This last week I had such an awkward trigger.
You know what my triggers are like? They're little events that flip on a little switch that illuminate an ENTIRE ROOM FULL of related bologna.
After I double-sneezed a few days ago, my 5 year old son raised his eyebrows, "Mom, do you have issues?"
Yes, son. But you'll learn more about that when I pay for your therapy in 15 or 20 years.
I want so desperately to feel safe in my marriage. I want so desperately to feel safe... period. I don't want to stifle my hunger for safety and security because I believe it's natural and wonderful to need it. A life without that desire seems kind of, well, scary and cold and something that creeps in the alley of a Tim Burton film.
The thing is: when I'm around other men I feel safe with, my brain takes hold and goes to places I seriously hate... I hate that they're there, I hate that I feel them, I hate that I GO TO THEM.
I just kneel and say, "God, I have these feelings where I WANT safety with this person, and I ended up listening to that old song and facebook searching for that old boyfriend, and although I hate that I'm feeling and thinking these things, the fact of the matter is... I AM."
I then call my sponsor who says, "You're human."
What a thing to be.
I can deny it all I want, but at the end of the day -no matter what mirror I'm looking in -I'm human. I'm a hurt human, a funny human, a human who hurts other humans, a flawed human, a lovely human with lovely imperfections, a human with needs.
And I need safety.
My body needs safety.
My brain, my soul, my ME needs security.
I can find it all when I turn myself over to God which is both exhilarating and terrifying, one of those "so glad I did it even though I didn't want to" kind of experiences.
Like cliff jumping?