…and so we sat there in silence in what seemed to be an eternity. In reality, it must’ve been a couple of hours.
I can usually withstand or, rather, enjoy silence in the presence of another person, as long as we have attained a comfort level with one another. But this was a person to whom I was too close and it was also the kind of silence that I absolutely dread… the kind of silence that ensues from my inability to say what I need to say.
My inability to be weak.
I toot honesty, vulnerability and the like all the time like unnegotiable characteristics that all persons should possess. I almost believe it, too. As much as I do, whenever I’m faced with an actual situation, I am shocked at how much I am paralyzed, shut down, freeze up, run the other direction as far as I can go until the other person doesn’t know what the hell happened to me. Then I turn around, I look around and wonder why I seem to have escaped to a deserted island with only me on it.
I want another chance. I want another go at this. Desperately. But must this be the only route? I soon begin to realize if I do not say it, this will be the end of the relationship. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow. But it will be the end of us.
So I gather up my ego, pride, fear, doubts and anything else getting in the way of closeness, intimacy, knowing, being true and I swallow. Hard. Then I muster up any bit of courage that I have in my bones, any sense of wanting to grow, any desire to go deeper with this person and I hold it all in my frail little hands.
Then I say,