"I need to heal", you say. "I must find a safe, cozy place at this point in my life where I can dig out all these slivers in my head, sort through my personality deficiencies, and transform. This time for real."
You will not find it. The God you pray to won't give you one.
Your cozy cave doesn't exist.
You will build it around yourself.
Once it is constructed you will be safe for the therapy that you have longed for to begin.
Oh how you have desired to become a person of substance and form and to feel solid, but solid is not what you become at first.
Instead you become soft like mush. Of course you are.
You are turning inside out, but this is not what you expected so it would be easier to believe you are defective.
Out of the mush strange forms emerge.
They feel repulsive and so you revert back and the mushy self continues like a cup of chowder.
The process has begun though, and the new forms come back,
Slowly to be embraced by you and the safe ones inside your home.
There is a problem however.
Your place of protection is also a prison chamber.
As it has protected you from the cruel world so has it protected it from you.
If you are to complete your transformation and be saved, two things must happen.
1)You must escape the incarceration that your cozy home has become.
2)While this escape is beyond your ability at this time, no assistance can be given.
Not even from mommy.
When the time is right you must break the egg.
The cacoon must barely lose the fight for your life.