Six...

It was like having a plug pulled out of some lost buried part of me that sent the tears streaming down my face. “Six.” I choked, air leaving my lungs. “I have no idea why I’m saying this. Nothing happened to me. I don‘t know what it is.”
“Nothing has to happen to you for you to shut it off.” Abby replied, her warm brown eyes taking in my slobbery image.
I’m on my back, my body stretched out on a massage table. My eyes had been closed at first and then she asked me the question…
I know it’s been forever since I’ve written. It’s not like I’ve forgotten. I think about writing every day. I do write every day. There is so much I’d like to write that there isn’t enough time in this life to get it all out. That feeling is so overwhelming that I tend to do nothing about it. I let it sit until I’m ready to scream. Right now, today, screaming isn’t violent enough. It’s not loud enough, not expressive enough to fully exorcise whatever it is that is fuming inside me. I tried to feed her to shut her up, tried to talk her out, tired pulling her out, tried yelling at her to get out but nothing is working so here I am, desperately needing to share this but feeling terrified, embarrassed, even a bit confused, but I’m here. Writing right now feels like a delicious drink of water on a hot day, so maybe this is what I’m after. I just went after it in the most round about way.
Jeff and I have been abiding by our date nights and not over stepping those boundaries too much. Sometimes the lines get blurred a little but for the most part we set aside time each week for a date. In the mean time we see each other when we can. I’m still working on being more open to him and with him. Parts of me are still so very frightened. They’re still insanely terrified that I will lose this wonderful person/relationship, because it’s happened before…why wouldn’t it happen again? Jeff is adorable, and so very precious to me in ways I can’t articulate even to myself. So Imma do it, scared or not. Thank God he’s patient and willing. I’m defiantly seeing that I’m going to have to talk, open up to let him in if this is ever going to be 100%. Thing is, I thought I was doing a decent job but I’m no where near open. There are glimpses of this openness though so I don’t entirely feel like a lost cause, I just get stuck sometimes.
Also with Beth’s encouragement, I’ve managed to begin selling my jewelry on etsy.com. (www.sweetladybee.etsy.com) All I needed it seemed was a little push. I’ve gotten so wrapped up in being a perfectionist, wanting my pictures to be flawless that I kept dragging my feet on this endeavor. The pictures aren’t perfect. They won’t be. I have no idea what I’m doing but I’m doing the best that I can. At least I have a starting point. I’ve made a place where I can edit accordingly. I couldn’t edit without the images being up so this whole thing was simply remaining a daydream until now.
Now I’m entertaining attaching another blog to the page chronicling my creative pursuits and life as I know it right now. That would mean, although I’m not sure yet, putting this one down except for writing on anniversaries like Rob’s birthday, (his would be 29th was Oct 23) the day we met, (Feb 10th,’08) and the day he died (April 20, 08) and any other situation I might feel like displaying. This idea is still bouncing around my head. I’m not sure I’m ready to really give this one up just yet and start another one. I’m not sure how to start really. That is the most paralyzing part, not knowing where to start. That first sentence is most agonizing but again, I’ll have nothing to edit if I don’t put it down.
Last Saturday, I asked one of my clients what she was going to be doing after her hair cut.
“I’m going to see an energy healer.” she replied.
“Really.” I stopped cutting to look at her in the mirror.
“Yeah, my mom got me started on that when I was really young. My aunt told me about this woman. She’s naturally gifted. She didn’t learn it or anything, she‘s been given this talent.”
“Really.” was all I could manage again as I pick up another section of her wet hair, and cut it accordingly. I’ve done this twice before, this energy work. I’ve enjoyed it both times but there this something about my client and the way she’s speaking about her lady that has me awfully intrigued. We both go back and forth about why we go, our confidence issues and past stuff that we want to work through. I ask her if this woman can communicate with people who have passed on.
“You know, I’m not sure.” my client tells me. “I actually think I’m going to ask her that today when I see her. I lost my boyfriend in 2008.”
I stopped cutting again. “Me too!”
“What? Really?”
“Yup.” I nod. I find out that my client’s boyfriend committed suicide on March 16th.
