I hate transitions. They have bothered me my whole life. I have never longed for travel as I do not like to change environments often. I know when I need to get away from the mundane repetitive world I live in, but then I long to return to the comfort of what I know. I will never be worldly and I accept that.
The process of transitioning bothers me in the morning when I wake and leave the comfort of my bed to take the often painful first steps of the day. As a child, I would hide under the covers, not to play hide and seek, but just to hide. I do not like the first paces into my work environment and it takes a few minutes to find the surroundings safe. Once in place, the day passes without me being aware of the changes. But my body does. I find that by the end of the day, I am in knots even when the day has been pleasant and stress free. The cause is unknown in my conscious awareness, but my mind can read it. And when I return to my home of over ten years, I need time to assimilate back into the environment again. For many years I was not aware of all this information and stimulation, but it was destroying my health. Now I am know about it, but cannot completely control it, yet.
I do not like to go to new locations. I hate crowds. It takes effort for me to attend functions I am not familiar with. Some would say that I enjoy isolation, and that is not true. I have been told I am afraid of everything, and that too is not true. I just do not like to be uncomfortable. I am overtly aware of loud sounds and brilliant light and the assault on my senses is something I prefer to avoid. I can control to some extent where I go and what I do. My sanctuary is in nature, like my garden. I have little fear in the woods or on water. The River gives me comfort and she is ever changing her moods.
There are other transitions that hurt more than the physical reactions to the environment. Losing someone to the ultimate thief of death is extremely painful as there is no recourse for those left behind. I do not think we ever get over losing loved ones like children and family. The transition of divorce is like falling down a stair case in slow motion. You keep waiting to hit bottom. The transition of aging is agony for many. The helpless feeling of tumbling slowly towards the end of life is inevitable and it catches me often if I allow it. The loss of youth and beauty destroys confidence. The fleeting moments of power these physical attributes had slip through our fingers like sand. We turn a blind eye to the ripeness and gentle beauty that life engraves like a fine patina.
I am in transition right now and it is ripping my heart out. I am scared and unsure of where I am transitioning to, but I know I am to go alone. I cannot determine my destination. The unknown terrifies me but it is reaching for me. Like the child who boards the school bus for the first day, the fear is real and excruciating. I do not want to let go my hand. But I must.


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