Excerpt: The Art of Finding Me

Easy enough. Sounded better than what I was doing. Sitting. Frozen, paralyzed with fear, pain and worry and panic attacks. I hate change. I still hate change but my edges aren't as rough and when I walk through the narrow door to change I slide through with more ease than before. Back then change was the enemy. Change meant horrible things were going to happen. I didn't know that change could also go towards something better. Forward. Not further down into the tunnel of hell. Forward. Towards daylight. Towards life. Finally, I was ready to shed my skin like a snake and slither off into the unknown.