Last Thursday I reached a high point of what I thought I could take in emails, and events on the blog and was especially stalled out. Between work and blog drama, I was done in for the day.
It was Grace of all people, who texted me repeatedly to ask if I was okay. Checking in every few hours to tell me it wasn’t that bad, not really, and I would be safe, etc.
I was scheduled for a date that evening, a movie with a stranger – but after the commentary that day, I knew I was close to cracking and I didn’t want to risk bursting into tears at the drop of a hat on a perfect stranger. So I cancelled.
Grace asked me if I was alright and I responded. I’m tired. I don’t feel safe. I want to hide. I’m pretty emotional.
“Come on down to this little bar I know. It’s safe. No one will even know you’re there. I’ll pour you a shot of rum and beat you at some pool. It’s going to be okay.”
I had my reservations. I knew I was emotionally trigger-happy and I sure as hell didn’t want to be vulnerable around Grace. But strangely, I also didn’t want to sit home alone nor did I want to go anywhere I normally would where I might potentially bump into anyone. I wanted someplace obscure and let me also be honest and say, there is a comfortable familiarity with Grace.
So I went to meet him. (I know. I know.) We met at a dive bar in SE and as soon as I got there, his demeanor was entirely different than I’ve ever seen it before around me. He gave me plenty of space and didn’t try to touch me, which I was grateful for.
We played a few games of 9 ball and I had a rum and coke that was more like a lot of rum with the essence of coke.
Halfway through the second game, the conversations started in earnest.
“It’s not that bad, really.” He said.
“I know. It’s no big deal. It’s just timing. All of it is timing. It’s like I am weeble-wabbling because the thing with you put me a little off balance and then it’s been a one-two punch from other angles and I haven’t had time to process or find my center. I’m just really off center.”
Then, to lighten the mood I teased, “You have caused quite a sensation on the blog, Grace. I don’t know whether to be terrified or impressed that you have grabbed so much attention.”
“Yeah, I can even intimidate people when I’m not in the room! Your friend Jordan takes the credit for Cock-blocking – but really if you think about it – I was cock-blocking because Shane thought Jordan was me!” He chuckled. “I can cock-block from across town when no one has even met me.”
We talked about the blog. I told him I’d already written the post about continuing and not giving up but it was sitting in the queue to be published when I got home. I knew I wasn’t giving up but that didn’t stop me from feeling off center still.
He bought me another rum and coke and we went outside so he could smoke. Still he kept his distance. Allowing me to find balance around him and feel secure. As we were sitting on the bench I indulged in a moment of self-pity and said, “You suck. If this is what you knew you were waking me up for? You woke me up for this? This is what I get to look forward to? Men like this. Chimera falls of the planet. DoubleVirgo is sends an occasional random text from space. The dude I didn’t go out with tonight sent a crappy douchey response about me not going out. I feel so….”
I couldn’t think of what to say. Really? Is this what I have to look forward to? I feel like some hideous freak or anomaly.
“I’m sorry, Athena. I’m sorry that this is not easy for you and that I was an asshole. But you are adorable, and you’re going to find a really nice guy. Just don’t give up. You’re cool and cute and…”
Halfway through his speech my tears began falling. The surface tension in my eyes cracked, pooling tears down my face and Grace reached out to brush off them off my cheeks. He looked mildly alarmed and I turned my face away at the slight glint of pity in his gaze and the shame that burned in me that I cried in front of him.
Everything about my person felt weak. My body felt weak. My heart. My spirit flagged and he scooted across the bench and pulled me against his chest, murmuring in my ear and stroking my hair.
I allowed it. Not only did I allow it, I found comfort in it. It was foreign, this being exposed and vulnerable. Vulnerable. So strange. The last time I let a man hold me when I broke was my brother and that was literally years ago.
Grace took me in. The scent of his beer and reds and that soothing smell of captured light, his arms wrapped me –pulling my face to his neck and cradling me when my strength gave out.
It’s a strange concept to me as of the last four years to let someone take my weight. I rarely seem to be able to give my full emotional weight over to anyone – rarely women, but certainly never men. Obviously, I have longed for it – but have not felt in the men I know, a willingness to reach when I am too tired to pull myself up, and because I have not sensed such willingness – I have been reluctant to ever let myself be fragile.
Fragile, means breakable. I am not a delicate wilting flower, but I realized as Grace shielded my body with his, that I am not as powerful all of the time as I like to imagine and this sudden realization made me feel…. small.
How sad that I can be so easily spun out. How pathetic that a string of events, maybe half a dozen or so not-such-a-big-deal events all piled together could created a critical mass and nearly make me curl up in a ball.
I am stronger than that. I know I am harder. But for that moment when Grace tried to bolster my hopes of being loved again…. I discovered I am still raw. I am still childlike in my desires. I am still waking. I am still adjusting to the light outside the box. I am still – much to my dismay – fragile.
I guess that means I am still human.
Grace dried my tears and brought to my attention, quite unwittingly that having come out of the box, coming back into the light – it’s going to be a little rocky. It’s not going to be as easy as I thought and there is a beauty in the kind of messiness that it is, because I have discovered that letting someone hold me when I crack means that chunks of debris from my isolation are breaking apart and falling away…..
… leaving behind a woman I am not sure I’ve seen before. She is vulnerable. She is more fragile than I expected. She is a little more vibrant. She smiles more. Last night I asked Grace, “You are different around me. You keep your space more – it’s not bad it’s just different. Like you are holding yourself away from me.”He sighed heavily, “That’s because what few parts of me that are still decent. The good parts left are telling me that I just need to look after you.” “How do you intend to you that?” I wondered.
“I don’t actually know yet,” He said, and kissed my temple. “I don’t actually know yet.”
That night I went home and posted the blog in my queue about not quitting the BlissQuest. I’d already written it because I knew I couldn’t be scared off by circumstance so easily. It was just timing. Poor timing. It was a lot of heavy all at once.
But the thing that surprises me most about it, is that I found a measure of sturdiness in the confidence Grace inspired during our pool games. I didn’t ask for help. I didn’t ask for assurance or safety or pep talk about how strong I can be, or how much I can do. He just gave it.
He offered a lot, generously -and asked for nothing back. All I had to do was accept it.
So I did, thusly teaching me that maybe – just possibly – a moment of weakness is not a character flaw in me that I have to attack and make better… but a window into the human condition to which I am a current member, and I can accept help without judging myself; accept comfort when it is offered. Let someone take my weight for a couple of hours and find a quantum of peace in their confidence and when it is all said and done… I will be a little more rested and strong enough to take my own weight back and carry on.
Recent Comments