Embracing the Phoenix Within-Dealing with Change

I sip my chai looking out the window as the rain gently splashes down hitting the earth, hydrating the earth. Chai makes everything better but why the hell is it raining in summer? I wonder, but I don’t question it, because ‘Thank God’ for some respite from the heat. The trees sway, and the leaves fall. It isn’t fall, but for some reason it feels like all the seasons are all happening together. It’s windy, it’s hot, it’s chilly, it’s dry and it’s wet all at the same time. 

I think about how far I’ve come, from who I used to be. 

Truth be told, the last few years, and particularly since I became a first time Mom, I’ve felt over and over and over again, the grief that comes from shedding one’s old identity. Many life changes, and several heartbreaks in between, stacked upon the internal desire to grow, change, and meet my better self, has forced me to leave behind some crucial parts of myself, and question who I really want to be. 

The uncertainty that accompanies the days in between who you were and who you’re becoming, can be isolating, lonely, and painful. How do you explain to people around you that you’re actually in mourning over something they can’t see? Something you’ve probably never realized you’ve lost yourself?

Oh the sweet sweet gut wrenching nature of transformation. 

One must die, to be reborn. There is no other way. The phoenix can only emerge from the ashes. 

As I pour some more chai into my cup, (just one cup is never enough), it teaches me something. It shows me that the chai, that begins with just water, and then gets created from many different additions, each one bringing in a new texture, a new flavor, cannot go back to being just plain water no matter how hard you try. It’s a new thing now. The water is transformed. 

Imagine trying so desperately to remove the milk, extract the sugar, delete the ginger, backspace the lemon grass, ctrl alt delete the tea leaves – it’s entirely ridiculous and just cannot be done. 

Why then do we crave to go ‘back’ to who we used to be, when every ingredient, every boiling point, and every stir changes the very nature of us, and changes us for good?

The more we fight this newness of being, the harder it is to move forward. The tougher it is to change. 

The need to change comes from two circumstances – external changes that force you to leave behind who you were, and internal frustrations or yearnings that whisper to you over and over that you are meant to be someone new. I was, in a way, for a few years now, dealing with both at the same time. 

External circumstances that were forcing me out of my current reality and pushing me out of my old identity. Think pandemic, new baby, new body, new home, new business, new life. Happenings that left me no choice but to change. To acquaint myself with a new way of living and being. But there were also internal frustrations. Intangible reasons for wanting to change. Habits I needed to drop, ways of thinking I needed to change, and modes of being that weren’t serving me anymore.

But the empty space between who I was and who I was becoming has been full of discomfort. And I’ve hated  it. Who was I without that friendship that suddenly turned to dust? Without that business to define me? Without my pre-motherhood footloose and fancy free-ness ? So I started to fill this space up with scattered busyness because I simply couldn’t stand the grief of the death I was experiencing. 

I kept trying so desperately to skip over this crucial phase of change and would ultimately end up back at square one – in the space in between. 

Until I learnt to embrace the ashes. 

 “For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen: a gaseous nebula must collapse. So collapse. Crumble. This is not your destruction. This is your birth.” 

attributed to both Zoe Skylar and Nour Tagari

Death and Rebirth

I finally embraced the first and most profound stage of change – the cycle of death and rebirth. The phase that represents the transformation that occurs when something old, familiar, or outdated comes to an end, making way for something new and revitalizing to emerge. The shedding of the old and the release of what no longer serves us. 

It is a time of reflection, acceptance, and sometimes even grief, as we bid farewell to what once was. This phase can be both challenging and liberating, as we confront the fear of the unknown and embrace the uncertainties that lie ahead. It can be a very scary time, that involves a lot of letting go. 

Letting Go

Letting go of our old identity is the first step to change. The bloom of Spring comes after Fall. Shed, then bloom. 

I needed to say goodbye to my old self, and get my one firm foot out the doorway of my past. 

“And when all that was left was ashes, she would again clothe herself in flame. Rising from the dust of her past to rekindle the spark of her future. She was a Phoenix, her own salvation; rebirthed, renewed, resurrected.”

LaRhonda Toreson

 It came with staggered bits of realization – I didn’t need to go back to who I was. I really didn’t want to. I simply needed to embrace who I was becoming. And let go of everything I assumed I knew about myself.  

I was finally ready to step into the rebirth phase, open myself up to possibilities, with gratitude and grace, and enjoy this newness of being exactly who I was becoming. I was finally ready to smile about the ashes, to be grateful for the grief, and to remember that stars were born from combustions, and a phoenix was born from the ashes. 

And it was from this beautifully messy place, that I finally embraced the ever changing nature of this thing called change. 

“I’ve died a thousand deaths, each time reinventing myself brighter, stronger, and purer than before. From the midst of destruction, I became the creator of myself. From the midst of darkness, I became my own source of light.” 

Cristen Rodgers