Break, burst, or hang fire.

Transition is development. I try to remind myself of this when messes begin to loom, and I can't decide whether crumbling or exploding would be better for getting rid of the mass of knots in my stomach. Fortunately, I've made it to a stage in my life where at least one entire human being (although not very large) depends on me and everything I do. Remembering this truth usually reveals a third option for me: to grow.  

Growing is akward, It can make you feel hollow or scared. Sometimes it hurts, and the wonderful part of growing is rarely apparent until you've arrived on the other side of the moment. 

I've realized that transition is about decisions-- not quite making them, but owning them. The choices are made before the change. Thereafter, that often excruciating space between how things were and where we're going is precisely what we refer to as transition. It's what we walk into after taking a deep breath and leaving what's safe, what we've outgrown, what doesn't make sense anymore or what isn't willing or strong enough to transition with us.  

Sometimes it takes a while to get through it, but I have always exhaled. That sigh of relief when I make it to the other end is always an exhilarating reminder that I'm still alive. And I'm usually a little stronger, a little smarter and a little closer in resemblance to the version of me I ultimately want to be.  

It seems like I've been holding my breath for over a year now. Since panicking is literally the worst thing you can do when you're drowning, I've consciously avoided it. All I can really do is keep moving, go with the flow, try not to fight it and hope I end up in a place where my feet can touch the ground.  

At least the hold music is nice.  

xx.Bea.  

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