I passed out on her table. Seriously. Out cold.
I had wandered in and told her of my difficulty sleeping the last few nights. The tossing and turning. The waking up multiple times throughout the evening.
The last few days, I've actually found myself awake before my alarm goes off. Which is unheard of for me. I am a girl who will sleep until noon if you let her.
Happily.
So I was explaining to Teeny my sleep issues, and she started plunging the needles in. Talking to me as my eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
Until suddenly – I woke up over an hour later. As she was removing those needles from my body.
I seriously love that woman.
Even though the session should have been over at that point (and even though it was the end of the day and she probably wanted to start her drive home) she had me roll over. So that she could work on a few points on my back that had been missed during my excessive slumber.
And we talked. About the year to come, my dark mental state as of late, and… about the boy.
She wanted to know if I had heard from Mr. Fix-It at all. If I had been having to fight the urge to call him myself. If I had been missing him.
And I told her the truth – I honestly haven’t been thinking about him. I haven’t been fretting about him, or pondering where his head is at, or wondering if there was some way to change his mind.
The man has literally just not been on my list of things to concern myself over.
Leaving me to wonder if perhaps he may have been on to something when he sat on those steps as I was exiting his home post breakup; the moment when he told me that it seemed as though I was relieved. I thought he was crazy at the time, but maybe… maybe somewhere deep down inside I already knew it wasn’t going to work. Maybe I was just waiting to see which one of us was going to say it first.
Yes, the rejection stung a little bit. But I’m over it. And I’m proud of myself, because the old me would have reacted much differently to finding out he didn’t want a relationship. The old me would have stayed curled up in bed with him after he made that proclamation. She would have set her sights on changing his mind. On manipulating him with sex, and baked goods, and sex.
And she would have failed. Probably not right away (in fact, she likely could have strung that faux relationship along for months), but eventually she would have failed.
And it would have been devastating.
I’m not that girl anymore though. He stated he didn’t want a relationship, I knew that I did, and so I left. I haven’t fought him on it, or tried to change his mind. No part of me has toyed with the idea of bargaining with him; manipulating to get him see the light. He didn’t want what I wanted, and so I left.
In a sense, I dumped him.
Because I think we all know I could have stayed. I could have accepted what he was offering. I could have just gone along with it.
In fact, that's exactly what the old me would have done.
But that's not what I did.
I left. I had enough respect for myself to acknowledge what I wanted, to say it allowed, and to not be willing to accept anything less.
(And thank you to the lovely Joanna for pointing this fact out to me, because in honesty – it wasn’t a distinction I had even realized myself initially).
I made a grown up decision. A grown up relationship decision.
And as Teeny and I discussed this, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.
I am changing. I am growing. I am respecting myself more.
In ways I don’t even necessarily realize in the moment.
And that’s when Teeny posed the question.
“So, what do you want?” She asked. “Who do you want?”
We talked about it for a minute. About the qualities I am looking for from Mr. Wonderful. The traits that I would like him to posses. The pieces that would all be a part of the whole in terms of the man of my dreams.
“Write it down.” She ordered. “Make a list, and send it into the universe.”
“Make it real.”
Teeny has told me this story before, but I grinned as she told it again. The story of her bad breakup last year, and the list she wrote for herself on New Year’s Eve. The one that was meant to foster healing and serve as a guideline she would refuse to deviate from the next time around.
She told me about how she carried that list in her purse that night, clinging to her qualifications for the next man she would give her heart to.
And at 1:30 in the morning, she lit that list on fire. Sending it out into the universe.
It was that night that she met her current boyfriend.
Or, I suppose I should say Fiancé now.
They're getting married this summer.
Make a list. And put it out into the universe.
(Courtesy of Google Images)
It sounds simple enough, right? A list of everything you want. Romantically, or otherwise.
A list that makes it clear you aren’t willing to settle for less.
A list.
I think I’m going to embrace my hippy nature and start working on my list. Reminding myself with each and every additional quality that this is what I deserve.
A man who can fit the mold. Instead of simply keeping the bed warm.
Make a list.
Send it off into the universe.
And know in your heart that it’s exactly what you deserve.
I’m going to start working on my list.
But what would you have on yours?
