Stretch Marks

Text (from a # with no name):
I’ve thought of you a lot lately. I hope all is well.

First, I pondered the phone number. I didn’t question it in an attempt to try to figure out who it was, more like hoping it wasn’t who I thought it was. My cell phone has been upgraded from basic camera phone to a SmartPhone that allows me to, unfortunately and annoyingly, be accessible in damn near every way possible. For some reason, my SIM card didn’t sync properly and a lot of numbers are on my SIM card but aren’t recognized in the phone’s memory. This has proven to be helpful in this instance since my previous phone wouldn’t let me block numbers and I ended up keeping a few stored so I knew NOT to answer the phone. EVER.

The Universe (sickening cliche moment) and my new phone must’ve conspired to save me from having the painful physical response I had anytime this person’s name came up in my text messages. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

So, I’m trying to figure the number out, blocking the part of me who knows who it belongs to. See, after a long and grueling emotional ordeal that followed a harrowing physical ordeal, I finally took some of my power back (or so I thought) and got him to promise to discontinue this assault on my spirit. He finally seemed to get it and til now has given me nothing but the physical, emotional and psychological expanse I’ve asked for. In my mind I wanted to believe, hoped that I had guessed wrong at the owner of this number and that I would find I’d made a mistake and it was really a text from someone I appreciate and would be happy to hear from. I went to the Internet to check on the area code and was disappointed to receive confirmation. There was no way around the fact that I’ve never had anyone else in my phone book with this area code. No one.

Text deleted. It spent an eternity 5 minutes too long in my phone.

This is the 2nd time in 6 days that I’ve had text messages that caused me an emotional response that gave me pause and made me really internalize them, what the gestures meant more than the words in the texts. Great anxiety coursed through me, along with the adrenalin caused by that kind of stress. I found myself reaching for security blankets to protect me and tried to find ways to cover the texts and make them go away from my phone and my mind. Typing these words now is causing me a physical response to the emotions that still linger.

Recently, I had an opportunity to discover that I, like everyone else, have been using the word vulnerable incorrectly. What most of us intend when we use the word is to imply the concept of openness to receive. Something felt wrong about the way a question was asked of me, using that word and I ran to my trusty dictionary.

vulnerable
(adj) susceptible to physical or emotional attack or harm

I’ve been vulnerable twice in the last 6 days. The words themselves not harmful; the subtext in the gestures, however, packed quite the punch.

At the end of the day it all, I came out with small victories. I was able to delete without response. Before, I would’ve hung on to this proof of assault, keeping it next to me, even without returning to them to read. Before that I would’ve just been reactionary and responded with my anger or hurt thick in my words, intent on making sure they knew how I felt about their intrusions into my world. I’m gradually seeing the power of Ignore. It’s still difficult, but I can do it. To borrow from a friend, I have a new wrinkle in my brain and a new layer of skin. The evolution of Me continues.

Watch me move.