I know my terror and sense of free floating angst is a natural part of my transition and that nothing is wrong. I know I can start slowly with small blocks of creative play, as little as ten minutes. I know to let myself moodle with paints and words until something small emerges, and to tend that with love and non-judgment... And you know what else I know? I want to be rescued.
I want to have a lightening bolt of assurance land in my head from the clouds... assurance that everything will turn out to be OK. That there is a thing called perfect husband and there is another thing called perfect job and all I would need to do is try hard since the time I wake up every morning and leave it all to Allah just before I fall asleep every night.
It's so easy to overlook great people around you. People who have a mound of problems and people who are desperate, and yet kind. People who create, who inspire; who make you want to love life. I need one of those few people to remind me again. I need to be reassured again.
Only I wouldn't listen. Because when we have vanquished the many demons that stood between us and our renewed life, when we feel almost home free, the mother of all demons pops up: the someone-would-tell-me-what-to-do demon. The just-give-me-direction-and-make-me-safe-demon. The I'll-do-anything-just-so-I-don't-have-to-hang-out-in-the-not-knowing-anymore-demon. If you, like me, would also like to be friends with the last demon try one of these ideas:
- Use any and all means to turn within and listen to your own desires, your own wisdom, your own ideas.
- Pour over your journals and look for clues to what you want.
- Pray for guidance.
- Ask yourself many times a day, "What would I love to do next?" Gently stop yourself every time you go to watch TV, buy a new book, paint, or ask a friend what you should do- even if it's as small as what to wear to class.
