Obituary for a Former Self

Today, we honor the life of a version of Olivia who lived within limits she believed she was meant to carry.

She held tightly to thoughts and beliefs that, while well-intended, quietly shaped the boundaries of her world.

She searched outward for meaning, clarity, and confirmation—never fully realizing she had access all along to what was deeply embedded within her.

In her innocence, she often longed for a life she was already embodying, not yet able to see her own fullness.

She carried a quiet fear of not living up to her fullest potential… of not fully remembering her own power and truest expression.

And still, she continued—choosing, again and again, to live within a version of herself that felt smaller than what she sensed was possible.

Not because she lacked strength, but because she believed, in some way, that this was what was being asked of her.

I honor her for that—deeply.

For her willingness to hold back more than she needed to…

To accept limitation in service of something larger…

To give of herself, even when it meant becoming less of herself in the process.

And today, with deep gratitude and no regret, I gently release her. 💗

For a long time, I believed I needed to do something in order to become what I already was. Can you relate?

I thought if I worked hard enough, tried enough things, or followed the right practices, I would eventually arrive at some deeper level of connection or understanding.

So I searched. A lot.

I explored different pathways, different tools, different ways of “getting there”—often building quiet expectations around what each new thing might unlock for me.

And when it didn’t quite land the way I hoped, I moved on to the next idea… the next method… the next possibility.

Looking back, I can see how much of that search was directed outward.

Not because I didn’t trust myself—but because I hadn’t yet fully realized that everything I was looking for was already within me.

Over time, that pattern created a subtle kind of dependence… a belief that something outside of me would eventually lead me to the realization I was seeking.

And the truth is, all of it came from a genuine place.

I wasn’t forcing it. I wasn’t pretending. I truly wanted to understand, to connect, to experience something deeper.

Even when I began to recognize that I already had access to what I was searching for, I still held myself back.

I told myself it must be about timing… or readiness… or something beyond my control.

And in doing that, I continued—quietly, almost without realizing it—to place my power just outside of myself.

And despite all of this… I am deeply, deeply grateful for her.

I’m grateful for her commitment to the journey—no matter what it asked of her. Even when it meant outgrowing friendships, relationships, and opportunities that no longer aligned with who she was becoming.

I’m grateful for her unwavering faith. Not just in herself, but in something larger… something that felt set in motion long before she could fully understand it.

I’m grateful for her curiosity—for the way she kept asking, exploring, and opening doors that led her into deeper insight, deeper connection, and deeper remembrance.

She taught me that hope always finds a way to rise, even in the darkest moments.

She taught me that there is a kind of purpose woven into timing… even when it doesn’t make sense in the moment.

And maybe most importantly, she taught me—quietly and humbly—how to choose myself. Again and again.

Because of her, I no longer carry the fear that I might live a life defined by smallness… never fully realizing what I am capable of.

I no longer lean on “maybe,” “if,” or “when” as a way to delay what I already know to be true.

I am choosing, now, to stand in the fullness of who I am—

not someday, not eventually, but here.

As I am.

And as I continue to become.

Maybe this isn’t just my story.

I think many of us spend time living inside versions of ourselves that once made sense… until they don’t.

Letting go doesn’t always look dramatic.

Sometimes it’s quiet.

Sometimes it’s a shift in perspective… a soft recognition that something no longer fits the way it once did.

And when that moment comes, we’re given a choice—

to keep carrying what no longer belongs to us,

or to gently set it down.

This is me, honoring my former self with gratitude and love—no longer waiting to become what I already am.

And so it is.