Throw me a rope

Nervous. Exposed brick walls. Original art. Foreign furniture, knick-knacks, smells. I sit. I struggle to keep my legs uncrossed. I grip my knees to hold still. Bells cling, swirling in a circle. His eyes are closed and a small, knowing smile plays at his mouth. I try not to laugh. This is ridiculous.

"You are very unsteady," he says. "You aren't trusting your intuition. Why is that?"

I am taken aback. Of course that is right, but I am not going to admit it. How does one answer a question like that anyway? "I don't know," I say.

He goes on to make observations both accurate and otherwise. My father sees that I am struggling and wants me to just move forward. He says that I keep wishing things will change, and every day I wake up and start the cycle over again. This second part, at least, I know is true. I hide. I make it through the day. I am worn out afterward and look forward to the oblivion of sleep. I find great happiness around me, but...

"Nothing you do brings you joy. What would bring you joy?" Again, a shrug. My mind reels. The feel of J. Running. Being with JBL. These are small outposts. Without them I swirl in...what? I shrug again. "I like to write," I reply softly.

Whether or not any of this is true, he has hit on pain points that are unique to me. Parts of myself that I look away from constantly. I keep my face intentionally blank. He continues.

"What are you afraid of? Is it money? You know money has always been there when you needed it." Also true.

"Is it him? He doesn't let you do what you want. You love adventure. He doesn't let you have adventure." The 'he' is presumably JBL, and on this point the Advisor is wildly off track. Do I tell him of my recent Christmas present - a trip to Tuscany? "No, he does not hold me back."

"But there is something there."

"Yeah. I guess. It's me."

He sits back, eyes narrowing, smile disappearing. "Ah."

I don't remember what he said for the next few minutes - I was so nervous in admitting to a complete stranger that I was holding myself apart from loved ones. From the most important person. I have an audio tape of the session, but I don't want to listen to it. I know we finished by talking about next steps - how to begin the process of moving forward. I silently cursed my friend who encouraged me to come. I thought it would be fun to prove the process wrong, to laugh about missed predictions and accurate platitudes. It was probably all still good reading of body language and cultural cues, but the whole thing was so spot-on, I felt vulnerable and shaky.

Walking out into the late-summer sun, I remember trying to decide if I would do anything with what I had just experienced. I did indeed chew on the insights for some time, sharing the observations with close friends, and even (for the most part) JBL. Then there was the tough transition when J left for Kindergarten, and the struggle to find the new normal.

Now I have a fluid routine and a set of priorities for the short term. I am aware I have the great luxury of time to figure out the next few years, and will actively create new goals and corresponding plans to achieve them. But I know I have still been hiding.

When I first met JBL I felt the shock of two huge feelings: that someone was seeing me for who I really am, down to the core, and that I liked the person they saw. I am sure that is what Big Love feels like for everyone, but this was off the charts. It's even too much to write about here. Over time, my sense of joy in my own skin dissipated (as it is wont to do), and I have been left with my natural levels of self appreciation, which I fear are sometimes unhealthy. But it's easy to look away, to live just a few inches below the surface. Isn't it? You can almost see things clearly, and no one really knows that you are under water. You almost look normal.

Then last week, JBL threw me a rope. He told me what he is giving me for my big 40th birthday, due next month: he is taking me hiking in the Grand Canyon (notice the term is 'hiking' rather than 'camping' - the former implies evidence of a 4-star hotel, rather than a tent outside in December - thank God), followed by a few days of spa and fun in Sedona. Something about this gift yanked me above water. I could see JBL clearly. I could see myself, somewhat more the person I wanted to be. Now the trick will be holding on to this feeling. Knowing that as the girls continue to grow, and as I continue to push myself in new and positive directions, I have the ability to stay here. More importantly I need to learn how to keep myself here, and not look away. I hope I can figure out how...