A door that could not be closed again

A few months after my return from France, I started drafting the outline of this book, thus completing the manuscript I had already written. Yet, I was not sure.

During this period, I met an old university friend. Jumanah was her name. I gave her the first part of the story I had written in the 1970s, now typed up, and asked her for her opinion. I needed validation and confidence. I added that there was a more recent sequel to this true story without giving her any further details. Two days later, she returned the draft. As she could see I was anxious to know how she found it, she said:

"The impression I get from reading your story is that you were being led and reacting all the time." Noticing my sudden disarray and inability to string words together, she added while planting a big kiss on my cheek:

"You write beautifully, I must say."

Jumanah's comment that I was being led all along jolted me; it struck a chord. Was I merely reacting all the time? Is this how others could perceive me? I thought differently of myself. I was always proud. Perhaps a small hero.

During the days that followed, I felt overwhelmed and helpless. I went through the manuscript again. I discovered that Jumanah was right.

Then I thought of different episodes of my life. I realized I often lacked resolve in key situations. Though I was doing well professionally, it felt more like coincidence than planning. Deep inside, I felt I had lost control many times.

Jumanah's words played in my mind. They opened a door that could not be closed again. It was a transformative experience.