Fear Of Falling

Snow. Ice. Eye watering wind. Dazzling low sunlight. The fear of falling. The joy of woolly hats, mittens, cowls and snoods! Five weeks until Christmas. Flowers in a vase on the table, given to me by my colleagues when we parted on Wednesday, and a box of chocolates, only one or two remaining now. Leaving there, having handed over my keys, and collected the toys and figures that were mine - witch, wizard and dragon, incredible hulk, and lots of animals, wooden buildings and superheroes, I suddenly did not belong. Sitting drinking tea with four colleagues, I felt part of something, included. Walking across the road and getting into my car, driving home and bringing inside the flowers, chocolates, the figures, and all the shopping I'd bought on the way, I was no longer included, no longer belonged. Such an abrupt transition. I fell into the dark for a while.

There is a very small girl in me who is unable to hold the relativity of these kinds of changes and transitions, who interprets endings as 'the end' and a real threat to her well-being and ongoing sense of coherent self. She is frightened, she panics and despairs. It's my job to help her with that. I'm not saying all the pain and loss are in the past - there is present pain, loss and disappointment as well as anger and confusion about this job. But my competent adult self knows she can manage these, and that life will always bring another day, another change in the light, another beginning, another job. Until the final change, of course, and then there will always be someone else whose lot is to live through the endless change that is human existence.