The Prologue to my NaNoWriMo creation ...

I’ve always feared closed doors.

I’ve never shared this with anyone before. I mean, seriously – how would something like this EVER fit naturally into the flow of conversation? In amongst the ‘real’ fears of life like Spiders or Snakes or Heights or Death … CLOSED DOORS doesn’t really rank. Even a fear of Clowns is more respectable and comprehensible than a closed door for goodness sakes.

It’s safe to write that here though ~ no one is ever going to see it here. And truth be told, between the two of us – you are the one who likely knows exactly why this is such a fear for me. You who seem to have gone underground and hidden yourself so well that even I no longer really remember you at all. And yet, I know you’re in there somewhere – and my belief and trust in this fact alone is enough. For now.

I imagine myself on a therapist’s couch – discussing the whole ‘door’ issue. Therapists mean well, don’t they? It’s just – they’re human … and humans have a propensity to immediately try to catalogue and categorize and sort information upon hearing it. Information has to ‘fit’ somewhere, it has to be processed – even if it has to be squished a little or crushed or wrinkled or re-shaped to fit the compartment its been slotted to.

And from there, beliefs sometimes spring – from which flow thoughts, actions and reactions that forget they birthed from a warped or distorted belief in the first place because the seed was placed in a holder of someone’s choosing rather than the place it truly belonged; in the open, for evaluation and assessment and rejection or acceptance.

I guess I feel I know all the different reasons people will tell me about why I fear closed doors.  “You are afraid of the unknown – you aren’t comfortable entering into anything where you can’t clearly see the outcome in advance.” 

I know that’s not it.  I mean, yeah, for sure there are times when I wish I could see into the future so I’d feel more comfortable with the decisions I make now in the present. But I’m not really afraid to venture into the unknown. On some level, I do understand that the unknown holds vast potential – opportunities I may not be able to imagine on my own but will fully recognize when they show up.

I’m not afraid of stretching my comfort zone and pioneering new territory. Gosh, if I were – I’d never have started writing in this Journal in the first place. I’ve taken to heart the wisdom and advice I’ve discovered in the books I’ve read lately. I’m throwing caution to the wind and have consciously decided that Spirituality is a concept worth pursuing – as confusing and illogical as many of its teachings can be. I’m willing to ‘be still’, to ‘sit in the silence’ and to ‘listen to whatever speaks to me’ while I’m there.

In fact, that’s what got me to this moment in time right now. As I ‘sat in the silence’, trying not to think about how strange I must look, trying to forget that I was really hoping no one would walk into the room and find me there …

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were in here,” they’d say.

“That’s okay”, I’d reply.

“What are you doing?” they’d ask.

“I’m sitting in the quiet. Being still. Listening to hear if anything bubbles up.”

“Oh,” they’d warily respond, “do you want to be alone?”

“That’s probably best,” I’d gratefully whisper, “I tend not to be very quiet when someone else is here.”

… wishing that I had a clue as to what I was doing – I suddenly thought, “I need to buy a Journal and write to my Self.”

The thought surprised me as it seemingly came out of nowhere. I’ve never really seen the point of keeping a Journal or a Diary before – I mean, the purpose of this activity is to document your private thoughts and feelings about aspects of your day, year or life. But to what end? I mean, who are all these people actually writing to?

“They’re not writing to anyone” a friend once told me – “they’re simply putting their thoughts and feelings on paper so they can look at them differently – from the outside, rather than from the turmoil that can sometimes swirl within.”

I’ve never bought into this though – the entire concept is polluted with flaws. For instance, there is always the chance that your Journal or Diary is going to be found by someone. And people being the curious creatures that they are, will likely say something to the effect of, “Hey look – it’s so-and-so’s Diary, let’s see what she’s put in there!”

Knowing this possibility exists – what’s to prevent me from putting what I’d want people to read into my Journal/Diary rather than the whole truth as I feel it exists – because if others read the whole truth as I feel it to be, I’d never recover from the shame and humiliation – and then I’d have to move and start my whole life anew, far away from those who’ve got me pigeon-holed as something else completely, someone I’m really not at all, someone I’m no longer feeling connected to and really tired of supporting and putting energy behind.

The instant I ‘said’ this in my head, I saw the image of a closed door. And I knew that if I ever hoped to move beyond this fear I’ve been carrying for decades – that I’d be best starting with the purchase of a Journal, and that I would be writing to someone specific – someone I’ve neglected for far too long. Someone who speaks to me in the silence and leads me to thoughts and feelings that need to be addressed – but that take me by surprise none-the-less. Someone specific like me – the real me, the one that I really want to get to know, the only one I now truly desire to be.

So here I sit, writing to my Self.  Writing as the ‘me’ everyone thinks I am but who I’m growing weary of because I have been disconnected too long from the ‘me’ that I am now writing to – the ‘me’ whose truths could never be as shameful and humiliating as I’ve somehow believed them to be.

I am writing to my Self – because in a dream long ago, I opened a closed door and saw a distorted version of myself already there, and I mistakenly believed that this distortion was who I really was – and so I quickly stepped back and shut the door again. And I’ve been out there, closed off from the distortion, ever since.