The Art of Beginning Again (For the 47th Time)

Reinvention: now with more grace and fewer grand gestures

Fridays are for the softer stuff: the lessons, the stumbles, the small victories, and the moments that remind me I’m still here, still trying, still becoming.

The skill of a Phoenix

If there’s one thing I’ve become very familiar with in this life, it’s the art of starting over. I’ve begun again so many times that I should probably list “phoenix” as a skill on my resume (this time it will include flying :)). But here’s the thing I wasn’t prepared for this last time: beginning again is not anywhere near glamorous and this last time, at age 47, it started as a scorched earth round of decisions over the course of three years. It was an incredibly painful experience.

Nope, interestingly no montage with inspirational music. It was messy, full of tears, humbling, and I often felt like being a humiliated ping‑pong ball in a dryer.

But it’s also a sacred undertaking. It’s no small thing to embrace radical authenticity so the true self can rise from the ashes.

Standing in the Rubble

Many talk about reinvention like it’s a choice, but I found that it is sometimes just about surviving. This past time, the life I built collapsed beneath me by my own sledgehammer. I was left standing in the rubble with nothing but my stubborn heartbeat and the faintest whisper of hope.

It took a long time, but I outgrew a version of myself that I fought to become. I woke up only to realize the story I was living wasn’t mine; it was a version of me that The False Gospel of Right-Wing Evangelicalism created.

Beginning again meant that I had to admit that I deserved a life that feels like mine — not one that was handed to me, expected of me, or tolerated by myself and my church “home”.

Choosing Curiosity Over Certainty

To begin again I had to choose curiosity over certainty. To accept that it’s ok to change my mind, my beliefs, and goals in life. As a matter of survival, I chose compassion over self‑punishment. I chose movement over stagnation.

I fought for and am still fighting for life; not letting it run over me.

And yes, it’s exhausting. But it’s also evidence that I am still alive enough to try.

While I am still learning and growing, I know this version of myself isn’t fully realized right now. I just know he’s closer to the truth than the last one. And that’s enough reason to keep going.

If you want something a little bolder, a little funnier, and a lot more vulnerable, join me tomorrow for Sexplorer — where I talk about intimacy, desire, and the joy of rediscovering my body.


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