This leads me to thinking about the many signs that we are shown in life.

The path of life is sprinkled with so many different notices: go left, go right, straight, back, u turn, dead end, bridge, highway, cross roads, narrow road, and on they go.

Often I can give thanks for the signs that come my way, but every now and again, I miss the sign because of some distraction and find I am on a road that I do not want to be on. Worse still if there’s no way of turning back. The anxious panicky feeling of knowing you might be on this road a long time and God help me if I run out of fuel!

This is when I’m likely to curse or cry. I often land up laughing, a wonderful stress release, sometimes I cry or curse. Many times I cry, laugh and curse at the same time!

My journey in life has come to a mighty crossroad, being of a Libran slant, I have debated and pondered and thought out the pros and cons of each road, the economic advantage and wondered how good they might be. How right or practical till the roads have become a dizzy wheel of lines and signs!

I feel like I’m the ball on a roulette wheel and soon the wheel will stop. I panic wondering if I will land on the right number where the chips were stacked and the bet is the most. Or will it be nothing? Nothing is almost too much to cope with.

What if the number of that road ends up as a dead end or in a desert? They say if life gives you lemons you could make lemonade. But what can I make out of sand! This debate has caused “me grains!”

The act of balancing all the options has created unbalance, if only I were in a helicopter and could see where each road lead. Maybe none of them lead anywhere and it is totally up to me to decide. Maybe they’re all dead ends?

But just maybe they never end and the whole choice is about the journey?

Maybe life’s journey is what we make of it, -- god that’s hectic -- suddenly being responsible for all that happens to oneself and no one to blame. Hell that’s scary!

It’s so much easier to blame someone for all the dysfunction. Blaming myself, of course not, hell man being a victim is so much more damn comfortable.

Facing this empty space inside, having no one to blame and no one to interact with, it’s so lonely. Wishing others could come back so we can feel normal again. We do this dysfunction so well.

This knot of anxiety and wondering if we will ever be able to relate to anyone in a normal way. It becomes a place to hide. Hiding is ok for awhile, it gives one space to breathe, and then it gets really uncomfortable, mainly because we are now faced with ourselves. All this time we thought we were really ok. It‘s rather amazing, we coped with so much abuse, so much suffering and we did it with a smile and a cheerful disposition. No one suspected our pain. We congratulated ourselves for this mask of deception. We hide our abusers and we hid ourselves and we forgot who we are and why we were here and where we were.

The abuser forgot I was human that I had feelings and a heart. In their comfort zone of numbness they moved on to places that gave them more stimulation and control. What we had is dead now, we lost the energy to react in a normal way. We hid ourselves, covering our pain with a mask of normalcy that killed my love for the abuser and myself. We floated in the motions of living.

Then all too quickly what we had focused on had arrived, the abuser was gone and we were lonely and devoid of purpose.

People say this place is wonderful. A new place of fun and newness and adventure. Oh god don’t they know it’s a death and we are part of that death and how the hell can we even think of life and living in this state of being a walking corpse!

Yes we need to go through this process because only when we do truly pass through this can we arrive and know that we are truly alive and ready for new adventures and fun.

So bear with me in this walk of death and hold my hand while I mourn my passing and don’t help me back on the road of the past but keep reminding me of where I am going.