For a split second, I expected him to hang up.
In years past, I was a very busy, mostly stay-at-home
mom. And while people who have never taken on that role might assume it makes
for an easy life… with three little ones and one older child, it was anything
but. Making sure diapers were changed, food was in the house, and the home
didn’t dissolve into utter chaos was a full-time, all-consuming job.
Occasionally, I would get phone calls from the primary
breadwinner, updates about a difficult client or whatever was happening in his
world. And occasionally, I would be interrupted mid-conversation by tiny voices
that needed something right then.
What followed was predictable.
I would get screamed at and told I shouldn’t have
answered the phone if I didn’t have time for him… and then he would hang up.
That was my normal.
And it changed me.
It changed how I showed up with my children, depending on
where I landed on the scale of emotional aftermath. Some days I was steady.
Some days I was unraveling. Eventually, I just stopped answering the phone
altogether.
Little moments like that quietly shaped the landscape of
my life for fifteen years.
Some days, I still feel like a trained dog. My nervous
system bracing on command. And maybe it will for a while… until I can teach
myself that I get to sit, stay, and soften in my own time.
So, when I paused to respond to my child during a recent
phone call… I expected the same ending.
Silence.
Too much of it.
I asked, cautiously, “Are you still there… or did you get
bored and hang up?”
And he said, simply, “Why would I hang up? That’s kind of
a douchey thing to do.”
And just like that… something in me cracked open.
I cried… not because anything bad had happened, but
because nothing bad did.
Because my nervous system had been waiting… for softness.
Do you know how exhausting it is to brace for life?
I am so tired of bracing.
In 1697, Charles Perrault, wrote a piece titled Le
Petit Chaperon Rouge. It was what
the Brothers Grimm used as inspiration for Little Red Riding Hood in 1812. In Perrault’s version, there is no happy ending. The wolf beats Red in a race to grandma’s
house. Eats the poor old woman, then
climbs into bed dressed as grandma. He
then invites the girl to remove her clothes and jump into bed with him. At the very last minute, the innocence leaves
her and she realizes that what she is, in fact, laying next to is the wolf.
Staring that beast right in the eye… One
gulp. It was written as a cautionary
tale to young women not to talk to swift talking strangers. This was the softest landing for a sexual
metaphor in 1697?
I have always preferred the 1812 version that we all read
today, where the hunter comes to the rescue, splays the wolf open to release
Red and Grandma.
Second chances in life seem more deserved.
For a long time, I thought the pivotal moment in that
story was seeing the wolf.
But now I think… sometimes the real moment of awakening
is something else entirely.
Sometimes, it’s realizing you were never supposed to live
in fear to begin with.
I’ve known for many moons now, that in order to REALLY
regulate this old nervous system of mine, I would have to experience things in
this life that have not been my normal.
I’ve begged for it.
Its little moments, like not getting hung up on. OR… get this… a little “I’m thinking of you
and can’t wait to get back..” card sent in the mail… I have talked and texted
with this man multiple times a day. The
card was truly unnecessary… But it is MY love language that he had no clue
of. I often write myself little notes to
be read at a later date… I haven’t received a surprise note such as this in
over 20 years.
I think I could feel my heart open just a bit more…
At the beginning of the year, I thought seriously and
deeply about what I wanted in my life… in my love life too, if ever given the
opportunity to be a part of a relationship again. I made a list of all the things I’ve kept in
my internal treasure box since the dawn of knowing anything about love.
Adventure
Motorcycle rides
Softness
Hugs
Holding hands
Long hair
Muscles
AND Love letters were on that list.
A girl can dream…. Right?
If I had half the mind, I should have made a Poppet Doll…
the spur that started the idea of Voodoo dolls.
It seems ancient enough to encompass the fairytale type of vibe I’ve
been going for.
Before the year ended, I had what I can only describe as
a “come to Jesus” conversation with the Universe.
A real one.
I remember asking, very clearly:
Please let me allow softness into my life.
Please don’t let me push it away just because I don’t recognize it.
I lit my candle and burned 12 intentions for my coming
year… and the one left for me was this: “I know I am held in love by life,
others and myself. I will allow love to
find me easily.”
Maybe a billboard featuring a picture of me dressed as Bob
Ross? Will that allow it to find me
easily enough?
“…So beautiful appeared my
death - knowing who then I would kiss,
I died a thousand times before I died...”
-Rabia al Basri_