She gets it. Immediately we have this understanding sitting between us, that binds us together they way we aren’t bound to other people. I don’t have to say another word, don’t have to explain anything, because she’s been there.
We talk about dating and how we’re both terrified to experience that again, God forbid something happen a second time. I’m doing my absolute best to return my focus to her hair, tears blurring my view of what I’m supposed to cut.
“You have to see Abby.” my client tells me. “Please go see her. I’ll leave you her card.”
“I will.” I say it and mean it. I’m going to call her as soon as I finish drying my client’s hair.
Except I’m running late now and instead of quickly picking up the phone, or getting my next client, I’m locked in the bathroom, eyes squeezed shut, tears spilling out anyway, hands gripping the sink, desperate for a release of emotion I’ve managed to keep in for nearly an hour. Almost as quickly as I entered, I’m exiting, cheeks dry, happy face in place, deep breaths filling my lungs…
On Thursday I’m sitting in a coffee shop I’ve never been to trying to write. I’m to get on a bus soon and head over to Abby’s. It’s a beautiful day with bright sunshine and temperatures that feel like spring instead of a late Midwestern fall. A woman is across from me on a couch yelling into her cell phone. Something about her son’s birthday not being correct on an airline ticket. This woman has already been on my last nerve since she walked in. This tantrum makes it worse and I leave, wanting to walk and calm down before I get to Abby’s. I don’t want to bring all that crazy into her home.
I find the bus and get to her place. She lives in a high rise and I’m buzzed up by the concierge. I enter her small space and meet her as she’s making a pasta dish.
“Melissa! So good to meet you! Annie spoke so highly of you!” Abby smiles, shaking me hand.
I laugh and tell her that she spoke very highly of her too.
“Come in, let’s talk before we get started.” she tells me before instructing me to take off my shoes and leave them on the mat at the door.
I further enter her space which is cream colored and brightly sit with sunlight.
“Have a seat.” she motions toward the table and chairs. I do and smile across the way at her. “Tell me what brings you in.”
“Good question.” I sigh. “I’m having trouble getting in my own way when it comes to doing creative things. I make jewelry and want to write a book. Doing hair brings in my income but there are these other things I want to accomplish as well. I’ve got a lot of confidence issues surrounding these things.”
Abby nods.
“Also, I lost my boyfriend in a car accident two years ago so there’s that. I’m currently in a relationship that is wonderful but I’m having a hard time being open and allowing that relationship to happen because I’m so scared of losing it.”
“Of course you are! You experienced a tremendous loss. Sometimes, we go into a period of healing, kind of like wearing a cast where not much may happen creatively. Eventually though, it does happen, we just have to give it time.”
I nod. “I’m impatient. I’ve given it almost three years and am at a point where I don’t know what to do with it. I’m trying to put one foot in front of the other…”
She nods again. “That’s all you can do. His death, your experience with all of this at such a young age has opened you up to a kind of wisdom that most people don’t experience until much later in life. People your age are getting married and having children, not losing their significant others.”
I nod trying not to cry. I know it’s ok to cry but can’t seem to allow it to happen in front of people anymore. Not in front of her, Jeff or even Beth, the woman I freakin’ pay to listen to me.
Abby tells me a little about herself. She doesn’t see or hear well but her sense of touch is sharp. Upon touching people she can reach all sorts of different parts of them. She noticed that she was different at a very young age. Her grandmother has a similar gift and encouraged Abby to not shy away from hers. Abby would pick up on emotions from other people and is quite introverted. A part of me relates to this without speaking up and saying so. Later, I reveal this when she begins to set up the massage table.
“Are you empathic?” she asks.
“In a very small way, yes.” I reply. “I can pick up on my client’s energies pretty well. It becomes a problem sometimes when someone is overwhelming. I get sucked in.”
“Yes. You have a very bright energy about you but you’re very respectful. Sometimes people are all over the place.”
“I completely understand!” I laugh.
When everything is set up she asks me to lay face up on the table. I do so and stare at the ceiling.
“Melissa, this is your time ok? If anything becomes uncomfortable for you or I’m saying too much just let me know.”
I close my eyes and nod. I want whatever she wants to give. I hear her inhale and exhale. Her hands haven’t touched me when she speaks.
