- Being able to hold my tongue (most of the time)
- Cuddling with my boys
- Hope for a better future
- A supportive mom
- My therapist
- My faith
- People posting resources online
- Small towns
Several months ago my therapist asked me what I wanted. I wasn’t really sure.
He told me to find my voice.
I wasn’t sure what that even meant. Isn’t it that sound I make when I talk? The one that sounds so horrible when someone records it and plays it back?
I’m still not sure exactly what I want. I have a vague, hazy idea. It used to be better defined.
I wanted to be with my family. To be able to spend time with them.
I wanted to move to a small town. I wanted to buy some land outside of town and build a house.
I wanted to start a few internet businesses. I wanted to work from home.
I wanted to help other people. I wanted to make a difference.
I still want those things. I never had a clear idea of how to get there.
Now it’s even less clear.
I’ve found my voice in another way. I’ve found a way to express myself.
I hope it will help me get what I want.
It was Sunday night. I’d just moved into my dorm. Classes hadn’t started yet.
I graduated from high school a few months before that.
I didn’t have any friends there. I was alone.
I went for a walk that evening. As I was walking I noticed a girl wandering around. I kept my distance.
Then she came up to me. She had a feeling she should come talk to me.
We walked and talked for a while, getting to know each other.
We went back to her dorm. She introduced me to her roommates, who I became friends with.
I started spending more time with her. I started having feelings for her.
We went to school dances together. I’d never danced with a girl who wanted to dance with me before.
Later we were alone in her living room. I was sitting in a chair. She was sitting on my lap. We were talking and our lips brushed against each other.
Most guys would have kissed her. I’m not most guys. I’d never kissed a girl. Well, not since first grade, anyway…
I burst out laughing.
Things slowly went downhill after that.
I didn’t see her at all during Christmas break.
I wrote her a long, rambling letter. In the letter I said I loved her. I slipped it in her bag before she went home for a long weekend in January.
She wrote me a short note. She said she was sorry, but she didn’t feel the same way.
I was devastated.