieces of my history to have lived through.

This may be a new body (technically speaking) but she’s still the same soul. A soul that wants to apologise to everyone for anything and everything. A soul that still misses some of the rocks and some of the mountains (not all because let’s face it, I’m still human and I will forever aim a flame to some bridges that will thankfully forever be ashes) but ultimately I’m a paradox.

I refuse to return to where I was all those cells ago. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m a soul that is a lot happier, a lot stronger, a lot braver, a lot smarter, a lot more compassionate, a lot more understanding, a lot more willing, a lot more forgiving, a lot more stubborn, a lot more fulfilled, a lot more mature, more guarded, more careful, more respectful, more educated and left with a lot more love to give.

You see, for every memory I have from the past <40> years, I’ve learned that it wasn’t just my story that was being written. It was everyone’s, and even if I played the villain, or the bad guy, or was just simply a blip in one chapter of someone else’s, my book will be written solely by me and I refuse to carry the burden of every single dog eared, tear stained, half ripped page that led me to this point.

Thank you for helping me write everything up until now but I’m starting a new page. One that is empty and ready to be scrawled upon, one that some of you may or may not be a part of, but ultimately one that will be decided not by guilt, shame, hurt or embarrassment but by each new cell that is me.


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