I walk into a box. It is too small for me. My shoulders brush the walls when I spin around. I can not make big movements. I have to shrink to fit and feel even slightly comfortable in this space.
I have been in the box for a while now. I adjust to the walls and the security they provide. The box may not be comfortable, but it’s predictable.
One day, the box feels less comfortable. Something has changed. I think the box is shrinking, or maybe I am growing.
Shrinking myself to fit inside the box becomes increasingly uncomfortable. I don’t want to do it anymore. I want to stretch my limbs and take up space.
The next day, when the wall pushes me I push back. This gives me space. I can take bigger breaths and make bigger movements. It feels good.
Weeks later, I push a different wall. I make more space and can move in different directions. I have a new perspective.
I keep pushing until one day the whole wall falls over. I didn’t even know that could happen. My small, regular pushes added up until nothing was left to push anymore.
I’ve outgrown the box. I make BIG movements and take BIG breaths. I take up LOTS of space. I am a water growing toy expanded!
All the walls fall. I can go wherever I want, but I worry. Maybe I should go back inside the box and fix the walls and shrink myself down to fit. Others will like that better. They’ve worked hard to build the box and keep me in there.
I walk back toward the box but going back inside worries me more. I worked hard to get out.
I decide to stay out.