There’s somewhat of a flea inside of me that moves me. It’s jumpy and impulsive. And yet, I am afraid to give things my all. I know that with spiritual stuff it comes from my early training, my parent’s religion, what if I play with witchcraft and find out “the Devil” has led me here. My family warned me for years not to worship elephants or demons. Tarot cards are forbidden in their religion.

These taboos are in the fiber of a person raised in a belief system. For me to walk against it, and I have, takes a complete turning around and walking backward. For a time nothing feels right. It is like walking without instincts. With no sight or sound to guide you. It is a walk that is stronger than faith because with every step of the way the gods in your head are screaming your doom.

I went through a crossroad back in December 2002. My world ripped open, and my insides spilled out onto the ground. I gathered them up as well as I could. Tried to piece me together. I didn’t know if I was going to survive. Divorce is one of the most challenging times in a person’s life, and during the holidays it gets worse. Pain. Despair. Expectations. Smile and be happy. I hate holidays.

One thing I’ve learned is to do something because otherwise I will sit and analyze over a small decision. (Should I go to the store?) I used to check and recheck, examine everything when I was a Christian. I would second guess everything. Finally, I found relief from within me. My wisdom stopped me, and I realized, do it or don’t. It doesn’t matter. These were small decisions. But what about the more significant choices?

I trusted myself. I had to. There is a mighty force, as I mentioned, a tiny little flea that won’t stop jumping, which propels me. This energy is me. Like in the quote from James Joyce,

You have asked me what I would do and what I would not do. I will tell you what I will do and what I will not do. I will not serve that in which I no longer believe whether it call itself my home, my fatherland or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defence the only arms I allow myself to use — silence, exile, and cunning…

You made me confess the fears that I have. But I will tell you also what I do not fear. I do not fear to be alone or to be spurned for another or to leave whatever I have to go. And I am not afraid to make a mistake, even a great mistake, a lifelong mistake and perhaps as long as eternity too.