in the midst of metamorphosis

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 e...

The area reverberated with gunshots. Shell casings littered the floor. In the far corner, I felt trapped. Too many people lined the narrow room, preventing my escape. I wanted out. I needed out. I couldn't breathe. Uncontrollable fear was pushing its way to the surface. The room was cold. I was sweating. Tears were threatening to fall but I knew that that would be the action that would cause the dam to break. The tiny shred of control that I had would then be lost and chaos would ensue. I knew what was happening. I knew that I was in the grip of a panic attack. I just didn't know why. and at that moment, I didn't care why. I knew that I had to restrain these feelings, compose myself. Long minutes passed by while the rest of my class continued with their target practice. By the time my turn came, I was collected enough to shoot again. I had elected to participate in this gun safety course. I own a gun. I had shot guns before. So, why was this happening now? A...

The first time. It was not what I expected. I mean, if anyone really has an expectation of what it might be like. I was aware that the day would come. I was naive, but I also saw the signs. It was a progression of events. Events leading up to that time. The first time. So many feelings, so many emotions rushing through me. Disbelief. Mistrust. Sadness. Anger. Defeat. Brokenness. Had that really just happened? Did the man I love just hit me?  The first time. It was just the first of many more times. Always with the same results. I apologized. I changed. I took responsibility. He felt justified. The first time. Today's Sherri would love to go back to that day and tell that Sherri, "You are smart, and beautiful, and worthy. You deserve to be treated as such. You cannot save him. You can only save yourself. Believe in yourself. Love yourself. Walk away now . This will not be the only time, this will just be  the first time ." *****************************...