I realized clearly this morning: I'm afraid.
I'm sort of on the border between my old life and a new one. Well, not on the border, exactly. The border seems to me to be a broad, uninhabitable strip between my dark lonely past and current life, and the sunny green fields of my future. I'm hovering just inside the old life, looking across at the life I've always dreamed of.
And I'm afraid. Even though I feel strongly that fear won't be needed in that sunny new life, that any trouble I might encounter there would still be something I could handle, I'm still huddled here in abject terror, refusing to move in any direction in case it's the wrong one.
On top of that, I'm afraid that I'll always be afraid, that I'll be condemned to stay in the shrivelled old dark life forever. Not only am I not doing any of the things that might allow me to move towards my new life, I'm also not doing the ordinary maintenance things that would keep me safe in the old one. It's as if I'm trying to force something other than me to decide what happens to me, even though it's obvious which life I should choose.
Fear, for me, has always been a form of protection. I shut down in times of trouble, afraid that my own answer will inevitably be the wrong one, and hoping that something or someone else will choose for me.
I'm beginning to think that it's that outlook in and of itself that's keeping me on this side of the barrier. It isn't possible to live the new life I can see just over there, while still holding to this outmoded "coping skill". Instead, I drag the old life onward with me, unable to just slip out of it and into the sun again.
I think I need help, having found that I am the problem.