Grasping for being in shed skin

This journey of the funeral and the rebirth has been a long time coming and I really thought it was something that would come to a conclusion with the photo shoots and finishing the book. I was wrong.

Yesterday, it all came to a head.  Fifty-four years of life came crashing in on me like the turbulent, gray sea did when Shannon shot the funeral.  A well of emotions overcame me like the feeling of peace I had when the sun rose on my back and the water kissed my body during the rebirth shoot.

I stood before the mirror and asked myself, “what now?”  I had no answer.  The old feelings of inadequacy, fear, and self-loathing began to creep back under my skin.  That woman I shed on a stormy August day was calling out to me.  She’s the only side of myself I’ve ever known.  The more subtle coaxing from the woman that was baptized and reborn in a calm, warm pool of water struggled to find purpose.  The internal battle to embrace a new path in life drained me of everything I had left after this journey.

Then, I looked at my manuscript and the title jumped out at me.  Rejecting 18 Square Feet, the average amount of flesh on the human body.  The woman I shed cannot crawl under my skin, I left it among the waves, boulders, and sand along with the words from my first book, Manifesto of a Menopausal Woman.  I threw the burning remnants into the water and the sea brought it back to me, with only a few words that survived the burning:

“concept of being…now, woman, I have become immortality and in return, touch my soul.”

That is all.