Learning for the Hope of a Lionheart

Learning for the Hope of a Lionheart
The world did not end in rapture Saturday, after all. A world as I knew it ended, but not in that dramatic Armageddonish way, but in a way that had me racing toward higher ground, nonetheless. Guy and I have not spoken since the sushi debacle two weeks ago. I got a text message from him Friday, confirming that we had no future as a long term relationship, and that he had nothing to say to me. Which, totally sucks. Sucks so badly. How, exactly, does a litigator not have the courage to have this conversation with me? Our drama-factor doesn’t even place on the scale because there has been no drama. So, how does a man who manages conflict and tough negotiations for a living not have the ability to dignify the end of something he claimed was significant to him?


I could have clawed the skin off my spine I so desperately needed to crawl out of my skin. Being the girl who does not draw out drama but instead is the one who just disappears after a break up, I needed to remove myself from Phoenix, and I wanted to get some raw and heavy feedback. Leaving my friend at happy hour, I darted out of the resort and, mission minded, found a phone number, and made a phone call.
I would only ever spend a moment with the man if it really were the end of the world, so (quite perversely) it was the weirdest and randomest thing that I called Jack. That HE would be someone to whom I would run. This man… had deeply hurt me. And I was hell bent to – if he were willing – to cut open some scars for the sake of sewing them back up to heal better. By the time I made that phone call at 8:30, he answered the phone, completely  shocked to see my name on his caller ID. He responded to my request to see him, completely shocked, and he (more graciously than I imagined) agreed that I could come up. I clarified I intended to drive up that very night, fully knowing I would not get there until midnight, and I would have to drive through the black desert night and through nordic woods for two and a half hours, in the late night.
And I knew, this move had the potential to be one of the most self-destructive acts I could do to myself if this journey went badly. Hitting an elk in the stretch of road between Flagstaff and Kendrick Park was the least of my concerns. I was worried about the possible spider web that could be waiting for me.
Pulling up his drive, I wondered how I would be able to even step out of my car. He carried my bag into his house, lit a fire (how I love the smell of juniper), poured me a glass of wine, and patiently waited for me to open up about why I (A) called him (B) insisted to drive up and stay with him (C) held myself in a nearly fetal position (D) and took over an hour to finally start to speak. As I spoke, a man to whom I refused to ever let him see me cry, I wept as I alternately spoke and swallowed my words.
I asked the question to which I was afraid of the answer: “what dysfunction do I bring in a relationship?Jack did the first truly honorable thing for me that did not have his own agenda tied to his action. He groaned, leaned back on his chair, and wiped his face with his hands. This was sooooo not the conversation he wanted to have. He spoke honestly, and while the truth hurts, I listened. Without defensiveness, without self-judgment. By 4:00 am, both of us exhausted, he brought me extra blankets for the guest bedroom. I instantly fell asleep, too tired to even take off my clothes I was still wearing form work.
Saturday morning, after he made me breakfast and invited me to stay, I realized I had my closure with him, and I had a takeaway of a lesson. I had acquired what I drove in the middle of the night to get, and I got what I wanted. Old wounds were so they could heal better. I slayed a couple of demons… was affirmed in the value I do bring in relationships and build in a partner. Although that night was scary as shit, I had the guts to put logic aside and just go with my gut. From the information about me that I got, that escapade was not for naught.
I needed space, I needed perspective, I needed a change of my view. I don’t know why, but I just think better up here.

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1 Comment

  1. Anonymous
    May 23, 2011 / 11:52 am

    Jenni, we are always learning about ourselves….I love you! Aunt Cathy

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