Truth or Dare

I’ve said before that it is liberating to be naked with someone in a river.  But this is true only if I embrace the initial fear and move through it.  There is something on the other side of that fear.  And on the other side of the courage to stand and wade in those waters.  I’m finding that sometimes the results look different than what I expected, and that has to be okay.  As if the very act of standing without pretense, brings the moment of freedom, followed by acceptance of the results. 

Brene Brown talks about the importance of vulnerability, and that in it we find “uncertainty, risk and emotional exposure.”  Girrrrrrrl, I know that’s true.  As I spend these mornings reading and listening to the words of others, the insight almost always comes in the form of just simply concurring with someone else’s ability to state one of my beliefs clearly.  I already had the belief, and quite possibly the actions involved, but just couldn’t state with accuracy what was happening.  This is true for vulnerability.  I have been practicing it in real form, but just hadn’t explained it as such.  I read “Daring Greatly” awhile back, but hadn’t thought about this explanation in quite some time, so hearing those words this morning gave me the “aha moment” that I needed to proceed with writing today. 

Now, that doesn’t mean that the world needs, or that I need to be unclothed at all times.  No one really needs to see that.  I promise.  So, we choose who we are vulnerable with, right?  And we decide what that looks like.  We choose who we trust in those naked moments, and it’s usually those that we trust will disrobe as well.  When appropriate.  So, I back up from my earlier invitation.  You and I may never be truly naked together. 

I doubt that you are naked right now, and I am surely not, so I think it’s best that we both sit in our robes, without quite knowing all that's underneath.  It’s not being clad in armor, it’s just being modestly wrapped in plush leisure attire.  That’s how I must approach this kind of writing because there are things that I can not talk about.  I must accept that, because I do not want to hurt myself or others by writing so publicly, or cause confusion in its interpretation.  There’s real responsibility in that, and for the last few days, I feared that my integrity and creativity were threatened by this realization.  I feel differently now.  And also, there are things that I don’t trust myself with explaining well, not quite yet.  It’s okay to say that I’m just not there yet.  I simply want to be responsible with my words, and intentional with my vulnerability.  And I pledge to stay away from Sharon Stone flashes of indecency.  

What I didn’t realize for quite some time, is that I was already practicing vulnerability with my husband, both before and after rehab.  I never lied to him.  I actually believe that THAT decision, to be that open and close to someone, was the beginning of my recovery. 

We reconnected after many years apart about three and a half years ago, a reunion that is still mind-blowing in many ways.  We had grown up going to our hometown church together, seeing one another on Sundays, skipping church to eat donuts in high school, until we both graduated and lost touch when we left for college.  We never dated back then, and never kept in touch in any way.  But years later, he sent me a quick note on Facebook.  “Hey, old friend.”  We talked that day on the phone, and every day since.  To say that I trusted him from the very beginning is an easy way to put it, but does not begin to cover the depth that is present in our appreciation and acceptance of one another.  It was apparent, even in our first conversations that our connection was something extraordinary, and that it was so unusual, that it would have been irresponsible not to pursue it.  That’s how I saw it. 

We spoke with honesty and openness.  Perhaps it was our shared history.  Perhaps it was the fact that we had both suffered enormous challenges in recent years….divorces, deaths of loved ones, massive career changes.  Huge things for anyone to endure.  And we were both positive people, who laughed at ourselves and others, and looked for deeper meaning in it all.  It was like finding a partner who looked at the world in a similar way, but could also teach me how to see it even better.  Who wouldn’t want that?

So, we moved toward one another, which was a feat in and of itself, because we resided in different states….choosing to travel every couple of weeks across the country to be together and spending hours on the phone talking late at night. 

And when we first shared our relationship with others, it was easy to see that it could have been seen as just a little bit crazy….the miles that separated us and the gumption that it took on a daily basis to cultivate our relationship.  Maybe it was, and maybe, just maybe all of that work taught us how to value what is important and how to actively move towards what we already know is best for ourselves.  And subsequently, best for others, because we thrive as human beings where love is present.

We used to send songs to one another, almost on a daily basis, a practice that still continues today.  One morning, he sent me a song by Trevor Hall. “Origami Crane.”  I listened to it over and over on my drive to the school that day, quickly deciding it was my new favorite, and literally sang it down the hallway leading to my office.  I used to enjoy getting to school earlier than expected, so I had time to prepare for first period, and that morning was no different, so I allowed the song to continue as my inner soundtrack as I worked.  A few minutes later, in walked one of my more quirkier students who used to bring me interesting gifts.  There had already been a fish from the creek in a mason jar, homemade Oreos with strange centers, and other thought-provoking presents that made me smile.  And this day in particular, she walked in with the bottom of her shirt pulled up, cradling gifts that she was ready to present.  She didn’t say a word…just dropped about 15 handmade origami cranes onto my desk.  I audibly gasped.  There was no way to deny this little miracle.  It was a way for the universe or God to say, “Wake up and listen, chick!”  There is love around you.  Your funny student is a gift.  And this man is beautiful.  Hang on to all of that, sister.  Hang on with all your might. 

(I still listen to the song regularly.  I still have the cranes. And to my student, I thank you.) 

And so, that’s what I did.  That’s what we both did.  We hung on mightily. 

He moved to Austin.  We got married.  We blended our families, which included reuniting our parents who hadn’t seen each other in 25 years and bringing together all of our children…eight in total.  And nothing so far has made us question whether or not we made the right decision.  Not even my drinking. 

I wouldn’t say that he is the reason that I got sober. There are many reasons why I made that decision.   I just know that the acceptance I feel from him on a daily basis, encourages me to show up in every way. 

Yes, we look at how there was some enabling.  Those are important things to look at, and we both don’t want to make the same mistakes again, on either side, so we’ve openly discussed them.  That’s the key.  There’s nothing that we can’t discuss.  Believe me, we’ve talked through some tough matter, and when love and rational thought are present, a couple can move through obstacles that seem unmovable.  Just think about summers and holidays with eight children.  Um…..yes, we do it.  It’s not for the faint of heart.  It’s for the full of heart.

We acknowledge and celebrate what is present. Absolute, mutual respect and honesty.  Because we accept the other person fully, expect the same in return, with no strings attached, and trust the other person to make decisions that will lead to growth. 

I work alone most of the time.  My personal steps toward recovery do not hinge on his encouragement or proposed bottom line.  I know that what I practice daily is helping me, and he trusts me to do that work.  But the regular practices that have become a part of my being, affect everyone around me, all the time.  When I was in rehab, he asked me if he could just be mad for a little bit.  The answer was a resounding, “Yes.  Please do whatever you need to do for yourself.  I will listen.”  I gave him that freedom, just as he trusted me to do what I needed to get stronger. 

To say that our relationship is stronger now is an understatement.  He always treated me as an equal, but I suppose that I feel more worthy of the trust that is inherent in that. 

Vulnerability is not weakness, but we must choose wisely who we bear our innermost selves to.  I just feel supremely grateful that I am able to do so with the person that lies next to me each night. 

And yes, sometimes we are naked.