Opening myself up to being seen. Truly seen.
I am fearful. Fearful that you won't like me if you really knew me. That you would see something that would make you shun me. That even though I apologize or repent that you would abandon me.
I can tell I am afraid because as I lose more weight, the desire to hold onto my shield is strong. My shield has protected me for a long time. Most recently, the shield has gotten heavier. The insulation, that layer of fat protecting my heart, has grown thicker in the last few weeks. Why? I ask myself.
Is it a comfort? Not really.
My integrity is out. I promised my brother that I would handle the paperwork surrounding my mother's death in a timely manner. Yet each time I approach the pile, I find that cleaning the bathroom, shoveling the snow off the sidewalk, or organizing a holiday cookie drive is more attractive than keeping my word. Then before I know it, the sun has gone down, it's time to make dinner, eat, clean, spend time with my man, get ready for bed and sleep. Blessed sleep.
Finally I can avoid the office no longer. I venture in to get an envelope. A lilting pile of paperwork and unopened mail catches my eye. A heavy sigh escapes and deep sense of sadness pervades. I am unable to approach it. I see it, promise myself that I will do it today, this weekend, this month!
Pride stands in the way. I can do it! I am strong! I said I would do it! "My brother already has a bad opinion of me. This will just make it worse!", I grumble. Guilt and a sense of failure I wear like a cloak. The pounds creep up and my sense of failure weighs heavily. I am now convinced that each pound gained is physical proof that I am a failure.
"Enough!", I cry!
"Call your brother and tell him you cannot do it! You simply are not ready to deal with your mother's death. You do not need to be superwoman!", a friend lovingly coaches.
I find the courage and call. As the phone rings, my mind swirls with fear. Will he be upset that I have saddled him with the burden? Will he think less of me? Will this be the thing that widens the chasm our relationship?
He answers. Tears stream down my face and I struggle to speak. "Hi, it's me. I just wanted to let you know that I have been unable to do Mom's paperwork. I know I can, but I am not. Each time I try -- it will be days or weeks later and still not done. I do not want to disappoint you, but I promised to have it done." "Just put it together in an envelope and mail it. Don't worry, I'll take care of it.", he says. His voice is sweet. My dear brother. The one I love so much and yet am so far from.
It's been a month since that conversation and just today I asked my husband to sit with me. To keep me company and ensure that I did not step away this time. With his patience, I managed to put relevant sticky notes on the paperwork, make copies of letters, and label the envelope.
A weight has been lifted.
Tomorrow, I drive to the post office!
