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doors


doors.

Life is like a series of doors and hallways leading towards, away from, and in between the rooms they guard. I've heard all of the analogies that say :

when one door closes, another opens

every closed door has helped make you into who you are

you suppose that you are the lock...but you are the key 

 love opens the doors into everything*

but, honestly, doors intimidate me. What awaits me behind them? Are they entryways into rooms where I am at ease? filled with objects that support who I am? where I am comfortable to walk in my own skin? I have walked through a variety of doors in my lifetime. Some were perfect for that time, some were wrong from the start, and others were like Cinderella's stepsisters trying to force that beautiful slipper that brought the promise of a different (better?) life onto feet that were created for a separate path. I wanted that room. I thought that I needed that room. Life though, she had another plan for me but that didn't extinguish the pain of that slipper's room's rejection.

And therein lies my truth.

Doors, or the shutting of them, equal rejection.

For the past two years, I've been in this kind of limbo, an in-between of sorts, the hallway between my past rooms and my future ones. And while I would like to think that it has been a peaceful one, a smooth transition, if I'm being honest, it has been anything but! I am floating in and out of future ones, content to browse my way through, observing, joining in occasionally, only too happy to wander back out, never fully committing to any of them. Behind me are my old doors. There are things in those rooms that are just not for me anymore. They are a part of what shaped me into the me that stands here now, but they no longer serve the me that is going forward. And that is okay. We all have those rooms - or should, if we are maturing.

But, there is something that keeps me tied to these rooms, that keeps me propping the doors open with my foot, never venturing inside anymore, but loitering nearby. Recognition from those still inside? An endorsement to move on? Maybe the acceptance that my insecurities are forever crying out for, that my leaving doesn't equate to my being less than? Fear that leaving these rooms means leaving those inside? Whatever it is, I can not stand here anymore, not one more minute. My wounded places are screaming for a release from this hell. It is said that you cannot heal in the same environments (rooms) that you were hurt in, so this is necessary.

Removing my foot from past doors and allowing them to close fully is necessary.
Walking down that hallway is necessary.
Entering these new rooms and being wholly invested is necessary.
I owe it to the rooms I'm leaving, to the ones I'm going into, and most of all, I owe it to myself.  Every fiber in my being knows this, and is applauding me as I walk out these steps.

It's time.

New doors await.
New life awaits.






one door, two doors, three doors, four
all behind in my search for more.
five doors, six doors, seven doors, eight
all ahead in my dream to create.
slb



*door quote authors, in order
Alexander Graham Bell
Joel Osteen
Rumi 
May Sarton







 
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