|Source: Dylan Guest Art|
I've been thinking hard, in some deep places, in my background processes. There are hard times ahead. The world is about to fall apart. I am about to permanently change the lives of everyone in my family.
I will lose a lot in the processes. I hope to rediscover lost parts of myself, and build new ones of only happy and strong parts, that will make a framework for the rest of my life and every relationship I'll have from now on.
I am scared. Shitless.
The only greater fear I have is that of nothing changing, of staying trapped in this unhappy place, which is not awful, and has become comfortable. But is not happy.
So I know I must get myself out. And despite the overwhelming fear of this, I know it's only temporary. Or I am beginning to know. I can feel the solidity and purity of that kernel of a new beginning. And what sweetens it is love.
Love. From friends, for and from the children, and of myself. Love to be felt and shared in days and nights yet to come that I can't even imagine except in after-school-special caricatures of what a real life of contentment and fulfillment and building something together with people might be.
I feel this undeniably beneath the despair: quiet, still, and patient beneath a hulking grotesque inflated mass, mostly transparent but still huge and formidable and terrifying. That mass is called Fear.
Fear must be dealt with.
I don't know how to do this. I will fall apart. I know I'll misstep and have to retrace my path, berating myself over lost time and wasted effort. I will screw this up over and over again before getting it right.
So be it. This is the process of emerging. This is how I love myself and, ultimately, my family, including my wife: by becoming the very best human being I can be, the man I was born to become. There may be dark days but I will find the light.