One type of therapy I’m in (*counting* Out of 6?!) is Trauma-Informed Yoga Therapy. Thus, because I looked up the meaning of her real name to give a nickname for privacy, my yoga therapist’s official nickname as of this morning is: Grace. Hi, I hope you like the nickname! Thank you for reading my blog! It means so much to me that you took the time and effort to read and learn more about who I am and the things I’ve gone (and still go) through. Your patience, being fully engaged in listening to my word vomit, and kind and supportive words for the suffering and strength in me… were healing and encouraging in one of the lowest points I’ve endured. (P.S. My middle name is the same as yours!)
I’m inspired to report that Giving Grace (the act, not the therapist, lol) is an excellent theme for today’s post. Not just because of my therapist’s well-deserved nickname, but because last night’s check-in with The Boyfriend was a massive… plot twist?!
So Sayeth Google: Giving grace means showing kindness, compassion, and understanding, especially when someone makes a mistake or falls short of expectations. It’s about offering forgiveness and a chance to recover without judgment. It can also involve accepting limitations and imperfections in oneself and others. Essentially, it’s choosing to treat people with love and acceptance, even when they haven’t earned it.
Five grueling days of internal agony and suffering from the rough words The Boyfriend spoke to me (The worst of them: “I don’t want the addiction OR the relationship” and “Go fuck yourself!” 😨💔😭) and the discovery of weeks of Relapse and lies that rang in my head repeatedly… the high anxiety, heavy weight on my heart and spirit, the despair and fear of abandonment… along with his resolute silence when I needed communication… whew… I can’t emphasize enough how phenomenally difficult that shit was. Another course of Betrayal Trauma accompanied by ALL those feels just about did me in.
After posting the shortest entry to date yesterday morning, I had time to sit and evaluate what I wanted to do, how I wanted to feel, and how I could possibly move forward. I resolved to do what I’ve done my entire life: give everything of myself to the betterment of someone else. The struggle to accept that I would choose to be “the strong one” – yet again – was visceral. I have wanted so desperately for someone to do the same for me my entire life that, when faced with the possible end of the relationship I’ve given so much for already, it feels like I’m giving up on myself. I’ve done this so many times and come out battered, broken, bruised, and beaten to near perma-napping myself. To say that I am scared shitless is a gross understatement.
And yeah… you probably think I’m absolutely insane for choosing this path. Trust me… I know I’m already there 🤣 Love is insanity in and of itself, sometimes. The idea that I could sacrifice so much for someone else IS nothing short of insane.
But you know what? I’m ok with that. I have made peace with it. Grace (yes, the therapist, this time) gave me the space I needed to vent everything, discover that I need some epic self care AND a purpose outside myself to move forward. And by the end of our session, I truly felt peaceful contentment and determination start to creep back in.
And theeeeen… the check-in. The defining moment in which the fate of my future hung in the Void. I asked if he would go first. (And I reiterate that the trauma of all this makes my memory akin to Swiss cheese – full of holes 😅)
He started off with an apology. I asked if he felt bad for getting caught or for his behavior (oddly, he felt both). At some point, he emphasized his deep regret and remorse for telling me to go fuck myself. I spoke about what I’d decided that morning and reiterated how much I love him. I admitted that I’d thought hard for days and finally came back to the understanding that he is NOT his addiction. He told me that – during all that time being “in his bullshit” (his words) – it was as if he were being scrutinized, as if he’d been shoved onto a stage and told to wing it on a topic he wasn’t prepared for, being exposed as a loser and a failure. I don’t see him that way, I see that he’s suffered from a fuck ton of trauma and pain, he hasn’t had the time or practice or a girlfriend that’s ever held him accountable for his “bullshit.” We laughed at the absurdity of calling it that and decided it was too degrading (and would get old real fast), and defaulted back to “being in the hole.”
When he told me that I needed to be patient during these times in the hole, a fire welled up inside me at the audacity, but… I chose to give him grace in that moment. I understood what he needed. I explained that what he was asking me to do was basically to set myself on fire and keep him warm, to accept the bullshit in stride and just deal with it until he’s capable of coming back to me. He didn’t like this analogy and expressed not wanting me to do that. I told him that if he promised me that he would ALWAYS come back to me after… I can and would do it every single time. He made that promise. I asked him if he can see how necessary the Recovery Program (specific to his addiction) is now. He agreed, so I asked him to reach out to Rick and start thinking about how we can pay for it. I’d already reached out to Katie (Rick’s wife) and posited the idea of me “working” for part of the cost. And thus… the ball for official help is rolling.
There’s a lot more to all that than what I’ve divulged, but I’ve already been awake for 3 hours and my eyelids are starting to droop.
I will close with this… when we finally went to bed, I asked him directly: “Do you want to move forward with me?” (the single, most important question I needed a solid answer to). He said that he does and… I believe I slept pretty decently after that (haven’t checked my ring-tracker app yet).
Stay tuned… the roller coaster hasn’t ended…
Who IS EnchiPants?! 