Holding Hands
Day 26Such A Simple Way To Connect
My heart was under lock and key
I can trace the opening of my heart to a specific date and place. The process started earlier than that, of course. Pinpointing a specific date for that is much more difficult. Perhaps it started when I was looking at mindset techniques and practices, which revolved around wealth generation, although that was a very purpose-driven development. Maybe it started years before that, unknowingly, when I decided I should want Shirley to be happy with her new partner. Possibly, it was before then, even, when I got over my anger at being left and admitted to myself that I had a big role in that, and that the least I could do was learn was from the experience. Maybe that’s when I began to mature. Maybe that’s when my mind started to open and I began to take personal responsibility. Maybe my mind started to open then, but through all those times, my heart was under lock and key.
I was investing a lot and liking the returns
Arrival at Penno in February of 2019 was when I first came under intense scrutiny and questioning. You had been working hard, gleaning small nuggets of insight here and there, as I deigned to toss them out like feeding bread to ducks. But the work had been done remotely and mostly in writing. Now you started in earnest, and I was unable to hide by ending a phone call or closing the laptop.
Slowly, like an angler, you cast your fly. You watched it float across the surface until I struck, then you worked me patiently and skilfully, gradually drawing me out and reeling me in.
Close friendship developed. Quickly. Deep friendship, from my perspective. I was investing a lot and liking the returns. I didn’t know if you felt the same way, although it was obvious we got along together. I was captivated by the friendship, at the same time examining myself more and more. Then came the Power To Achieve seminar in Melbourne. →
Always off-limits
Yet I never considered holding your hand in the early days. Ours was patently a no-contact relationship. While I was living at Penno, hugging – as I recall it, at least – happened rarely. You were looking for dates and dating, so obviously I was not on your radar.
I remember you telling me about one of these dates and how to-told-or-not-hold hands was a serious decision. I think there was even some discussion about it with the guy. Should we or shouldn’t we? Even if there wasn’t a discussion, it was still a big move for you in a developing relationship. No, Jessica, in our relationship, you were always off-limits when it came to sustained contact.
I first realised how much I enjoyed our relationship during this period, when I felt my spirits lift upon being told your latest date didn’t work out.
I remember being thankful one day for the fact that I shared your house. I came up the stairs and Sasha was in the lounge. Reading, or something. I interrupted her to tell her that I really enjoyed living there and appreciated that she accepted me. That’s alright, she said. About two weeks after that, you told me that she told you she wanted me to leave.
I was very, very disappointed. I felt a bit foolish, too, considering what I had said to her just a couple of weeks previously, but it made me realise how big a part of my life you had become. →
Tracing the start
Feeding ducks
Patience
Off limits
A target of convenience
P2A, as you know, was the catalyst for emotional release. It was the key that unlocked the self-imposed chains that kept my heart safe and secure from damage.
What you may not know is that when I returned from Melbourne, I stared at you quite a bit. Surreptitiously, of course. Having decided I should allow myself to love, I looked at you through different eyes. I immediately asked myself, “is Jessica the one I should love?” You were an obvious target. Yet even as was looking at you asking myself the question, I recognised that you were such an obvious target, I wondered if you were simply a target of convenience. I decided I need to be patient with myself.
Hand-holding episodes
When I worked at Mt.Thebarton and struck up a friendship with Katrina and some others who worked there, occasionally we would socialise. On one occasion, the girls from the office – Katrina, Mel, Sarah – and I went from work to drinks somewhere in Norwood. Mel and Sarah were best friends and went in one car. I drove Katrina. We parked not far from the pub and walked a short distance, and I remember we held hands as we walked. Quite unselfconsciously. When we got to the pub, she went in ahead of me and that was the end of the hand-holding. I might add, she had a steady boyfriend at the time, who is now her husband and father of her children, and I was old enough to be her father.
On one visit to Taree about five years ago, Bianca – now 15 – thought I was fabulous. She had been fed stories of this amazing Uncle her mother had told her about. And here I was. One day, a few of us drove to a nearby town where there was some show with all sorts of stalls and displays. Bianca was clinging to me like a limpet and took my hand as we walked around. It felt lovely to do that.
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More than a friend
From the time I left, hugs became more de rigeur. Meeting you at the market was the highlight of my week if we weren’t meeting at any other time. I remember driving away from the market feeling bereft. I think it was the first market after I’d moved out. I was living at Bernie’s place. That was the first time I admitted to myself that you were more than just a friend to me, that my feelings for you were deeper. Yet I had no intention of making any declarations or admissions. We were playing a non-contact sport, you and I.
Saying goodbye at the orphanage, I hugged you and told you I loved you. I had not really steeled myself to do this, I don’t think. It wasn’t something I had planned in advance. I really did mean that I Ioved you as a friend, but you were a friend unlike any I have had before. I felt so connected to you. I was so happy that you wanted us to catch up regularly and frequently and were happy to spend a whole day with me.
I felt jealous if anyone would encroach on my “alone time” with you. I resented Ben drawing your attention away and having 1-on-1 conversations with you. I made an effort to engage Ben in conversation so that I could concentrate on him and not watch you. Either my feelings would become obvious, or – worse – I would look creepy.
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Open and honest. Mostly.
I had told you before – likely on more than one occasion – that I was not looking for or interested in a romantic relationship with anyone. At the time I said this, it was true. I don’t think I ever said it post P2A. I think you misinterpreted my protestations about us not being partners as being the same as not wanting a relationship. I had a number of quite clear messages from you that we had – and would retain – a platonic relationship. I saw you as emotionally fragile, still healing after the end of your relationship with Roland. I wanted you to know that I was not an emotional threat to you, thus I reinforced that message on odd occasions. →
So here was Tim 2.0, telling you most of my thoughts and feelings, being open and honest apart from this sequestered compartment. A tactile being. Determined to preserve what I had. And here was you, close and alluring, loving me as a friend, but not as a man. And we’re playing a non-contact sport. Is it any wonder that I wouldn’t ask you to hold hands? Or even discuss the subject in the abstract?
“I remember being thankful one day for the fact that I shared your house. I came up the stairs and Sasha was in the lounge. Reading, or something. I interrupted her to tell her that I really enjoyed living there and appreciated that she accepted me. That’s alright, she said. About two weeks after that, you told me that she told you she wanted me to leave.” Maybe that was the catalyst because on some level she could have thought you were going to usurp her position. I was crestfallen when she said, I thought about excuses but I had to honour her request, and consider it brave that she had asked.
I was teary when I left for Goolwa, you wouldn’t be home when I returned. But, now, in hindsight, it was the best thing that could have happened. It moved us to a new place. Our hearts grew fonder, you were able to see and know that you were important to me. We both looked forward to our sleepovers, but you were still guarded, there were plenty of things that suggested to me that you were not interested in anything more. Still, that now becomes part of our interesting history.
More to mull…
Sometimes I close my eyes and gently, ever so gently, unite each of the pads of my fingers to their counterpart on the other hand. After a time all ten fingers are just touching, perfectly in the sweet spot, and there is harmony. This is my strongest memory of our four nights. Our fingers finding their counterparts, gently finding where they absolutely perfectly connect. It reminds me that you and I were “we” for quite a long time and then we became “us”.
‘night, Sweetfeet.xx