Yesterday, a dear family member offered my family something. I happen to like this man very much. When K and I separated (he needed to get his shit together and I was tapped out), he was the only member of K’s family that checked in on me. He’s the old, wise, all-knowing K, and I love him uniquely.
This offer – this huge, amazing blessing in the form of housing – threw me for a loop. Gah, that keeps happening, maybe I need to invest in gravity shoes? And it wasn’t until I walked through every concern I had (What if K dies? Is this too big of a gift? Should I have to suffer some more?), that I realized where my fears were coming from. (Man, my therapist would be so freakin’ proud right now.)
In my first life, with my family of origin, I could not rely on anything. They sky is not blue. The sky was falling. Wait, no need to worry, the sky IS blue and is completely stuck in place – go about your business! Shifting sands, my ass — I lived in the equivalent of a snowglobe. So, when this kind man presented something to me, I was waiting for the catch. I was frantic about inking a deal rightthisminute because the offer was going to evaporate.
Somethings, you can’t relearn until you have to walk them again. This is one of those times. I have worked through lots and lots of stuff that is written in my history books, and I’m about to amend the foundation chapter. Because the foundation I’m writing? The one that K and I are building together? It is rock solid.