Continuing with my story, that Monday morning in Michigan found me sitting in my room, afraid of what was to come. The first step was to leave the room to register. By myself.
I don’t want to try too hard. I want to be comfortable in my skin, body, clothes, life.
I’m still amazed that this is where I am 8 years after picking up The Wounded Heart for the first time.
Looking out the window of my room, I see people walking by with bright yellow boxes and books. Registration is coming. Get ready.
Just do it.
Open the door and walk out.
You can do this.
I did it!
I’m fully registered with packet in hand.
Confused feelings surface.
What are they?
Will I figure them out?
Find safety in speaking them?
Will I belong?