Discovering I have anxious attachment issues was eye-opening. Combing through my childhood with Brandi, I discovered my parents didn’t give me the attention I needed. It wasn’t their fault; I had a twin sister, after all. When Lorelei showed signs of not wanting to be touched and held, that led to a lack of touching and holding on my end, but I needed it. It’s not my sister’s fault, either.It just is what it is. It’s the fallen world we live in. My parents loved me well. But when people started leaving my life (not intentionally, of course, and I keep reminding myself of that), the attachment issues really came out. It’s why I’ve cycled through men. It’s why I have developed a sex addiction.
I just want to be truly known and loved.
But now I know I am truly known and loved by the One who formed me. No earthly love could top that.
My therapist and friend leans forward, taking my hands in hers. Her green eyes hold mine as she smiles. “I’m not going to tell you what to do. Love him or leave him, that’s your decision. It’s between you, him, and the Lord solely. I’m here to support you. I’m here to give you practical and functional ways to help overcome the anxious attachment you’ve formed with him because no matter what you choose to do in regards to him, there’s no room for that in any relationship you may find yourself in—romantically or otherwise. I’m here to help you stay true to your morals and values because much of our self worth stems from our personal systems of belief.”
“So much for your help.” I jokingly roll my eyes.
“But,” Brandi begins, grabbing my attention again, “if no one has told you this before, allow me to be the first to. And if someone has, let me reiterate good, Biblical advice that would do you good to remember: Love does not start out as some mythical tether binding two souls to one another. Thechoiceto love someone forms a tether. The choice to follow God and keep Him at the center of your love strengthens the tether. Love is emotional and physical, but it is also a choice that is actively demonstrated.”
I press my lips together, nodding thoughtfully as she releases my hands and leans back. Hadley told me something similar before regarding her and Braxton. Yes, they had chemistry out the wazoo, but Braxton kept choosing to love her. She had to choose to believe herself worthy of love in order to accept the love he had to offer.
Karoline had to choose to forgive Mason for an act that scarred her. It was her love that allowed her to forgive him.
Finley had to choose to constantly pursue my sister without any evidence that she would eventually say yes to him. A blind choice. A selfless choice. He loved her through her own journey of self-awareness.
Choice. Worthiness. Forgiveness. Self-awareness. Selflessness.
Love.
That’s what it is… a choice to see someone’s worthiness, assist them in their daily journey of self-awareness, give selflessly, and forgive when wronged.
Stone and I may not be perfect, but we are chosen by God, deemed worthy of love, forgiven of our wrong-doings, and constantly being made self-aware through a lifelong process of sanctification only given to us by God’s selfless sacrifice of Himself.
Chance after chance, we fall and mess up. But sometimes we get it right. And maybe,just maybe,we can get it right together.
Typing ‘the end’ has never felt sosatisfying.
The merman and vampiric urban fantasies in my projects folder give me the bombastic side-eye as I sheepishly smile and remind them that I will complete them soon.
They don’t speak back, of course, because they are documents on a computer and I may be a little insane.
But what writer isn’t?
An idea resonated in my soul back in November, a thought to be more intentional and honest in my writing and on my social media. I’ve hinted at things to come to my readers, but today is the day I announce that I’ve put my urban fantasies on hold in favor of another romantic comedy. But this rom-com will be different. It’s my blood on a page. It’s my sins laid bare. It’s my head and heart split open for all to examine.
As they dissect the evidence I lay before them, will my readers resonate or will they hang me? Will they relate to the two very broken characters I’ve poured my experiences into, or will they deem me unworthy of calling myself a Christian? Will they understand that sometimes breakups are necessary and can actually bring two people towards a state of healing and reconciliation? Or will they burn the book because the happily ever after took a little too long to materialize?
Speaking of materializing my new book’s ending…
I really hope there’s something to this manifestation stuff.
Just kidding, folks. Don’t come at me with your pitchforks.
I close my laptop, pick up my phone from the armchair, and scroll through social media for a minute before posting the announcement that I have a new rom-com book coming out on the first day of spring. I mention it’s different from my previous worksand has a darker undertone of sin represented, but I don’t say anything more. Not yet, at least.
After I hit post, I do the opposite of what the algorithm would suggest and close out social media. I check the time, which is almost five in the evening.
Stone should be home now.
Nervous energy swirls inside of me as I stand from my trusted brown recliner chair and head to the bathroom to freshen up. As I swipe mascara on my lashes, I send a silent plea that it won’t run down my face later. More like a prayer that there won’t be a reason for it to. I style my natural curls half up-half down, and just to look my cutest, I add a simple white ribbon to the back. Taking one last look in the full-length mirror, I compliment my simple torn boyfriend jeans and off the shoulder floral crop-top with a brave smile.
“You’ve got this, Lucy May.” I wink at myself for good measure then spritz my perfume on my neck, in my hair, and down my body. Once I’m back in my bedroom, I say three kind words to my new purple orchid Karoline bought for me during her last visit.
Thankfully, Frannie has yet to eat this one.
Feeling a little more confident with my dolled-up armor in place, I grab a water, my purse, smile at the now-thriving Bird of Paradise plant beside the door that Lorelei revived during her visit over Thanksgiving, and exit the apartment.
