The Writer. The Artist. The Healer.

The evolution of who I think I am has been remarkable. Five years ago it took all the gumption in my body to call myself a writer. The word almost tasted like ash on my tongue, and I felt so nervous that someone would call me out at any moment. Asking what I wrote and if I were published, as if there was credit or validation to be given by anyone other than myself.

The next iteration was artist. I owned all my mediums. I sing. I dance. I write. I speak. I paint. I play music. I accepted my spectrum of expertise within each medium and I nestled up to what it meant to be an artist. But that word also did not feel quite right. I was more than that but I was not sure what. Even in the lines of these beautiful words I write every day, the beauty was not in them. And every time someone made a remark on something I’d created I wanted to ask, “but how did it change you? Tell me.”

Today it dawned on me. I am a healer. It is a word, profession, purpose I would often attribute to a past life because the idea resonated so clearly within me. There is space in this word for me to grow into. For me to step fully into my healing. I do feel each step along the way has prepared me. Not to work, but literally has prepared me. Developing practices of self-care, learning or honor myself and my boundaries, trusting myself and my gifts. Seeing my gifts as a bridge to the work.

It is really that last bit that brought me here. I can’t get the idea off my mind about being a life(style) consultant. I am ready to own that, well…I am ready to be ready to own that.

The truth of one’s self is undeniable. It is constantly pulling you like a magnet to grow into it, to blossom towards it. When I breathe into what I know to be true there is a sense of peace there are not words enough to describe. Tears fall from my eyes and my entire body vibrates, humming at the most soothing frequency. And in that moment I know. I feel it with everything within me.

You gather the things you need and around you build a fortress of warmth. Support from others wrapped in the satin love for yourself. Affirm who you are, not the lies you once believed about yourself. Your shadow is not the truth of you. There is a reason they are most prominent at horizons–beginning and endings–and least visible when there is the most light.

Is healing my highest calling? I suppose time will tell. In many ways I always knew I would be in this moment. Recounting the conversation I had with God after my accident, saying clearly I was not yet done and I was needed. Knowing my light is white light with a golden core. Knowing my hands shake my clairvoyance my sense of energy. Surely I knew. But perhaps the words we use to describe ourselves are always aspirational until they are not. Until we have outgrown them and found new vision for the new version.

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