I was lying in bed this morning, procrastinating before getting up to face the day, and I realized: I'm happy now.
Oh, there's still stress, and worries, and frustrations, and I still get emotional flashbacks, but when I'm just sort of being, I feel glad to be alive.
It didn't used to be that way. All my life, I've kept myself busy, and when I didn't have something to do, I felt -- lost, sort of like I had been cast into utter darkness, not even in the same universe with anything human or natural. So I would desperately find something to do to, maybe to convince myself I was alive.
Transition seems to have changed all that. It's been slow -- I guess the inner transition is a lot slower and longer than the external one. But I no longer feel the need to flog myself to keep running, running, running. When I feel like I've "left undone things which we ought to have done," I no longer feel afraid; they just get put onto tomorrow's to-do list.
And sometimes I'm content to just be.
I'm still getting used to it....