“You haven’t begun to touch your grief. You haven’t been present in your body in a very long time. You judge yourself very harshly.” Her hand touches my head, and tears come. “Am I right?”
“Yes.” I whisper.
Her hands continue to move down my head and over my ears. “You’re running on endurance alone. Operating like this hasn’t made any room for creativity. It’s like you’re running a marathon with no fuel. You’re like a pressure cooker right now. I’m going to touch some acupuncture points to help ease the pressure in your head.”
I feel her fingertips on the tops of my ears. While I don’t feel much going on through out my body, I feel her hands heat up. She’s quiet until she moves around to the side of me and asks the question that had me instantaneously crying. We talked earlier about me being empathic, picking up on other people’s feelings and energies. I feel a lot with my clients mostly but have been able to tune into my friends, co-workers and sometimes, Jeff… a little. I’m scared of it and don’t acknowledge it’s happening always.
“I’m going to ask you a question.” Abby says to me. “I don’t want you to think about it much or analyze it, just answer with the first thing that comes to your mind.”
I nod.
“How old were you when you first shut off the empathic part of yourself?”
Enter the tears and the answer being “six”.
I’m confused now. I don’t understand what’s going on or what part of me said “six.”
“I feel it was earlier than that. I feel like you were three, four, five, maybe six.” she tells me.
“Nothing happened though.”
“Nothing has to happen. You may have walked past someone who just committed a crime and got scared and shut it off. Kids are very perceptive but have a hard time processing things so they tune out, shut off.”
The rest of the session was relaxing and I felt like a million dollars when I left. I walked for a while before finding the train and heading home. I was dying to share this with Jeff but when he came over I shut off. I got into the story a little bit before telling him that I was getting on my own nerves hearing myself talk and I shut off.
“I feel like you don’t want me here.” he says later while fixing dinner.
“Of course I do.” I tell him. I don’t know what’s going on, talking just feels too hard. Maybe one day…or maybe not. I’m not sure.
The following week was pretty tumultuous. I cried a lot, wrote even more, made several pieces of jewelry and eventually told Jeff. Whatever Abby did, she unlocked something and I’m itching to go back and see what else might happen but want to give it some more time, letting the dust settle a little bit from this session before diving into another…

Black and White...

It’s Thursday and I’m sitting across from Beth in her office. I swear she’s like a dose of crack. I so look forward to our appointments. I tell her that I’ve been hanging out with Jeff despite my telling him that I can’t have contact with him because it’s too freakin’ hard. Yet, I can’t seem to get enough of him either. I don’t understand.
“I don’t think this needs to be so black and white.” Beth offers. “I think that you can have time to yourself and your relationship, if you want.”
I nod, letting that roll around in my head for a minute. Do I think in terms of black and white? All or nothing? Of course I do… if I didn’t I probably wouldn’t be in this predicament.
“I think you guys need to set some very clear boundaries and not over step them. Set up one or two nights a week for dates and leave it at that. If you choose to see each other more, make that decision but don’t let a brunch date go all day if that isn’t what you’ve planned. That way you know you’re going to see each other which frees you both up to do other things.”
I nod again. “I like this idea, we just do a very good job of letting things go overboard.”
“You consume each other and that’s when you run into problems.” she reminds me.
“Yup.”
“Is this something you want to try?” she asks.
“It is. I’m just scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of having it not work, of going over board again and ending up where we are now.”
“That’s why it’s important to talk about it. When you’re feeling things are getting out of control again you’re going to have to say something to him. I really feel like this is fixable.”
I nod. “Me too.” a smile slowly spread across my face. “So. He’s working now. Should I just call and ask him to meet up?”
“I don’t see why not.” she smiles back at me.
“Oh I’m excited!” I laugh. Suddenly, a solution has presented itself and I’m ecstatic.
When I leave her office, I call Jeff and leave him a message. He later agrees to meet me. We decide to go to Millennium Park where I relay the details of my visit with Beth.
“So…you wanna try this?” I ask.
He nods. “Yes.”
I’m bursting, and relieved all at the same time, ecstatic and grateful that he’s willing to try this. We decide to set up a date for next week and walk out of the park, my hand in his, as it’s closing.