I'm sitting next to you on our little couch; our lunch on the table in front of us. A peaceful calm begins to settle within us as we're about to enjoy our meal together. You reach for something on the table...
Suddenly, a soft thud ricochets in my ears as your drink is knocked over... and I freeze. My body completely stiffens, and I'm as unmoving as a statue. My breathing is shallow and quick, but silent. My pulse is racing. My bulging eyes stare at the thick orange liquid as it oozes slowly, consuming the black tabletop wherever it spreads.
You're already in motion, calmly trying to clean up the spill. I can barely breathe. I watch you, my eyes wide and unblinking, as you soak up the liquid with a towel. I mentally remind myself -- you're not HIM. I tell myself to watch you carefully as you clean up. ~Breathe~ Observe. You're not angry. You're not being aggressive. ~Breathe~ You're simply cleaning up a spill. Calmly. My pulse is still racing. ~Breathe~ I can't move.
You see me and immediately register what I'm going through; and I hear your soothing voice. You tell me that you're okay. That you're not angry or upset. ~Breathe~ You keep reassuring me in soothing tones.
You sit back down next to me, and I'm still frozen with fear. Panic. Still not blinking, tears start to flow down my cheeks, and I realize that I'm shaking from head to toe. You keep gently telling me that you're okay. You're trying to soothe me. Somehow, I find the will to move enough to slightly nod. Over and over I nod, unable to stop this silent crying.
Finally, I manage to shudder broken whispers of "I'm sorry" again and again. You hold me close, wipe my tears as they continue to fall, and softly tell me that I have nothing to be sorry for. That you know it's not about you, that it's my mind still adjusting to my new normal. That my physiological reactions to any triggers aren't my fault. That you love and understand me.
Your voice, your tone, your touch, your loving energy, your words... your words bring me back. You quell the irrational panic within me, and I can breathe again.
I take some deep, cleansing breaths, and I remember that I don't have to walk on eggshells anymore.
Real love doesn't hurt, it heals.
