A Chance to Love

In a little over two weeks, I'm getting on an airplane again and those of you who've been reading my posts for a while know that flying ranks right up there with thunderstorms in my list of irrational fears. And you might also recall that I flew for the first time in 24 years in April of this year when I went to Canada to visit my son and his family. And you might remember that my middle kiddo Bradley went with me on that trip ... Brad and some stiff anti-anxiety medication. Now that I think about it, Brad's probably the one who needed the meds for having to travel with me ... bless that boy's heart, he deserves an award of some sort for making that trip with me. This time, however, I'm traveling alone, and the closer it gets to the day for me to get on the airplane, the more frightened I'm becoming. Just typing those words causes my heart to pound, sweat to break out on my forehead and all the "what ifs" to start coursing through my mind.

What if I miss my connecting flight or there's a delay or ... oh, gosh ... oh, gosh ... oh, gosh ... what if there is a thunderstorm? What if I get sick and throw up on the plane? What if I pass out or my ears explode or the guy in the seat next to me is a serial killer? What if the pilot gets lost and we land in China instead of Canada? What if I leave my backpack in the bathroom and lose all my stuff? What if the customs guy says, "You shall not pass!!" and I have to live in the airport for a month like Tom Hanks in that movie? Those fears aren't irrational at all ... nope, nope, nope ... those are perfectly legitimate, normal, rational fears that all wise and seasoned airplane travelers have. I'm sure of it ... completely, totally, insanely sure of it. But ... but ... but ... there is a very special little girl who will be waiting for me at the end of my perilous journey ... a very special little girl who calls me Ghee ... a very special little girl who, unbeknownst to her, is helping me overcome some pretty huge fears in my life.

Fear is an emotion I know well, all too well ... and I'm not talking about my crazy irrational fears of flying or storms or grass. I've lived in fear for most of my life ... the fear of being unloved ... the fear of being judged ... the fear of being alone. I was afraid to be real ... so very afraid to let anyone see the real me. I was terrified to tell the truth about who I am ... terrified that if I ever came out of hiding, I would lose all the people I love most in this world. And honestly, some of those fears have proven to be valid ones, and the last year hasn't always been an easy road to travel. Someone in my office asked me last week if I ever regret breaking down and telling the truth, if I ever wish I would have found a way to stay in my closet and keep it locked forever. I would be lying if I said I haven't had days when I beat myself up and wonder where I would be today had I not come out. But there are far more days when I am grateful not to have to carry around the enormous weight of secrecy and deception any longer.

I still have fear ... sometimes I have a whole, whole, whole lot of fear. And I have days when my fear of being hated because of who I am is manifested through the words of others. But then I have days like today when people I feared would hate me the most contacted me to say they had known for years, that they loved me then, that they love me just the same now and that they will always love me. And as I listened to their messages on my phone and read the words in their emails, I was struck with the enormity of the lesson contained within them ... a lesson that grows even bigger the more I contemplate it. I was given another chance the day that my plan to commit suicide was interrupted ... another chance at life. When I allow my fear that people are going to hate me prevail and I choose to isolate myself from them, I'm not giving them a chance ... I'm not giving them a chance to love me, and that, my friends, is just plain old wrong.

In a little over two weeks, I'm getting on an airplane and flying to Canada to spend Christmas with my granddaughter. I'll be plenty afraid, but I'm getting on that plane, you bet I am. You see ... there's something I know better than anyone ... something I know to the very core of my being. I know that on a cold February morning in 2012, I was given a chance to try again ... to grab on with the smallest shred of strength I had left and try again. I was given a chance to be real ... a chance to be honest ... a chance to live. I was given a chance to try again ... to love my children and my family and my friends the way they deserve to be loved. I was given a chance to love a very special little girl who calls me Ghee and to give her a chance to love me.

Perhaps I'm not the only one who needs to overcome a fear or two, friends, and maybe, just maybe, I'm not the only one who needs to give other people a chance to love.