Shedding Skin

I sit here at the edge of myself looking over. Do I just step out and into the be-ing I have cultivated over the last year? Yes. It’s time.

I’ve shied away from sharing anything at all because I didn’t want to upset you. I didn’t want you to look at me with pity, or with the “that poor girl is lost” look. I’ve gotten those in supermarket aisles, school events, and even Starbucks.

“So Cristina, what are you doing now?”

“I’m in Yoga teacher training. I’m at the studio most days taking class or training.”


Which ends with a smirk on their face and the need to suck their teeth, but they have some grace.

“I do their social media, too.”


And then I kick myself for feeling like I have to justify my existence to people who don’t know how to hold space, reserve judgement, and extend grace.

I realize that I need to extend that to myself. I need to stop beating myself up for my knee-jerk-justification bouts. I’m still learning.

I love reading tarot for myself and others. I started when I was 15 or 16 and don’t know when, or how, or why I dropped it. I’ve picked it back up, and am so relieved that it’s like riding a bicycle (albeit a little rusty).

I love studying Buddhism, and practicing daily meditation. I love synchronicities. I love the moon. Oh, how I love the moon. I love living by the ebb and flow of her cycles, as I cycle. I love crystals and have them by my bed, in my living room, and on my little special table in the kitchen. I remember reading spell books as a kid, and loving that too. I remember the first yoga class I ever went to. My grandmother took me and I heard about chakras. I was maybe 10! She is such an inspiration to me, and I see now that her life has colored mine in ways I didn’t expect, or see coming.

I’ve come back to all of it and feel really good about it. I know what some in my circle would say, and I’m sorry if you feel I’ve disappointed you. I’m sorry if you feel that you didn’t pray enough for my soul. Trust me, it’s better than it’s ever been. No, I don’t go to church. I haven’t in months. I’m not angry, and nothing catastrophic happened. I just shifted and I am embracing it, finally and publicly.

Even as I write this, I think, who cares? Why do I have to say anything at all? Because my voice at this edge, and as I step over the threshold, matters just as much as the one that I’ve left behind me.

One thought on “Shedding Skin

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