I had to get uncomfortable first

Some people, I suppose, are virtuous. They begin their metamorphosis purely from desire born of altruistic joy. I did it differently. You see, although I was unhappy—-because those who are trying desperately to fit into a ill fitting box generally are—-I wasn’t miserable. I had days of “good”. I had moments of laughter. From the outside in, I did have a lot of things going for me and had followed the “normal” path. Good upbringing, college education, training in music and the arts, solid health, married, with a newborn healthy baby, normal job. Honestly, it was the “good” ness of all of this that had me confused at heart—-because in the moments. of silence I could feel a void. In the quiet parts, when all activity would cease, I could hear deep in my heart the whisper, “there’s more than this—there has to be more.” I could feel a pulling forward like a current within me. But the void, quiet whispers and gentle pull wasn’t enough for me to risk the “good”—-and I’d generally interrupt the calling with some good old judgment somewhere along the lines of, “what’s wrong with you—-your life is pretty freaking great. Just be grateful. You are fine. Everything is fine.” The whispers would cease and life would continue on it’s default trajectory.

Oh, no, reader—-my metamorphosis wasn’t born of joy. My change came from a drastic, dark turn.