Friday, March 2, 2018

Time Out

I used to do this Thing.

(I did it yesterday).

The Thing I did? Make sure I don't get ahead. Contend for the silver medal. Work for it, and then stab myself in the foot six steps before the finish line.

Yesterday people Asked Me For Help, which is perhaps one way The Universe says - hey, girl, someone wants to hear from you. I swatted it down. Got a little bratty. Felt overwhelmed that people would come to me for help, especially for something as complex and nuanced as Relationship Advice.

I have marked my success with an outdated ruler, in centimeters and metric tons of logic, antiquated units rather than stepping into what I do know. What I do have to offer.

The Truths I know are these:

I had - and have - a wonderful relationship with The Ben, who was once my husband. We talk on Facetime at least once a week, and we stick to the promises we made That One Time we stood in front of the people: I'm here to support your spiritual growth, no matter what - and - you call, I answer.

We got divorced, because our relationship didn't fit into marriage shoes anymore. It evolved, it grew, it changed. But it doesn't mean we love one another less or more.

At the same time, I saw the horrible Facebook memory of yesterday. The last day of February last year was the day I said publicly, in the face of the terrible truth that was unleashed against my will, that a subsequent relationship was built on lies, manipulation, stalking, cheating, and Pride. I dropped off of Facebook, and said I needed Help, and that I didn't know what that Help was.

One. Two. Three.

Powerless, Came to Believe, Turned Over, like a dog in the street that said - someone - everyone - help me please.

How can one person have both experiences? In that order? On what authority can I offer you anything?

So instead of answering gracefully, I got snarky. Sarcastic. I tried to be witty and funny, but I also did a disservice to the wisdom I've been entrusted with. I'm afraid that the idea that some of you see me as Worthy inspires the automatic reaction of self-sabotage.

How adorable, right?

I'm writing to say I'm sorry, mostly to myself. Because I've worked, studied, and lived hard to earn the seat of the teacher, and all I've done is disgrace myself.

So tonight I get to sit with that - put myself in time-out and think.

What do I have to offer you?

A lot.

I'm not bad at relationships. I know a few things. Not everything, but enough that there are certainly a few nuggets worth sharing.

And you asked, so I'll answer.


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