Speak

He called tonight.
I shut the door without seeing him to the car as I do every other night, and because of that he called. He makes me speak.  No, he asks me to speak.  My nature, my past, has taught me, rather groomed me, not to speak.  Upon my own accord, or lack of, I never gave voice to my feelings, nor my independence. My past encouraged silence: to shut a door.  He acknoldges that and gives room for that.  Frustrated, he left, with the door closed abruptly behind him. He thought about it, attempted to put himself in my shoes, and called.  He talked.  I talked.  He loves me.  I love him. 
I have never before felt able or welcomed to talk. 'Tough or uncomfortable situations are made for fixing, not talking about.'  I have always stifled feelings to accommodate others, or to fix others.
It is crazy, but true: I have someone in my life that is by my side, all the while pushing me forward and letting me grow.

the compliment

The other day I received the greatest compliment I've ever received. 
I was told that "I look taller".
Laugh if you must,
I did.
Being a staggering 5'2", with good shoes, there are bound to be countless other adjectives that can be used to describe me at any given time.
So, let me tell you the story.
I was running late, as I usually am.  Got on the elevator, pressed 5.  Entered suite 520 and immediately offered my "sorry I'm late" apology.  She knows, asked me in and we sat, as we have week after week for more than a year and a half now.  I on a dated and neutral couch, tissues on one side and a curled up pup on the other.  She across from me in her rolling desk chair, shoes removed, holding her Tupperware and eating the lunch she's presumably tried to finish multiple times before my arrival.  Although this set up is very routine, the past few weeks have seemed different; more causal; more comfortable; more at ease.  We've laughed more.  That is what I'd noticed.  I didn't pay much mind to the decrease in tears, as they are still present, but I had been noticing the laughter.  I sat, and smiled.  She asked me how I was.  I responded, as I always do, with I'm good. Then, following a moment of silence, she said I looked taller.  I furrowed my brow and laughed. 
"What?"
"I've noticed lately that you seem taller." 
"What?"
'I've just noticed lately that you have come in with a presence, and peace, and confidence, that I haven't seen in you before, and it is something I've wanted for you.  You should be proud."

I started going to counseling shortly after I realized my marriage was over.  I can distinctly remember the phone call I made to my sister, it was a text actually, and it was a difficult one.  My mind was reeling, my emotions were reeling, my family was falling apart, and the absolute only thing I was sure of was that I need help; professional help.  My sisters recommendation, from her friend, was a Godsend. 
Talking to a therapist has been such a bizarre, and amazing experience.  Looking back, I am pretty sure the first six months of talking to her consisted of silence between sobbing. But, she let me experience it.  In fact, I can't tell you what she did, what psychological tactics she used, nor any grand words of wisdom that made everything better for me.  I can, however, tell you that I look taller.  More importantly, I feel taller. 
I do not, nor will not, discredit myself, because I have put in a lot of work to better what is me, but I am so very grateful for her.  I am so very grateful for the overwhelming feeling God bestowed on me to get help. 
I am still such a work in progress, but I have made such progress...and because of that I stand a little taller.