Walking through a city park torn up by a fierce storm the other day, the metaphor was not lost on me. Huge trees lay splintered
Tag: #transitions
Almost one month sober
4:39 seems to be the hour. Anxiety wakes me and assures me that if I check email there will be something waiting for me there, for sure. Nothing. Oh, no, did I say email? I meant LinkedIn. Ok, let’s go. Nothing there either, of course. Except maybe there is something: a thought of warning.
The Sound of Silence
I wish I had lanterns to go out with, looking for myself, as Emily Dickinson was claiming to have. I look for lanterns in books, in podcasts, in new learning. In the few conversations I have with the few people who only listen, making no attempts to fix, pity or push me. The fog remains. And with it, the threat.
From Denmark, back to Romania: continuing the journey of self-discovery.
Here we are again, back in a Romania we chose this time, a new house but same crowds, wiser (maybe … ), older (in more ways than one), at the beginning of yet another road. As friends of mine who know more than me have taught me, change happens instantaneously and transition takes a long time, so that is where my family and I are now.
Transition: a quest for safe spaces and “our people.”
There is no way to understand whether a space or a person is safe except venturing, risking a small part of your story with them, all the time aware that you can be embraced or you can be pushed away.
What’s transitions support got to do with it?
Little by little I understood why it all felt overwhelming, I realized how we are all connected and how there is no each one of us. There is just us. I was mad, I cried, I remembered and I … exhaled.
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