They say the first time is always the hardest
I walked into the office, nervous about the meaning behind this visit. Would it define me? Would I be looked at a little different? Would there be questions?
I took the elevator to the wrong floor, thought about getting off and creating an excuse to turn around and head back to my car. If I couldn't find the office, that would be my excuse. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the button that would take me to the right floor. The light walls, and dark carpet weren't inviting, but I continued walking, hoping that I was on the wrong floor again.
Four white doors, all of them held the secrets and fears shared behind them. I needed to talk to someone before she called my name. I picked up my cell phone and sent a text, I'm in this office and I am terrified. There was no response. I knew she was at work, but I was hoping she wasn't.
I settled into the comfortable chair and took a look around, hoping this might calm me down.
White walls, closed doors, muffled voices of other people who needed to talk, and my frayed nerves all crammed into this small office space. This visit was not meant to fix me, because I am not broken. But the fear continued to wrap itself around me like a too tight hug from a relative I hadn't seen in a while. I wanted to walk out, I had already thought about the excuses I'd use, and there were plenty. But they weren't good enough.
I wanted to deny that I needed this
But the guilt was too strong for me not to talk about it. I wanted to let go of the anger, and accept the forgiveness that had been trying to break past this heart of mine that has hardened over the years. Letting go has never been easy for me.
This was going to help me. I'd contacted her for a reason, reasons that are mine.