Transition

I am in transition, and I am scared out of my mind.

I am sitting in an apartment with no furniture except a bed, the complete silence save crickets disquieting. I made a major move convincing myself that I wanted to move some place else, some place new and different. I stepped out of a comfort zone carved out of known misery and failure into a dark abyss of unknown possibilities. I only knew for sure that I had a job, that knowledge also briefly thrown into chaos before solidifying before my frightened eyes in the form of cleared background checks and paperwork.

It isn’t as though I haven’t done this before; every step I have taken in life has led me into deep waters where no one else would go. Yet this time (unlike the others that came before) I feel undone, not quite ready for the consequences of what I have done. My thoughts wobble, taking unfriendly dips into depressed places then just as quickly pulling me up into cloudy terrain right before another tailspin into fear and anxiety. I cannot tell where my courage has gone to. I live off memories of being fearless and sure of myself.

Perhaps it is my age? I am not far from 40, but the closer I get the more unstable everything feels. I vaguely remember this sickening motion when I turned 26 and realized that 30 sat looking at me on the horizon, and I’d not accomplished anything that I had intended to. The depression then was crushing. I barely moved at all unless my newborn baby needed me. I cried every day, all day, never sure when the tears would come or what the tears were for. I remember this moment in my life and I am afraid: did I make a mistake leaving the space where I at least had some bearings, knew what was coming?

Even as the thought rises, something in me puts it down like a rabid dog on the attack. I know that this moment is not that same horrifying dive into depression–the feeling is just similar, my stomach sick and jittery. In my heart, I know that I am in the right place at the right time. That even though the princes of this world have fought me mightily, I was made for a time such as this. I have pressed my way into a fissure and  pushed into the other side where everything I have dreamed of lies waiting in the dark. I yelled open sesame, and the universe opened up just enough for me to squeeze in, saying, “Come now, before it is too late. This is your chance.”

And yet even now I know that this will pass. I will survive, then thrive, then pull others up in my wake. I used to want a normal life. But when I look at all that I have experienced, I realize that normal has never been for me. My greatness lies in my strangeness, my willingness to skip blindly into dark places and deep waters.

So here I sit–in a silence that tries to overwhelm me with familiar sadness, the only sound crickets in the night and the neverending loop of my own voice reminding me that I belong here. That I am well able. That I just need to take one more step.

I am in transition, and I will be just fine.

1 Comment

  1. I hate the word “normal”. I don’t even believe there is such a thing. Maybe you can think of your new beginning as an adventure, with wondrous things waiting right around the corner. You just have to turn the corner. :0)

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