This Sunday morning, my girlfriend found out her father suffered a heart attack.
We were rearranging the furniture in our apartment when he texted her to call him ASAP. She broke down and cried for a while. She said she must go to her hometown and visit him.
I supported her to go through the rising up of her emotions. I didn’t assume that she wasn’t in a state to make decisions on her own.
But she couldn’t let her feelings flow at this point, and I got confused. She went into a frozen mode, staring into space. It was a raving silence—like she had been paralyzed in her thoughts.
Then I froze up myself.
My energy fell and my brain started to calculate how to organize our trip to her hometown. Trying to combine my Monday morning business meeting with this new reality.
I didn’t show up for her.
Her silence triggered me and I lost the connection with my breath and body. This sucking pattern blocked my capacity to feel her. The groove of her silence makes me check out.
We spent the next hour trying to reconnect and make a plan together.
With a slice of guilt. A soup of sadness. A portion of anger. A little bit of frustration for dessert.
I took the wheel and made up a plan for us to take separate bus rides. I could go after her with our dog only when she finishes the visit to her old man because there was no carpooling service and the first bus was already full. (Fucking car. I’m not a driver.)
I took a cab. It was seven minutes before the bus departed. It’s a 12-minute drive. The driver was angry because of the dog. Once I arrived there, the bus was already leaving.
Me and Lola jumped in front of it. I waved to the driver. He opened the door and gave me the What the fuck are you doing? face expression. I smiled and said: “Hi, we need to be on this bus!” He said dogs are not allowed. I told him she’s a very invisible dog and entered the bus. (I should drive us more. Fuck semi-important business meetings.)
God will take care of the fundamentals. She’s my priority now.
Feeling her is my salvation.
Am I ready to hold the wheel and take us to the next level?
I’m writing this on the bus. I’m meeting her in 15 minutes.
Looks like her father is going to be fine. First reports are optimistic.
I think to myself: Am I ready to break the world fucking records and bleed even more for the sake of our relationship?
Yet, I’ve never grown without a scream.
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