Searching for Courage

We lie together in bed
Beside ourselves.
The only feeling between us
Is the iron-taste of loneliness.

A wise woman recognises that people who spend their teenage years transitioning from one culture, place or role, to another, may often find that their emotional growth is somehow caught in limbo at the age it was when transitioning first begun.

The challenge of choice is my mind's dilemma this month. Having spent the entirety of my adult years longing to be somewhere I am not, I now find myself faced with the decision to leave it. My emotions may have stalled with those of an eleven year old girl, terrified of losing her safety net and grieving for her home. My emotions may also be clutching the hand of a depressed and anxious sixteen year old, terrified by her peers and trying desperately to fend for herself in an unfamiliar and frightening place. Either way, I am no longer the child who can reasonably expect to feel like one. I am a young adult with a choice and the crippling fear I feel at the idea of flying away again is neither rational nor positive.

I cannot tell you how much I dread leaving; I cannot describe how terrified I am by the idea of transitioning once again; of saying goodbye to friends and hello to strangers, of fighting loneliness and sadness, alone, whilst burying the wishful thinking of being in a world that carries on without you, miles and miles away; like a lover on whom you have turned your back. I can only tell you that, at night, in the darkness, my insides clench tightly and the fear and grief of a lost little girl lies beside me in bed.

Giving Up or Growing Up?

I was recently given a lucky opportunity to chase a career… the generic way. I have yet to turn it down so it remains a possibility, and I ponder it over daily. The strongest argument in favour of this wintry 9-5 is that, unless your C.V. carries the experience to justify your opinions, you are simply over opinionated. A second factor is the promise of experience, of challenges, and of belonging in a world where I can truly relax; of voting, objecting, living and doing without compromising myself or doing so on others terms.

One of my biggest fears is of losing my identity; I fear merging into the crowd of commuters on a gray weekday morning, my clothes nothing but alternate sizes to the ones marching in front, my goals the same as my journey’s partner, who coldly edges away in case the corners of our identical coats should brush.

But I look at the big people, the successes, the voices, the ones who challenge the status quo with inspirational change, the men and women I most want to be like, and I suspect they probably did time in a concrete office, twins with the world of Non, and feared it too.

It is not so very bad to merge with the norm at times. And the ability to do so demonstrates the self-awareness and maturity to live in Non and not become a part of it. I jump in, eyes tightly shut, and hope I have what it takes.