Yesterday I put up this stuff about being known. About stepping closer and letting our real selves be known all the ugly and the good mixed together. I put that up but knew I hadn’t really done that, or hadn’t been living that in a while. I’ve been reading the hope diaries, this brave courageous women whose sharing all her dark stuff, and this post about letting go weighed heavily on me. Stuff was suffocating me and I really needed a safe person to unload on. I didn’t have the guts to actually call someone but I did pray. I asked God to send someone.
Ten minutes after I hit publish on my post there was a knock on the door. It was already dark, dinner was over, kids were settling in, who would be knocking on my door? It was my safest person, the one who gets me, even though we are so very different. The one who listens without judgement, because she know she can’t throw stones. The one who I bonded with when we lived next door to each other for four years and even though we lived in such close proximity for that time she still likes me.
I dragged her immediately back out the door and we headed for the coffee shop. After some chit chat, which is never about the weather, she asked me a question and we had to leave. The next half an hour was spent with me spilling out all my stink in her van. Eyes and nose dripping all over, mopped up with Mcdonalds napkins, and her just listening looking concerned but never patronizing, validating but not excusing.
And I could breathe. Finally.