There are definitely instances in my life that I wish I had a do-over for. Like, if I had the chance, I would tell the truth without fear of consequence (or even with the fear, do it anyway). I would have let myself experience life. I always thought of myself as brave, but I have so many instances of me running scared, doing the opposite of what I wanted the most, and I ain’t tryna be on that anymore.
So my challenge for myself going forward? Do the scary thing. Tell the absolute truth, all of it, not holding back or massaging away the parts that feel the most vulnerable. And remember that my worthiness is not based on what I did or didn’t do in the moment. It’s based on my humanity, the fact that I exist. That I am here in this moment.
No more regrets. No more trying to protect myself from imaginary hurt. If I want to live fully, if I really want what I say what I want, I have to go after it full throttle.
And I am committing to doing exactly that going forward.
Today’s Story—
I want a slow evening. A sweet moment of connection in the midst of a storm. A reminder of what exists between us, what we must nurture, what we cannot lose.
This story is about creating a space for connection. A moment, a glimpse into what feels like home. Hope you enjoy!
Dance real slow
by Katrina Mitchell
I loved moving in sync with him. We had discovered this pattern where it felt almost instinctual– he’d step forward and I would step back. He’d place his hand on my lower back and I’d turn out. We’d shuffle through our daily routine, always physically aware of where the other is. We curled into each other every night. It was so comfortable, I almost forgot to check in.
The changes happened slowly, almost imperceptibly. We bumped into each other on our way in and out the door. Then, we collided into each other in the kitchen. It seemed the more we avoided what was bothering us, the less we were able to avoid each other.
Our sync was off, and I wasn’t sure how or why it started. It could have been the night I stayed out late and forgot to call. Or the day he got good news and didn’t tell me first. So many small things were starting to take a toll on us. To me, it was important for us to get back on track.
It was a quiet night. I lit candles all around the house. I had music playing quietly in the background. I ordered food from our favorite restaurant. He came in the house that evening with a confused look on his face.
“What’s all this?” He asked.
I patted the seat next to me on the couch. “Come. Sit.”
He hesitated, then removed his coat. “I’m tired. What’s all this?”
“I wanted to talk with you…”
“Aww hell,” he responded quickly. “What did I do now?”
“Nothing. Nothing.” I inhaled deeply. I could see his defenses were up. I wanted to diffuse the situation. “Do you wanna sit down?”
He thought for a moment, then walked over to the couch. He sat at the other end.
“Would you come closer?” I asked.
“I’m fine over here,” he stated. “Now what do you want to talk about?”
The lights flickered around us. I decided to get right to it. “We’re off.”
“What?”
“We’re not moving well together. It could be me…”
“Oh, it’s definitely you,” he sneered. I ignored it.
“...but I can’t help but feel like something is missing or is off. So I wanted to spend some time with you. Talk, reconnect. Check in. Make sure we’re good.”
“We’re good,” he said.
“Humor me, please?” I asked. “I got us dinner. Are you hungry?”
He laughed because I knew the answer. I rose and grabbed the bags from the kitchen table, and brought them to the couch. I handed him a container with garlic noodles and spicy shrimp, and I got the green curry with rice. I moved to the seat next to him.
“Is it okay with you if I sit here?”
I could see his defenses letting down a bit. “Yeah, it’s cool.”
We ate our food in silence. I would look at him until I caught his eye, then I’d quickly look away and giggle like a school girl. After the third time, he laughed too. “What?”
“Nothing,” I laughed. “How was your day?”
And almost immediately, the floodgates opened. He told me about this project he was working on and how stressful it was. He told me about a coworker who was determined to upstage him every chance he got. Then he asked me what was going on with me. I told him about the off color joke my boss made when he thought I was out of earshot, and my debate about taking it to HR or not. I told him I think of quitting every single day, but my bills keep me chained to the office.
“If you were to leave, what would you want to do instead?”
I didn’t have an answer.
The night went on, and we laughed so much. It was getting late, and we were cleaning up. An Isley Brothers song played in the background. And that’s when I felt it– his hand on my lower back. I shifted forward. He held his hand out to me. I took it, and he twirled me. I landed back in his arms.
“I didn’t realize how much I missed this,” he said, as we swayed.
“Sometimes, life gets to just be too much,” I whispered. “It’s nice to have moments like this again. I like just being. With you.”
“I like that too,” he said.
And we danced. Real slow.
