It’s my weekly session with Dr. Nor before I sneak off for a romantic weekend with Garrett. After my appointment, we’ll head to Palm Springs for the next three days—returning early Sunday afternoon so Garrett can make his virtual dinner date with his family.
“Rather, isolationwassomething Iknewall too well.” My mouth flexes into a contented smile.
The quiet loneliness that accompanied me for so long is a recently departed frenemy. It’s not with me—not like it used to be—but the memory still lingers as if a ghost was just waiting to jump around the corner to shout boo!
I curl my fingers around the porcelain cup, letting the heat soothe my angst. “I was the only disabled kid at my high school. Being the only one, people often pointed out all the ways I didn’t fit. Even my parents and Anker for a bit.” I sigh. “I was somehow too much and not enough all at the same time. Same thing in college, and that has continued until now.”
It seems indulgent to linger on the loneliness that once ached, given all I have now. Still, the memory of that pain twinges inside me like a dull, healing wound. But it’s there, nonetheless, reminding me of its existence.
“What makes you no longer feel that loneliness?” she asks.
My family. The girl gang I have with Catherine and Kayla. Garrett. Each is important, but they’re not the sum. At the root of my loneliness was a desire to be accepted by others—that I would fit. While I have people I fit with, they’re not the puzzle piece that snapped into place, making me whole.
“It’s me.” Sitting up straight, I tilt my head to meet what I’m sure is her assessing gaze. “My loneliness was due in part to my hesitation to put myself truly out there. I’ve been burned in the past, and I blamed myself at some level. I didn’t trust myself to make good choices about people.”
“It’s easy to pick the wrong people when they reinforce what we believe to be true about ourselves,” she says in her soft, but matter-of-fact tone.
“Yeah.” I swallow thickly.
It’s something we’ve talked about often in our sessions. It’s not just me picking the wrong people, but that I chose those who reinforced what I believed in myself; I’m not loveable. I’m too much. This doesn’t absolve anyone who hurt me, but it opens my eyes, so I don’t repeat old habits.
“I’m still a work in progress, but the woman who made those choices—who believed that—feels like someone I used to know, not who I am now.”
“What makes you trust yourself now?” she asks.
“Everything started to shift the night Miles ditched me. It wasn’t just him ditching me, but the moment I asked Garrett who Jenny Wren was. Deep down, I always knew Miles didn’t want me, but I didn’t admit it to myself. I just waited, hoping this time would be different. And it wasn’t.” I look into my teacup, the liquid contrasting with the white porcelain, allowing me to see the creamy brown color. “I know who Miles was, but I chose him. Just like with Chase.”
At that time, I’d been blind to those things. Chase never invited me over to his dorm. He always came to me, saying it was because I had a single. The few times we went out on what I thought were actual dates had been in different cities away from campus. With my new clarity, I realize he’d always been hiding me.
“I was deliberately blind to who they were, believing it was all I deserved. Though, at the time, I thought each time would be different. That if I were the right kind of girl, they’d want me. I’ve never quite fit… Over the last few months, I’ve realized I didn’t fit because I was trying to mold myself into what everyone else told me I should be.”
With each lap of this new course that I run, I am becoming more me than I’ve ever allowed myself to be. Training has unlocked something in me, allowing it to run free and untethered from the things that have long kept me at the margins of my own life.
“I waited for someone else to rescue me. To make me happy, but I’m my own hero, and as long as I trust myself, I’ll never be lonely.” Warmth—whether from the tea I’m drinking or my realization—spreads through me.
“Self-reliance is important. We carry the keys to our own happiness, but we often can’t unlock that door completely alone,” she points out. “Let the relationship with yourself set the tone for others, not replace them.”
I scrunch my nose. “That’s cryptic. What does that mean?”
“Balance.” She raises her hands as if saying “ta-da” causing me to snort. “The loneliness you’ve experienced speaks to the imbalance in your relationships—with yourself and others. Be your own hero but also let other people rescue you from time to time.”
“How do I do that?”
“Practice. Lots and lots of practice. Just like marathon training.” She waves at me. “It helps that you have good people in your life to do that with. To lean on when you need them and to pull back when you don’t. Above all, be open and honest about your feelings and desires. Being the full Jensen.”
The Full Jensen.For so long the idea of being unapologetically me in whatever setting I existed in terrified me. As Garrett’s deep laugh hums around me while I sing a totally made-up song with the lyrics “Yum, yum in my tum, tum” to a baby giraffe I’m feeding at the Living Desert, I love being the Full Jensen.
It’s not just that this man seems to adore every part of me, even the parts that frustrate him at times, but it’s how I feel. I am unapologetically me, and I may be falling just as hard for me as I am for Garrett.
“Am I your girlfriend?” I blurt.
“Ah…excuse me?” the giraffe attendant coughs.
“I believe that was directed to me,” Garrett says, his mouth likely ticked up into a half-smile.
Of late, I’ve noticed his normal firm line is replaced by half-smiles. It’s been confirmed by our friends, and I take full credit for it.
“Sorry”—I wince—“I’m sure you’re lovely, but I may or may not be taken.”
