Two Friends at the Table

Day 8. I’ve been on UK soil for over a week now. I’ve spent the morning drinking coffee in the sunroom, overlooking the small, but lush and enclosed garden. And as I listen to the bulldogs snore, I’m reflecting on the week, as well as the time leading up to such an anticipated trip- so planned and yet also somewhat hasty in its formation. It’s all a bit jarring really.

To think that a week ago I was waking up in my hotel at Gatwick Airport, terrified at what was in front of me. Two months ago, I was waking up on an air mattress in my mother’s living room, terrified at what was in front of me. Four months ago, I was waking up somewhere between Phoenix and Santa Fe, terrified of what was in front of me.

Catching a pattern? Don’t misunderstand me. It’s not like I’ve been timidly roaming the earth, shivering in shadows and startling at any sudden movement. I hope those who’ve spent any amount of time with me over the last few months can attest to this.

Funny thing about fear though, it seems to be skilled at adapting to its environment. It could care less where we are, what we’re doing, or any of the other emotions swirling in our gut at that given moment. He’s a sticky, relentless little bastard, ever gnawing its way to the front of our heart. I swear, it’s like he’s sitting right in front of me at this little table, leering, licking his lips in anticipation, slimy palms pushing off the table ready to make his move. Because he knows at the front he’ll get in the way of good decisions and true emotion and any sort of substantial progress.

I’ve had my moments of facing Fear well, pushing past the debilitating shivers or nausea, glaring back and saying ‘No, thanks very much.” I got here didn’t I? But I’ve also let him win too. Even in the past week I’ve chosen petty distraction or simple procrastination over opportunity to stretch or grow or heal.

But there’s more than one extra chair at this table. Gratitude is here too. She’s pointing at the exceptionally good coffee next to me, the bulldog that looks like Pooh Bear at my feet, the career and my clients that I adore, the people that support and love me, and the world outside that is broken and difficult to face at times, but also beautiful and buzzing with possibility. ​

So, as I move into the second week of this adventure, I’ll be pulling her chair closer, allowing her soft nudges to bring clarity and peace. Fear on the other hand? Well I’m dragging his chair to the side of the room. Can’t quite make him leave yet, but today he’s looking a bit smaller in his, sad useless little corner.