There wasn’t wine, not a candle-lit dinner or a dozen red roses. I didn’t meet my knight in shining armor and it was far from picture-perfect. There was, however, an ice-breaking conversation unlike any other, a handful of tear-filled kleenexes and more awkward silences then I could count on my hand. Romantic, no!?
But hey! the couch was cozy and the coffee was hot.
My first ever blind date.. with my therapist.
…And coming from someone who couldn’t even tell her best friends the thoughts running through her head, laying it all out there for someone I had only just met was unbelievably difficult.
Writing down my vulnerabilities, my insecurities, being completely honest with my readers and myself (above all) is proving to be more challenging than I thought. Writing is an amazing outlet for my thoughts but it has also re-opened a lot of “old” wounds and a lot of “old” feelings that I thought I could simply just shove under the rug.
Turns out, I can’t… thus came my overnight confidone.
Hiding, I have learned, doesn’t equate to healing and although I believe that the decision to repair must first begin within oneself, I am beginning to embrace vulnerability, as uncomfortable as it sometimes may be. Opening up has given me a newfound wholeness and a sense of freedom from the shame and unhappiness that held its tightly wound grip around me for so long.
So thank you, friends. I am grateful for the gentle nudges and recommendations that led me to the grey couch that I comfortably sat my tush and confessed my heart. I plan to have many more “dates” with the lovely woman that I now call my therapist.