(I wrote this years ago, but find it interesting that I feel exactly the same right now. I guess it’s true that history really does repeat itself .)
I am sitting here.
Alone in the dark with only a small lamp to my left to illuminate the blank pages before me. It is 5:00 a.m.
I like to imagine that I am the only one awake for miles. That the rest of the world is asleep while I sit here with my thoughts.
The rain falls steadily outside my window. The monotonous drip drop, drip drop on the tin roof above my porch should be soothing. Comforting.
But it is not.
For I am not safe.
Safe from physical harm – yes. Safe from the wind and the cold and Dangers that may (or may not) lie outside the locked front door beside me. Safe from all the Dangers that one might see and feel and touch. No, my Fear is something deeper. Unseen. Untouched.
My fear is of Myself.
Why am I so uneasy? Unsatisfied? Why is this seemingly harmless life around me suddenly frightening? What changed? Who is this Stranger creeping her way into my home and into my heart and mind? Who is this woman emerging from the young girl whom I had just recently – finally – come to recognize? What are these feelings I’ve discovered living inside of me? Inside of me! All this time, where have They been?
Where They sitting there laughing hysterically at this young fool pretending to be someone she is not?
Or were They just waiting patiently? Patiently.
For me to be ready.
And what do I do now?
What do you do when you are torn between who you are . . . and who you are meant to be?
Are the Answers inside of me?
Were They neighbors to my Feelings?
Will I soon meet Them as well?
Are They, too, waiting? For Acceptance?