Triple Bypass Detour

Over this summer, I had the great and terrifying honor of interviewing and writing about sex-trafficking survivors for an upcoming book. I wanted each moment, each sigh, each drift into Tangentville to be real and raw and healing. I asked my super smart social scientist friend to review my interview questions beforehand to make sure they were probing but respectful. I did that nerdy “testing one two three” trick about twenty times.

When I sat with Nadia—(name changed here but you can read her full story when the book comes out next fall!)—she was open and bright, hopeful even after the most horrific past. About an hour and a half into our lattes, I asked her,

“Do you want to have a life partner ever? Do you get any joy from intimacy?”

Nadia answered: “Intimacy? I forgot what it is. I understand by books. By reading. That that’s a need by a woman, but that’s not me. I don’t know. That part of me is gone. It’s gone. I don’t miss it.”

I was stunned and shocked. I wanted to cry for her and hold her close. And also to shake her so fiercely that her I-don’t-need-that exterior cracked and I could pull out whatever shadow was covering her heart. No! You can’t give up on love! I would scream. And then I would take her to an orgasmic yoga retreat, open all her chakras and bathe her in therapeutic oils and open all these new paths to her soul and spirit and help her trust again, right?

Yeah, not so much.

Nadia is an incredibly strong, self-actualized woman. She does not feel sorry for herself or for her lack of intimacy. She has very close relationships with men and women. True friends who understand what she’s been through and celebrate her work as an anti-trafficking advocate. She doesn’t need or want anything more than that. I’m the one who was stuck at her “impasse.” She has already flown past it and enjoys her life fully. She works on her recovery and on helping other survivors with a full, passionate heart. Did I mention she wears a belt with disco balls on it and laughs with her whole body?

***

Which reminds me of a dear friend of mine, whom I’ll call Lindsey here. Lindsey was recently at a doctor’s appointment and found out she had a major blockage in a major vein. (Sorry to be vague about the anatomy here—it’s partly to protect my friend and also because I have a 3^rd grade level of understanding in the medical field. But I do swear this is a true story.) Lindsey wasn’t feeling weak or sick in any way when the blockage was discovered. But the medical team ordered her to have surgery to put in a stent. Only, when the surgeon went in, Lindsey’s body had already taken care of business. There were a series of smaller veins that sprouted out and wove a new route around her roadblock. So all of Lindsey’s organs were and are fine—getting all the blood, oxygen and nutrients they need. It's not like there was a sign inside that said DETOUR. Her body figured out how to redirect these vital fluids on its own. It respected whatever was getting in the way, and found a way around it.

***

My third story is actually more of a fable, though I could definitely see it happening to me. (My therapist gave it to me with a knowing smile). It’s about a man who had a backyard that was full of dandelions. He hated them. Every summer he tried pulling up the weeds and they came back, year after year. He sprayed, he mowed, he crawled on his hands and knees, digging them up by their roots and raked until he hit bedrock. And then one year, in desperation, he wrote to the local government and said, “I bought this house and I wasn’t told there was a dandelion problem in the back yard. What can you do to help me solve this?”

And the letter he got back read: Why don’t you just embrace your dandelions?

***

These are my three heroes today—Nadia, Lindsey, and the Dandelion Man. People who learn to gracefully accept—whether consciously or unconsciously—that they have blockades and hurdles in their way. I used to think that would mean admitting some sort of defeat. But now I see it as respectful and trusting—two key ingredients to any kind of negotiations or healing. Instead of kicking and screaming, or trying to break the door down, they are finding a way to redirect their minds, their bodies, their hearts.

I don’t want to have these crazy fears about my family for the rest of my life. I don’t want to just accept that nightfall makes my heart race with fear. I don’t like that I’m on medication to help me see and breathe straight.

But maybe I have to. I have to respect that this is where and who and how I am right now. If I keep pushing against my obsessive blockade I will just bruise myself and make everyone around me miserable. If I find a way to redirect myself, who knows what beautiful possibilities lie on just the other side?

So tonight, when the sun comes down and I feel my heart kick up its tempo, I can try saying, “Oh hello, Anxiety you old fart. How are we gonna get along tonight?” And see if another door opens.