Picture it: early December of 2013. I was having a typical day. I went to work, and afterwards like we normally did weekly, my best friend and I went to the mall for our date night. Catching up, shopping, cackling as only soulmates can do, and of course, dinner. At TGIFriday’s, I ordered my favorite: the Balsamic Chicken salad. As we continued our evening, something about my salad seemed off. I didn’t finish it, and eventually we wrapped the night with light and hugs heading home. 

My boyfriend (now husband) came over and we fell asleep to Dallas Buyers Club. During the middle of the night, I woke up feeling extremely ill. I sat on the edge of the bed while my love slept, contemplating going to the hospital. After a long debate with myself on if I could afford the ER bill, I slid on shoes and slipped out of the house. Halfway to driving myself to the hospital, I felt like I was having a heart attack.

I ended up having emergency surgery, and for a moment, was fighting for my life. 

I got A LOT of backlash for just leaving the house. At the time, I told myself that I didn’t want to wake him, and that’s why I didn’t say anything and just left. As I’ve aged, been to therapy, understand myself better, and see the situation with older eyes, truth is….I didn’t trust him.

Sure, I entrusted him to my orgasms, and I trusted him with my children, but I did not trust him with the most intimate parts of me: my mind. My baggage. We split when I moved to Texas. Thankfully, we reconnected and I began to let him in more. At this point, he knows things I’d told myself I was going to take to the grave. 

Fast forward to last year, I found myself needing another major surgery. While in the hospital, I got up to use the restroom and couldn’t wipe myself. He asked me softly if I needed help, and I got super quiet before whispering yes. It was the most humbling moment of my life. As he wiped my bottom and kissed my forehead, I began to cry. An uncontrollable sob. I mean an ole nasty snot cry with the pause in it from my toddler days. Not that I didn’t trust him before this, but it was in this oh so vulnerable moment I realized just how much I trust him. For what felt like the first time in as long as I can remember, I couldn’t protect or save myself. He comforted me…most importantly MENTALLY when I felt utterly defenseless. 

Admittedly, I have trust issues. An overly complicated life, and early age forced independence has conditioned me to keep most things close to the chest, not let people get too close, refuse to show anything that might be deemed as weakness, and for the love, never ask anyone for anything, EVER. From my early teens, I’ve done things on my own. It’s all I know. My circle that I do trust is extremely small, and even when I do share things, I’ve fought with myself a time or two beforehand. I’m fully cognizant that my trauma is very different from most, and more than most can’t relate. 

As I’ve been watered and nurtured…I’ve blossomed. Sometimes I look at myself and am proud of not only the things I’ve overcome, but in also how I deal with my trauma’s and demons daily. There’s such beauty in embracing not being the person you were not even one second before. I’ve come to realize the more I open up, the bigger and brighter my flower flourishes. I cry A LOT more, am entirely too emotional at times, but to me it’s beautiful because I’ve given myself permission to feel.

My husband allows me the space to explore my fears, and provides patience, comfort, love, and the biggest gift of all…safety to conquer them.

For this level of evolution, unconditional love, and joy, I am thankful.

May your heart find it’s way full and abundantly overflowing with peace and love.

Love and light always.

“Life is like an onion, you peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep.”- Carl Sandburg