I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of death and rebirth.

Not the kind that ends a life, but the kind that creates one.

Over 33 years of living, I’ve died many times. To versions of me that no longer fit. To identities I outgrew. To beliefs that were never mine in the first place. And with every death came a rebirth, sometimes loud, sometimes quiet, but always… necessary.

That’s the truth most people forget:

You get to choose what kind of life you want to live.

And sometimes, the only way to get there — is to let the old one die.

These days, I see life like a movie.

And you get to pick the script.

You get to choose which character you’re going to play, and whether you stay stuck in the same scene — or walk off set and write a new one.

That’s the power we all have.

The power of choice.

But most people forget…

that staying small is also a choice.

That being stuck is also a decision.

And that endings? They’re not failures. They’re invitations. 

Because every ending holds a door.

And every death whispers, “There’s more.”

My Many Deaths

I’ve had so many.

At 16, I left the church — not out of rebellion, but out of honesty.

A quiet death of the version of me that stayed silent to belong.

At 17, my parents broke up.

I was forced to grow up and become emotionally self-reliant — too early, too fast.

I learned what it meant to raise yourself from the inside.

At 23, I got pregnant.

And with it came the death of the girl who thought she had time to figure things out.

In her place, a mother was born.

At 25, I gave birth again. And then I broke.

My heart shattered, and another version of me died.

The version who thought love would save her.

At 27, I let go of med school.

Of the dream everyone clapped for — but I no longer felt connected to.

And in that death came rock bottom.

At 28, I left my dad’s home.

Thinking I was chasing freedom.

Not knowing it would shake me to the core.

I died to comfort, and woke up to survival.

At 30, I flew to Australia.

I studied the subconscious mind. Sat with my shadows.

Unearthed the pain.

Died to my programming.

At 31, I became a leader. I started running retreats.

I stepped into rooms as the one who holds space — not just the one seeking it.

And in doing so, I buried the part of me that always needed someone to go first.

At 32, I left my full-time job.

Walked away from security to walk into sovereignty.

I chose to run the business I dreamed of — on my terms.

And now, at 33, I’m still dying.

Still choosing.

Still letting go of what’s no longer true.

Every version I’ve buried has brought me closer to the woman I am today.

And every time I thought it was “the end,”

the Universe showed me it was just the beginning.

It’s Not About the Goal Anymore

You think you’re chasing milestones.

The title. The love. The freedom. The launch. The success.

 But one day, you wake up and realise:

It was never about the goal.

It was always about the person you were becoming in the process.

And that’s the secret no one teaches you.

That the most delicious parts of life aren’t in the control.

They’re in the letting go.

When you finally surrender the timeline, the pressure, the old programming , you stop being a slave to the world…

and you start dancing with it.

Life Is a Dance of Death and Rebirth

Nothing is forever.

Pages turn.

Chapters close.

And you?

You are in constant evolution.

An eternal being in a human body — here to feel it all.

To cry.

To laugh.

To break.

To heal.

To become.

And when you stop fighting the changes,

when you stop trying to control the outcome —

you’ll see just how beautiful this game really is.

Because that’s what life is — a game.

Not of winning or losing, but of waking up to your own power.

And you get to decide which version of you plays.

Which side you stand on.

Which story you choose to tell next.

So yes, I’ve died many times.

And I’ll die again.

To patterns. To illusions. To layers I haven’t even uncovered yet.

But every time I do…

I come back softer.

Wiser.

More me.

And every time,

the Universe holds me.

Every time,

I rise again.

What a death.

What a life.

What a gift to feel it all.

— Libni