I am a survivor. I have borne challenges and stress in my otherwise-loving home throughout my youth; I have made it out of sexual and psychological abuse by the therapist I had for six years as a teenager; I have learned to socialize, past what was once debilitating social anxiety; I have held friendships for over a decade (I am young) and graduated from a demanding music school in pursuit of a childhood dream; I bring myself back into “holding the line” every day.
and now…
I want to become a thriver.
A childhood friend came back into my life, and took me to the beach. It was November by the time we did it.
We went twice. The first time, we had a funeral for our past lives.
I believed I had written too much. I didn’t want to share my words, with this young man who was so much more than I had once thought I’d known.
I was scared the content would exceed his capacities of healthy or enjoyable intake.
let alone the length.
But he told me, “Don’t stop on my account.”
and every time I wound to a halt – he was gentle — but he got me to keep reading.
Afterwards, he looked the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time.
I want to see him look that happy, for as long as we live.
His reading was short. But the idea in it made so very-much sense.
resonated.
I’m following through on this idea, by asking for something today.
Funds to purchase a beautiful house, near that small, precious beach.
The house is $300,000. I ask you for $400,000. Enough, to get my affairs in order, and give something small to my family.
I don’t know whether he will be part of this picture. I am shy and over-bold, in all the jagged and smooth and entirely-wrongfooted moments.
I commit, errors.
and I would pray we could find a small salvation together, in this little house – start a life.
But even if he isn’t there with me, or isn’t there for a while yet —- I’ll write him letters – like we normally do – and we’ll have a steady place we can spend time together, once he notes the new address and sees in the letter body: “Someone helped me…and I’ve made it through the first rain.”
Would you be willing to give me this miracle?
Would you be willing to give me the $400,000?
Thank you for your energy considering.
Thank you for the understanding and generosity you give me, already even now.
Oh — I’d forgotten…maybe you’re wondering, what we did the second time we went?
We did what any red-blooded young people drawn to eachother and having lived our lives, would do ~
We built a sandcastle.
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