Some days are easier than others, better than others, some days are more melancholy than the day before. Yet each day I generate gratitude for my ability to breathe, to move without pain, to check my blood sugar levels and be ok with the results (my family plays around with diabetes, so I stay informed with my own body). Each day I am grateful for bravery. I am careful not to confuse bravery with fearlessness, as I feel fear often. Bravery is the tenacity that shows up, regardless of fear.
I found a jogging/walking route near Brown University here in Providence and I find myself building my jog back up to a decent pace over the three mile path. I am enamored with the beauty of this city: the fall colors, the crisp leaves all over the brick streets, the beautiful and grand homes providing a gorgeous backdrop to the bright red and orange leaves that remain on some of the beautiful trees. Admittedly, I am awestruck.
While I stay in daily contact with my Vervewell staff in Fort Worth (my team is so communicative and connected with me and with each other, which warms my heart at every turn), I spend many hours a week finding my way in this new city, my new home. I live in a neighborhood referred to as Providence’s Little Italy. I hear people speaking Italian often and the interactions among those I watch is different than how it is in Texas. There is a sense of privacy around each person, a protectedness, if you will. There are less smiles and less eye contact. I was in Texas for 42 years; a length of time that allowed me to accept Texas’ niceties and hospitalities as the standards for passing exchanges. I am adapting to the different.
My biggest task most days, however, is to shed my loneliness. While I was alone in Texas, I knew people. I don’t know anyone here. I live alone (though my two cats DO fill my home with personality), I work alone, I see clients most days, but through a laptop screen and camera. I go to dinner alone, I venture out for a happy hour…alone. This isn’t a sad story, really, it isn’t. I like being alone most of the time, but some of the time, it’s, well, lonely.
Since landing here in Rhode Island, I can feel myself opening up, shedding my loneliness, as I say. I have done some big growing out here on this nomadically northeastern adventure, and in my last handful of years, as well. My self discovery has been keen, big, strong. My bravery has strengthened. And as the writer of the statement I say to my clients regularly: we are who we attract, I am finally interested in attracting others who have also grown a version of themselves of whom they are proud. I am proud of this version of me. I am confident I will attract new friends who share a level of transparency that looks somewhat like mine. I hope so.
I love my work with my couples, marriages, families. I watch husbands and wives, spouses, rally for their relationships. I watch them use my ideas for healthier communication, for connectedness. I watch them grow versions of themselves that offer more love, more transparency, more vulnerability through some of their more challenging chapters. I watch them grow closer even if they had to fall apart first.
Once I wrap up this page, I will head to my jogging trail, where I will build my physical pace up to a relatively healthy and strong cadence. And I will walk through my day today, and the days ahead with a sense of openness, availability, curiosity, transparency, vulnerability, bravery. And I will build my emotional pace to one that is relatively healthy and strong. I am who I attract.
