Fear factor.
I’m quite competitive and have always suspected I’d do a good job — making it into the Finalist round at a minimum — in many strategy-based reality shows. Back when formerly known as my Mr. Big — currently known as Mr. Ex — & I were an item, we fantasized about tagteaming on The Amazing Race. We’re both natural-born leaders and figured two is better than one.
But Fear Factor…that one would eat me alive. My tastebuds are wussies. And frankly, who really enjoys being scared? I don’t even watch horror films. Life throws enough curve balls my way already, I’m not going to intentionally spin my spirit into a tizzy.
Which brings me to the current state of my singlehood union. Many moons ago I was diagnosed with an adjustment disorder. I believe it was circumstantial, at the time, and was based on some situations I was going through. But all in all, I really don’t enjoy change, period. And just like avoiding being freaked out…similiarly, who really enjoys unplanned directional re-routing?
Not me.
So here I am once again, trying to navigate my way through unchartered territory, with 31 years of experience under a waist-defining belt. I’ve read countless self-improvement books, prayed my little heart out, talked at length with comrades over cocktails. And yet, I still don’t know what I’m doing. There are no user manuals for, well, life.
But at the same time while I don’t have a blueprint, Magic 8 Ball, or a Psychic on hand, showing me step by step what to say, how to act, and at what pace…I do feel at peace. Feeling at peace, I believe, is when you follow your heart.
Breathe and be still.
Mr. Ex and I have continued to talk, at length, and I continue to — on both a micro and macro level, see…practically taste a change in his being’s essence. He looks the same. But that’s about it. The inner layers have surfaced and for the first time in a decade, I can finally see through him. I guess that’s what happens after someone actually sees themself in a mirror for the first time; they become transparent.
Words are all I used to have, and hear. They eventually became Charlie Brown teacher speak, blah blah blah — wah wah wah. Now it is only action.
The man is under a microscope too. Literally.
Every single facet of his life is at my fingertips. Which brings me to my next milemarker.
When someone has betrayed you, they take something that is sacred. How do you ever get it back? It’s like losing your virginity, it’s gone, forever. Sure you can become born again, or celibate, but it’s only a bandaid. The ability to give someone yourself and believe they’ll handle with care, only to be left jilted, is hard to bounce back from.
I’ll tell you what you do though…you allow the person in question to strip their entire personal files, passwords, access entries, phone messages…and share them with you.
There are no secrets. No privacy. There is even a GPS tracking program set-up on the mobile device so real-time locations can be confirmed at the stroke of a keyboard. All for the chance at fostering renewed trust.
Now *that* sounds like a true reality show. Complete insanity to me, and against any and all comfort levels in my typically non-stalker, non-invasive core. But it’s not a reality show, it’s just reality. “Is this the kind of life you want to lead?” people ask me. Hell no. Right now though, it’s my life, and a means to an end…one way or the other.
That is where we’re at. Correction. That is where he is at. To start step 1 of an action plan to rebuild. Day by day. Hour by hour. Minute by minute. Nothing more, nothing less. And my heart says, let him. Let him do the work. Let him show up. Let him walk the walk. Let him manifest the alleged renewal he speaks of.
Let him have the courage he proclaims to possess… to take ownership, accountability, and make a change. I’m willing to at least watch.
Meanwhile, my own plan of attack is to live a life of no regrets, and face fears — in the name of Love.
