Recently, I’ve been working through some pretty heavy stuff. Through a series of events, I realized all this inner work has brought about the death of my Survivor. The one who knew I could heal myself and didn’t accept anything less. The one who got up every day and did what needed to be done. The one who made sure I had what I needed. The one who kept me alive when I just wanted to die. The one who made sure I had everything I needed, so I could just rest. The one who did all the research to fix the next problem, the next step in my healing, the next thing to keep our family business thriving. The Survivor who chanted our family mantra of “you just pull yourself up by your bootstraps, that’s how!”

The Survivor has served me so well. Kept me moving forward as I climbed out of the hole of illness, abuse, loneliness, neglect and depression. She took care of the laundry, bathing, cooking, dressing, feeding the dog and all the mundane things well people take for granted. She kept me safe while I healed. I see her, in all her protective and loving glory. Maybe it’s not time for her to die, maybe it’s just time for her to rest. I think she has done her fair share and can go to sleep for awhile.

But now, the Thriver is here. She is healed and moving into her purpose. She is safe and has what she needs. She will grow where she is planted and draw her nutrients from the earth and the silence all around. She is here to bring joy and healing to the world. She is the one to move forward now and stand in her own skin, unashamed, free to express with an open heart so love can flow freely through her. She is a conduit for the Universe and God and there is no need to fight anymore.

The time of survival is over.
The time of thriving is now.