In the past I would have dealt with it the only way I know how: alone with sleep. Instead, without thinking I grabbed my phone, scrolled to my favorites and dialed his number.
I’m not much of a crier, but I sobbed and felt my breath come out of me at weird intervals as I told him what had happened. I didn’t want to be that emotional, that hysterical, but sometimes tears get the best of me. “How can they do this? I don’t have parents here, I don’t have anyone! What am I supposed to do now?” I sobbed on the other end of the line.
Calm words reached my ears from the other side, assuring me it would be ok. Did I want to come over? What did I need? And then suddenly, as if knowing my propensities to be alone with my tears, he made the choice for me: “I’m coming over, I’ll see you soon.”
Bloodshot eyes and a puffy face greeted him outside the gate. After enough time had gone by with me trying to hide underneath my blanket, he made me look at him and he said:
“I love you and you love me. From now on we have to face these things together.”
I stamped the ground like a rebellious toddler when he told me what I should to do to make things better. I didn’t want to ask for favors, I didn’t want to be so helpless and vulnerable. But he assured me he would be there with me and he would even talk if I didn’t want to.
So I gave in. I let him help me.
And in the end, he was right. We do have to face things together from now on. And I need to learn to accept that I’m not alone any longer.
I need to learn that it’s ok to crumble and let someone else be strong in my place for a change.
And I need to never, ever forget how incredibly lucky I am to have someone that wants to fight my battles with me instead of running away.