Clandestine Confessions

“Outside! Outside now! Now!”
The words the Pilates studio owner excitedly exclaimed at me as she came running inside.
I immediately got up from my seat at the computer, mid text to a member trying to schedule a class, wondering what could possibly be this urgent.
I was mentally preparing for the worst…or weirdest…
As I got closer, she opened the door.
“Take a look at this,” she said as she motioned towards the sky. “It looks like a painting.”
All the shades of a sunset mixed with the grays of an impending storm.
The clouds looking never more prepared to pour much needed rain onto our dying ground.
Returning it to its truest colors.
A majestic vision that brought immediate tears.
I live here…this is my home…
“Always important to stop and appreciate beauty like this,” she said.
–
As she went back inside to prepare for the next class, I stayed outside a little longer to take it all in.
I grabbed my phone from my pocket.
And right as I was about to hit that little white circle, a text came through.
The name displayed on a bar at the top of my screen.
One I hadn’t seen appear in a bit…
That fact only intensifying my response.
A response nobody else has ever given me before.
–
My knees instantly went weak.
The butterflies wildly fluttered within me.
The rush of adrenaline flowed through my body in full force.
My hands now trembling.
All culminating in a blurry image of an apparent sunset with my finger photobombing it…
It is amazing how you can feel something so strongly for someone who has no idea.
Continuing to live in that unrequited love for the sake of your heart’s security…
–
The prior week I met with one of my old company’s new clients.
He has developed a test that reveals your habits and thought patterns to then coach you to a more balanced mind and lifestyle, using those results.
He asked me to take the test to get familiar with what they do.
And this particular meeting was to go over the outcome of my assessment.
–
“Can I ask you a question? And feel no pressure to answer it,” he inquired halfway through.
“Absolutely. I am an open book.”
“Have you ever been wounded by a relationship?”
I quickly diverted my eyes, attempting to hide how rapidly a sea of memories can drown me with such a question.
I gave a little laugh to distract from the tear that was falling.
“And what would prompt that inquiry?” I asked him.
He shared his screen and circled with his mouse a particular area of my results.
The bar, that should be green, was a deep red.
“For someone so transparent with their story, you are extremely guarded. From my many years of doing this, I have learned it is usually a sign of a deep hurt or betrayal somewhere in your past.”
“And you would be right,” I said. “This heart of mine hasn’t always chosen the best people to protect it.”
“I just feel like I am supposed to tell you that it is okay to let people in again. That it is safe to start breaking down the wall – even if just brick by brick.”
–
I didn’t recognize how blinded I had become to the force of the fortification of my own heart.
Mistaking my transparency for vulnerability.
And realizing it is possible to share a lot while not letting people in to witness it for themselves.
A glass wall is still a barrier.
Even if you can see through it…
–
I have previously written about maintaining my past’s anonymity here in Utah.
Expressing the peace that comes with being “just J”.
But hiding my truth that it is also partially driven from fear of allowing myself to be fully seen again.
A privilege I handed men in my past and watched it get abused and be used against me.
Such behavior the creators of my deepest wounds.
In me and on me.
And I am petrified to put myself in such a susceptible position again.
Completely exposed, no shield on my soul, just hoping the receiver of the words will offer protection.
Not use it as an opportunity to fire the gun with a cowardice shot, weakening me to submissiveness.
Now his puppet, to be controlled and manipulated for his needs to be met.
–
I know it is not fair to my heart (or to men) to judge every man based on the actions of his predecessors.
“Safe”, yes.
But not true.
Not life giving.
Not dream fulfilling.
It is only me contributing to my own suffering – picking up where others left off.
A part of me still fighting to believe I am worth any more than that.
Too fundamentally flawed and damaged to ever be loved so wholly.
–
But I am slowly coming to believe perhaps it is time to place that “truth” into the proper light as a lie.
Challenge it to the conclusion that love….
True love.
The love that makes you better.
The love that reminds you of all that is good in this world.
The love that makes you take horrible photos as you tremble with pure bliss.
Is for me.
And is out there waiting for me.
To give my story its happily ever after…