I had a blog post drafted many months ago with this title of Triggers.  It listed everything from Edward Jones offices to crepe myrtles to Hot Tamales to the UNC Athletic scandal.  It listed song after song.  It listed movies and genres of movies.  It listed television shows.  It listed cities and countries and theme parks.  It listed so many things that I thought of at the time as “triggers”.

I never published it.  Because as it turns out, those were all just memories compared to what I’m facing right now.  Those were all just triggers to remember some wonderful moments with Chris compared to the trigger staring me in the face, as I type this.

Because today, at this very moment, I’m sitting in Raleigh Orthopaedics.  I’m sitting in the exact same waiting room I sat in April 2016.  I’m going through the exact same process I went through before.  I’m staring at the exact same carpet, the exact same furniture patterns, feeling the exact same hard chairs from before.  I’m listening to the same staff say the same things I heard before.  My wifi even remembered the old passwords.  And I’m doing it all by choice.

There are parts that are different.  It’s a different surgery (thumb instead of hip).  Recovery time is much shorter.  Mobility will be much better.  And the relationship is certainly different.

See, I started dating.  And after a lot of really awful, horrible, disastrous experiences (more on that later), I tried online dating.  And after even more awful, horrible, disastrous experiences (more on that later, too), I met someone I liked.

So now I’m seeing someone steadily.  Someone that respects both my past and my plans for the future.  Someone who cares deeply about my well-being, maybe even over his own.  Someone who speaks fluently in all the languages of Katie – sarcasm included.  Someone who walked into surgery today with a shirt on that said, “That’s a horrible idea.  What time?”

So when he finally admitted that he would need very minor surgery, he did so very, very carefully.  And he said he would have everything taken care of – someone to take him, pick him up, etc. – unless I wanted to do so.

And after some long considerations, and some tears, and some long moments asking myself my motivations and concerns, I offered to face this head-on.  Not for him.  I mean, I like him.  But I’m not putting myself through this for him.

And not for Chris.  I’m not facing this all over again for the sake of Chris.  There are many things I do for Chris, and will continue to do and work towards for Chris.  But this isn’t one of them.

This demon, this awful memory, this insane trigger I’m choosing to face head-on, I’m facing for me.  I’m sitting in this waiting room for myself.

It is painful.  It is uncomfortable.  It is awkward.  I mean, let’s be real here:  how many girls have sat in this waiting room for 2 different men?  Ooooof.

But here I am anyway.  Facing the awkward, uncomfortable, and painful memories.  For one single reason.

You can call me crazy.  You can call me insane.  You can call me a glutton for punishment.  You can call me whatever, as I have no control over anyone’s opinions of me.

But the reason I sit here is because of fear.  I sit here to face fear head-on.  I sit here because I don’t want to know that something completely out of my control has control over me.  I sit here because I don’t want to know that this fear beat me.

I just cannot live with the knowledge that the fear of something completely out of my control faced me down.  Because that means that fear has control over me.  That means I’m controlled by something I loathe.  That means I’m controlled by something other than my faith.

So here I sit.  Feeling uncomfortable.  Feeling awkward.  Nervous about the nasty words that might spill out if I have to endure the “blood clot talk” again.  But I have faith that God and I will help me hold my tongue.  I have faith the strength will come when it is needed.

I did not plan to share this moment publicly.  There’s a lot I’m admitting in just under 1000 words.  But writing is my therapy.  And I obviously could use a little outlet right now.

So thanks, followers.  For allowing me my therapy.  For being supportive.  And for helping me to feel loved and secure enough to admit things I probably wouldn’t have before, but probably need to.

And if you feel the urge to pray, I ask that you pray for peace and faith, over strength and patience.  Whoever is praying for patience – you can stop now.  I’m good on opportunities to learn patience.  But faith and peace… those buckets could use some filling.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to hold my tongue when we’re discharged.  Maybe, just maybe, I’ll show the love Chris embodied and that I’ve told myself I’m working towards.  Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to look back at this as something else I’ve had the strength and faith to conquer.

I’m at least going to stretch out with my bare feet on this uncomfortable couch, and look forward to the chocolate and wine I’ll dig into later.

~Katie