Yesterday, a friend messaged me to say that she’d given someone information about my work as a Life Coach:
I gave your info… to one of my dearest friends. She is married and has two kids. She just this morning wrote the words for the first time…’I am gay…and I am terrified.’
And just like that I was naked again, folded up on the elegant tile floor of a walk-in shower that I had designed myself just months before. The remodel was needed, mostly, I think to save our marriage, the way some people have a baby because that will make them something that they suspect they are supposed to be.
Remodeling the outdated space also gave the downstairs a half-bath, evicting the four children and their slew of friends from the bathroom that led directly into our bedroom. It was a major renovation, which turned the biggest bedroom in the house into a true master suite… and when I left, the Master let the children use that bathroom anyway. He had a broken heart and filled it with whoever was around. First, that was me and in my absence, filling that damned shower with the children was a move necessary for his survival.
I understand him because that shower nearly killed me, too. At least, I begged it to on the night in question.
I’d been out with a friend and came home with the truth, MY TRUTH, pulsing through my veins. It wasn’t about her, it was me… the real me. I kept the real me locked up in a secret room in my mind and I’d in time, I’d told the friend about my truth, showed her where the real me was being held. She wasn’t the first person I showed. In fact, I’d revealed my truth to many and yes, even my husband. He thought it was novel, I believe, and containable because of that nice room I kept her in, but this friend...