I can hardly believe that my book is finished. The writing process has taken me on quite a journey the past several years. The timing of its completion is utterly incredible and, of course, totally unplanned by me. I finished the very last draft almost exactly seven years after the initial call came to leave everything.
There were so many times that I just wanted to “be done with it.” It took so much time and energy and inner work that I often felt exhausted and overwhelmed. I wondered why it was taking me “so long.” After all, I had restructured my entire life to support my writing by taking on two part-time jobs that gave me flexible hours. They were fun, and I didn’t have to take any stress home. Yet I also got paid a whole lot less than I was worth. “Why,” I wondered, “am I doing this?” “Why have I sacrificed so much for this book?”
My soul knew. Every time someone asked me why I was writing the book, all I could say was, “Because I have to.” There was really no other choice. When something exists inside of you that you absolutely have to get out and share with the world, you will do almost anything to make it happen. At least, I will.
Any writer knows that the first draft is just the beginning. It took another month of editing full-time, up to 12 hours a day, draft after draft. Writing more, going deeper, connecting the dots. The self-editing process turned out to be my favorite part of the entire experience. For the first time, I understood what I was writing. I know, it sounds laughable to write an entire book before realizing its purpose.
It revealed itself to me. I often felt that the book was writing me just as much as I was writing the book. Each time I wanted to throw up my arms in frustration, it was because I hit another block within myself that had to be cleared. Every single one of my belief systems has come up for question. My habits, my thoughts, my patterns. Most of all, my fears.
The fear of using my voice. The fear that I would be killed or harmed or punished for sharing my truth. The fear that standing fully in my power as a woman would make me unlovable.
These fears were deeply ingrained in my body and psyche. It wasn’t until I had severe digestive issues this past winter that I began to look seriously at my past lives. My digestion seemed to get worse every single time I stood in my power or began to write. I just so happened to meet a woman who does past life regressions right around the same time. She led me into a hypnotic meditation, while I told myself that it wasn’t going to work.
Yet as soon as I “entered that door,” the entire left side of my body began to shake uncontrollably. My voice changed. I saw and felt things that filled my soul with knowledge and remembrance. In each lifetime, I was killed for my gifts as a woman. I’ll spare you the details. Here’s the important part. My guides promised me that I would not be killed in this lifetime for my power.
Right after that past-life regression, I wrote almost every single day and finished the book within four months. The biggest obstacle had been confronted. And you know what’s funny? Now I don’t care as much. Because my power can never actually be taken away. It can be forgotten, but I have remembered. They can’t kill me. My soul is eternal. And clearly, so is my message to the world.
© 2020 Jessica Falcon.