Quaked

On Monday, as I was writing the last post, Count the Cost, the boyfriend was receiving the first of two ground shifts that have shaken his accessible past into rubble. He has to move on whether he’s ready or not because God, ‘the universe’ — or whatever name you want to give the understanding that sometimes our life paths are changed by things out of our control — shut the doors for him.

He woke this morning in the Pre-disaster Phase of the second shift — looking back, validated in knowing that he saw the signs of the quake coming. He just hadn’t known when it was going to hit.

So, I went last night to sit with him through the stun, the Phase of Disaster Occurrence, and listened this morning to his looking back. And I will continue to sit with and listen to, supporting him in his recovery.

But, as I drove home, I looked back on my quake and felt the sting of how I’d had to go through it alone. Because he was part of what quaked me, instead of sitting with me and understandingly listening to and supporting me, I had to, first, convince him that it was a quake for me while I went through the phases on my own.

Leading up to and going through this quake, he has been experiencing my experience with him and thankfully it’s not lost on him. After four years, I’ve learned that he and I come to understanding differently. I come to it intellectually, he comes to…