Oh, she had died before.

Like the time she gave her power away at the ripe age of 14, then had to face the whispers and rumors of judgy peers, and a cold shoulder of the boy she had trusted with her innocence.

Or that time when her once “high school sweetheart” told her that he couldn’t love her the way she wanted him to. Her plea that she was finally ready to settle down fell on deaf ears who had heard her cries before. But she swore this time was different.  Her tears falling on his bare chest, attached to a heart that had grown cold from her indecisiveness. His final exit that night actualizing the death of a 7-year “on again, off again” romance. 

She died when people she loved died or left without warning. Her body numbing when learning of their last breaths. Her stone-heart fissured when remembering past conversations, thoughts of missed opportunities and endings so finite. She often spiraled through bouts of depression, chugging down bottles ‘til empty and praying to the porcelain gods before dinner. Her soul feeling at home in dark places. 

She died in many beds to give her body to men who did not deserve it. That’s not a retrospective revelation either. She knew it then but didn’t care. She mastered suffocating her emotions…and faking it. Pretending she wanted to be there, but really just avoiding being alone with herself. Often high anyway… doing anything to stay out of her body so what did it really matter? 

She died a little bit each day she stayed with a man she shared with many other women. She didn’t have to know them by name to feel their presence in her marriage. She knew them well – by scent and availability. 

And even knowing all of that, she died to keep that marriage alive after she cheated because she felt guilty. Guilty that she found comfort for a moment with someone else. Guilty that she wasn’t enough to keep her marriage happy and healthy. She consented to things unthinkable to continue in a relationship that was supposed to be a reflection of love. And she really died the night he roughed her up in the closet. And again in the bedroom. And again in the kitchen. And again in the living room. 


So many years were a blur.

So much unidentifiable time.

Finding ways to exist and not exist simultaneously.

Time spent alone with people.

Stuck in her darkness.

Maybe she just kept finding ways to die…


But of all the times she had died in this lifetime, this last time was the most necessary. However… 

There was no memorable event, not like before.

No heartbreak, no pain, no loss of her personal power.

She could only describe it as a moment of clarity. Perhaps, a gift… from God? 


Oh, this last death…

It was the death of living for everyone else, instead of Herself. 

It was the death of listening to everything outside of Herself… searching for Life outside of Herself.

It was the death of feeling worthless, less than, not enough, and incomplete. 

It was the death of broken thought patterns that had her believing that she didn’t deserve more. 

It was the death of choices that did not expand her Light, raise her Consciousness, or ignite her Soul.

It was the death of the versions of her that could no longer exist within this time and space.

It was as if every other death she had experienced was leading her to a Rebirth.




And as for the Rebirth…

Ohh, it was the birth of her finally choosing herself. 

It was the birth of choosing to show up to a Life rich with Love if she would just allow Herself – to… be… Love. 

It was the birth of being the Light.

It was the birth of a whole new Life.


Maybe she had to die in order to become the reason to live. 

Maybe she had to die in order to not.


She had died a thousand times before for everyone else, to make herself fit into the boxes they had drawn for her to exist within. But it wasn’t until she finally died for herself that she could be reborn into the person she came here to be. 

Into the Woman who knows her worth. 

Into the Witch who sees through the illusions and confidently claims what’s hers. 

Into the Alchemist who turns every struggle into an opportunity and every desire into something real.

Into an Activator, here to shake shit up and be a part of the Great Awakening happening now on Earth. 

Into a Sovereign-being, no longer surviving as a victim but thriving as a fucking Goddess. 


Into a Light, for Herself, and others.  

After the storms there was always a rainbow wanting to usher her back home to her truest self. It was always there, but she hadn’t allowed herself to believe she was worthy of such a magical walk. 

She had to die a thousand deaths this lifetime in order to finally live as her Truth. 


I am a certified Spiritual & Life Coach. My mission is to Activate Women on their journey to becoming healthy, wealthy, and in love (with themselves).  My words are Art & Medicine. They are the tools I use to share who I am and what I am here to do in this lifetime. I use my voice to empower the Divine Feminine and inspire change because when she remembers how Magical she is and chooses to lean into joy, she will create a life that will support her as her truest and highest self. I use my words to help her to remember…and to forget.

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Published by Toni Moné

Toni Moné is a Writer and a certified Spiritual & Life Coach, with an interest in Human Design & Astrology. She is here to activate others,  shift perspectives, and tug at heartstrings. She continues to seek ways to combine her enthusiasm for writing with her passion for serving others, and has done this through her online column - Dear Sistar: My Love Letter to the Awakening Woman,  as well as through her creative writing. Her mission is to guide Women and support them as they awaken to their divine natures, learn to embrace their radical truths, express their unique dualities, and create their personal journeys to freedom.Connect wit Toni on IG: @tonishamone or email: conversationswithtoni@gmail.com

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