Lattes, Laughter, & Love

It started with lattes, finished with laughter and a year later I find myself in love with the most incredible man. I have laughed more this past year, smiled until my cheeks hurt, and experienced things that were on lists that I had only hoped to experience. Pipe dreams and beyond. Not every moment has been easy. There have been tears, there has been fear, and I have had a number of traumas come to light. I have run away literally and figuratively. No fights, but heavy conversations with heavy topics- yet what do you expect when you have the ability to be truly open and honest with someone? 

A year of texts, calls, conversations, and did I mention the laughter? I have never met anyone that makes me laugh the way he does; there are times it is unintentional and then there are the moments that he sets about the make me smile and laugh. Even sitting here now reflecting on the past year it makes me smile. My kids like to ask what we talk about, and the answer is everything and anything. We discuss our day, my kids, an adventure we're planning, cars, books, the chaos of life, computers, technology, food, beer, and so many things I can't even begin to list them. We talk about us too. We talk about where we are in the moment, where we are looking, and dance around the topic of the future. It's there, we know it is, yet there is something about being present and accepting of where we are right in the moment that has it's own beauty. I have been in other relationships where I spent a lot of time in my head about the future and planning the future that I missed the simplicity and beauty of the moment. This incredible man of mine helps me stay in the here and now. While we're in the midst of making plans for this upcoming winter we have the ability to look at the now, for which I am thankful.

I have spent much of this year healing from intense past traumas, and he has been there every step of the way, even when I'm terrified. In the moments when I am overwhelmed and running he has met me with patience and honesty and understanding. In April I was triggered by a small series of little things, things so small I could not explain them, but I bolted, took off to the trail without a goodbye, without a note, nothing. I knew I was running, I knew I should turn around and yet I just kept driving and then hiking. A few hours and buckets of tears later I picked up the phone; standing in a small windbreak at the top of a ridge on the Appalachian Trail in New Jersey I called to apologize. I stood there fighting back tears and shared that I was not ok, but that it was not ok how I left, how I treated him. As we navigated that phone call my tears subsided and I was able to find a bit of peace in the remainder of the hike. Peace I needed so that I could identify what had happened and connect with him post-hike. Full of fear and trauma response I met him after that trip, unsure how I would be received. He had told me he had forgiven me, but I knew I had hurt him, and the trauma and fear had me walking into that restaurant shaking. Seeing him sitting there smiling with a beer on the table I was brought back to the matcha latte table, the two moments overlaid for just a moment, and with that I found the ounce of courage I needed to step forward, sit down and begin a difficult conversation. How do you explain the trauma, the hurt, the fear from something so small when the person sitting next to you wants nothing but the best for you?

There have been no straightforward paths over this past year, and it has been challenging navigating my own traumas, hurts and fears, while he deals with own. Finding the balance of asking for my needs and meeting his needs is something I work at daily, and while it is easier it still takes effort. Finding myself on the receiving end of beautiful caretaking is a first. "I don't know what to do with this" is a phrase I use often. I have cared for myself and my crew for so long that I do not know how to be the receiver of such caretaking gifts. It should be a simple thing to have someone make you a meal, show up when you're not well, celebrate your birthday, and gift you something because they thought of you; in fact it's what I do. Yet my history is not such that it is something I am accustomed too. In the end it is something that I do not want to become accustomed too, it is something that I never wish to take for granted. I want to cherish and honor the caretaking, the heart and thought that is poured into some of these things.

I sit here a year later sipping my wine, wishing it was a matcha latte with company, yet we have had a year of matcha lattes, and we have more coming. More snowboarding, more hikes, more meals, more laughter, and more of the little things that are part of this journey of ours. 

"Deep within us—no matter who we are—there lives a feeling of wanting to be lovable, of wanting to be the kind of person that others like to be with. And the greatest thing we can do is to let people know that they are loved and capable of loving." ~ Fred Rogers

Sanctuary

Find one that makes you melt with a touch, smile at their words, and wraps you in their arms into a space of sanctuary.

These are the words I posted to an Instagram story the other night.

Similar phrases and words that I have seen others post, yet something I never have experienced fully until recently. It is approaching a year that my incredible man has been in my life, and while we have not been officially together the entire time, it bears celebrating. Over the past 10 days I have spent much of that time overwhelmed and stressed, pushed to and beyond my breaking point, and there he was- always a supportive text away. Countless text messages, voice memos, and a few long phone calls all of which were received while he was dealing with his own intense stressors. There were no complaints, nothing but support and care and concern for me, solutions and suggestions were offered and never once did I feel like I was being a burden. Never once did I feel dismissed, or that my current problems were less important than his. I was too stressed and overwhelmed to even have a moment to allow my trauma responses to surface. I focused on breathing, the miniature plans that we made, and doing my best to find a way through each of the compounding difficult moments.

There were hugs that grounded me, reset my heart-rate, restored my ability to take a deep breath, and move out of the adrenaline phase where I found myself. Hugs that I never even had to ask for; I walked in his door and he simply wrapped me up and held me until he knew I was calmer. There were countless cups of hot tea made, pancakes prepared, and all done of his own accord without prompting- nothing more than him being him. A retreat away was offered, a space to rest, recover, and reset with nothing more to do than exist in a safe and peaceful place with his calming company. I received caretaking in a way that I have gifted, yet not previously received from someone in this role in my life. In a period of intense stress I found healing.

