“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them — words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a tellar but for want of an understanding ear.”
— Stephen King (Different Seasons)
“Sure, you’ve said things, that, at the time, were hard to hear. But I’m better for having heard them.”
One of the bravest things I’ve ever done was kiss my husband the first time.
I made the first move.
This was a new idea for me. Basically, we’d gone on a few dates, I kind of thought I knew where we were headed, and I was sitting on my living room floor and he offered to rub my shoulders for me (the universal signal for: I am interested and want to touch you but not quite sure how to go about it so I will give you a shoulder rub in an attempt to see if you are also amenable to touching.)
I let this go on for about 5 minutes and thought “I wonder when he’ll kiss me.”
And then I thought “Nuts to this. I’m just going to do it.”
And a thousand voices in me screamed to not be so stupid, to not risk it, that I’d be rejected, that I misunderstood, that he didn’t want me, that I was ugly, that he was just being nice that he was….that he was…that he was…
I grabbed him by the face and kissed him.
And he said “I was going to do that!”
I responded “Well, you should have moved faster.”
Some of the things that have been hardest for me to do are things I had to say. To people I loved, in one way or another. And I found I never regretted the things I said, I rarely regretted the things I did.
I only regretted the action not taken, the word unsaid. So, that night, sitting on the floor by my future husband I decided I was sick of regrets, sick of hiding what I felt, sick of being rejected before I ever began. I was going to go with my instincts.
My instincts were right. How delightful.
Hours of Sleep: 8 hours.
Exercise: Up and down stairs forever while wearing heels…ugh. I did 350 stairs today. That’s enough.
Breakfast: cup of tea, babybel cheese, orange juice, dried super fruit berries
Cleaning or Packing?: House showing tomorrow! Cleaned the upstairs for about an hour!
Made my bed?: Made it. Whatever bed, you’re not the boss of me.
Read 1 book a week: No progress on The Unauthorized Story of Walt Disney’s Haunted Mansion because I found a retold fairy tale book.
Its harder to write something when you’re in a good mood after a week of being moody and contemplative. And after eating THE most amazing pork chop you’ve ever had in your life. Also, your instincts are probably right more often than you think. Grabbing a handsome man who’s rubbing your shoulders and kissing him is generally a pretty great idea.