A letter to my trainer Nick
Sparking Synapses Batguy! Our last couple of sessions were like spooky sci-fi symmetrical universes weaving through each other! Twinges, hints of separate but parallel journeys. In 8 days I traveled from dejection, despair to a new peace.
Day 0 Bummed: The guy I had been having relations with dissed me. No explanation.
Day 3 Trapped: Therapy was hard, cold, but true. Though we laid a road map, I still felt trapped.
Day 4-6 Saddened: During the workout you reveled that you once didn’t like yourself. There is no “tough” way to say it: that broke my heart. The thought that your well being was ever dowsed with self doubt stung. I teared up as you told me. Every time I thought of it for days after, I cried.
Day 5 Confused: I am lost in a familiar woods (but holding the map?!). Still sad about you. You seem over it, why can’t I shake it?
Day 6 Sad but scratching: Proclaim I will evolve and I believe it, just don’t feel it. Still can’t think about what you said without choking up. I give in, something is going on.
Day 7 Stable, calm and quiet.
Day 8 Washed in awe: Woke up feeling amazing, promising!
Later in the day, out of the blue, I had a visceral daydream. I was happily working, then suddenly I was in this moment that could never be. It wasn’t like a fantasy or a wishful thought. For as incredible as the experience was, it’s the content that left me so full:
The current me was in NYC, 1975, I am in the dentist’s apartment and there is only the young me laying on the floor. Time was frozen. It’s moments after the rape. I cradle him in my arms. I am comforting him, holding myself, letting the kid sob. I wrapped myself around him like a blanket. I pressed my hands on his chest absorbing the pain and fear, showing him his strength.
I have never thought about comfort, never sought it. Previously when I’d remember myself laying on that floor I either felt numb or a hideous impulse to violently attack myself. Before, I felt it was my fault for being so stupid, emotionally hungry and horney… I let this happen, I deserved worse. But this daydream cut through that and I gave that kid what he needed, comfort. Not a beer or a cigarette, not blaming or explaining, I gave him a moment of safety, concern and protection.
I finally understand why your story moved me so much. Knowing your struggle opened something in me. How could you, this incredible kid ever feel like me? How could anyone not see all his potential and nurture it with a vengeance? He’s eager and bright, there is a spark in him…and suddenly I don’t know who I am talking about: a kid in a Star Wars shirt or the one spattered in paint? These two kids were twisted together and I couldn’t see the difference. Seeing myself in you, I was able to extend the compassion I felt towards you to include me. In that bubble I found the power to go back 40 years and hold that boy.
And that Batguy is some crazy fucking mojo!
The poster is awesome, but sharing with me was truly a gift.