After a recent dinner we found ourselves in our usual space: talking, laughing, and sharing in his kitchen. With a hug and gentle touch from him I melted into his body, my body and mind finding peace. Words he crafted for me that left me both speechless and smiling; words that had me leaving that night with eyes welled with happy tears; words that even in this moment bring a knowing smile to my face. There is sanctuary in the space that we are creating.

There is peace in the stability that is us. Don't ask us what the future holds, we do not know. While we make tentative plans, we are happy and accepting in evolving us in a time and space designed by us. 

Soul Compassion

With the simple touch I could focus, even if just for a moment. The gentle pressure of the hand on my forearm and the thumb movement allowed me to breathe in a way that I hadn't before. Though my eyes were closed the world became crisper and I could feel the individual points of tension in my body. I used that touch as an anchor point, lowering my shoulders from my ears, and drawing a deep enough breath to release the tension starting at my toes. The shame, the weight, the overwhelm at bay with the grounding touch. A removal of my anchor point had me floundering almost instantaneously, I reached out blindly, unable to open my eyes, unable to speak, but as a hand grasped mine it all stabilized.

There we sat, my head in my hand, my other hand wrapped in theirs, and me simply trying to breathe. Minutes passed and I worked diligently to release all of the tension, focusing again on that point of contact, grounding myself, reassuring myself through that point that I was ok, I was safe, and I was cared for. When it was time I raised my head and was met with eyes full of care, kindness, concern, and compassion. It was overwhelming to be greeted as such, and nearly enough to make me want to bury my head again, yet I fought through the urge and simply sat there. Safety and security were offered, and upon standing my heart began to pound, clearly the fears not yet passed and my body responding as if I was unsafe and needing to flee. Wrapped in a deep hug my breathing calmed, my heart-rate slowed, and the tension that coiled again slowly dissipated. 

Never could I have imagined that sharing a story would have impacted me so deeply. I did not expect the nearly instantaneous fallout that occurred; the grief that I felt in moments, but it was the overwhelming shame that came crawling out of my body and onto my skin that surprised me the most. It was a story that I had spent a significant amount of time in therapy processing, working through, and healing from. Yet here I was, a mess, but I also knew that this was different. This was not the same intense emotions I had previously experienced with this memory, this was a different set of emotions, and the unique part of this moment was that I was not alone. I was not abandoned, dismissed, or gaslighted; I was supported, cared for, embraced, and given what I needed without even being asked. Safety and security abounded in the simplicity of the touch.

At some point I knew that I was moving beyond a reaction to the shame I had been feeling after sharing my story, though I knew I had nothing to be ashamed of. I knew that the intense reaction I was experiencing was from the caretaking I was receiving. This was new; being raw and vulnerable and then being met with such kindness, care, and compassion from someone in this role in my life. I paced, I dug my nails into my palms, I tried my best to share what was happening internally because I could see the concern growing on their face as they watched me unravel. I knew I needed to breathe, I knew I needed to find a way to ground myself, and I knew I needed to fight against the overwhelming desire to bolt. I shared what I could, that I was overwhelmed with them caring for me, that this was something very new for me, and that I was concerned for them and how they were dealing with this entire situation- from the story I shared to how I was currently behaving.

With words that I didn't know I needed to hear I was told that I had nothing to be ashamed of, that they were not upset with me, and that none of this was my fault. I was offered choices and when I stared at them blankly and managed to say that I can't make a decision right now they were there, giving me the support I needed. It was a series of little things that were done, that both felt so unnatural and exactly what I needed. I was not in a space to ask or even know what I needed in that moment, my brain in flight mode, and what I could manage was breathing. A hot cup of tea, a hug, a hand to hold, and a shoulder to rest my head upon were given freely. A safe space to not only share my story, but then process the unexpected aftermath was gifted to me. I offered apologies that were not necessary, and were thus accepted, but told repeatedly that they were not required. I offered thanks to them for simply being them and caretaking of me in ways that they intuitively knew I needed. 

It was an intense few hours for us both as we navigated this entirely new experience. With the dawn of the morning brought brief moments of embarrassment and shame from me, again the overwhelming desire to bolt from the situation, and again I was met with patience, compassion, and a cup of hot tea. As I clung to the teacup I appeared deep in thought, yet my thoughts were not deep- they were simple: breathe in, breathe out. A focus on the breath to dissolve the tension, shut down the flee response, and focus on the point of security within my view. With a cup of tea in me the world was a little clearer, and I was a little calmer, yet throughout the day I went through cycles of doubt, and each time I was given the reassurance I needed that all was well.

The physical connection, the caretaking, the compassion, empathy, and continuous support provided was overwhelming and yet healing. It is a moment to reflect upon and also celebrate. I know this is another step in allowing myself to be cared for, to be vulnerable, to remove the stress and barriers, and allow another to see me in my most human of moments. It is in these moments that my humanity is on display and my soul laid bare, an offering of extreme trust, one which was accepted wholeheartedly, for which I can do nothing more than smile.