Learning to hold a heart

January 2017

I’m starting to learn to hold a heart.

I know, I’m a late developer.

Here’s something that happened.

I’m sitting with G. He’s explaining how he feels.

As I’m listening, I feel attacked, and blamed. I feel fear rising and moving like hot energy snakes around my body; I sense in my arms the desire to rise up and fight, my desire to shout, about how ridiculous he’s being, the unconscious misogyny, the desire to control me from his fear, the powerful desire to defend my freedom and the goodness of my life.

I am trying to learn to not be reactive; to manage deep listening; to express empathy; to take time, when my partner is on fire, to calm the fire, before I bring forward my feelings and needs and fight against him, for them.

I listen for as long as I can take it. Then I say, give me a minute.

Ok, he says.

I walk away. It feels good. He starts to speak to me. I hold up my hand — really, please, a minute.

Ok.

I move several feet away. That feels good. Oh i need to shake. I shake. That feels good. I’ve just absorbed a lot. I calm a little. I see the piano. I really want to play it. “Are you ok if I play the piano for a moment?” “Sure.”

I sit. One chord. Yes. I’m flooded with yes. This is my place. This is a safe space for my feelings. G minor. Yes! F9. Oh yes! D minor. Fuck yes! C major. Of course!!! I move through them, getting louder and louder, making the chords more and more crunchy, my fingers fly fiercely across the keys, and here is the sound of my rage, and my fear, the motherfucker.

I move through and through it until something softens and I’m just left with, wow! He’s in so much pain! The poor fucker! It leads me to the final chord.

I turn to him. “G you poor thing! You’ve been in so much pain!”

At the empathy, he cries.

And we have connection.

Now the rage and fear have been moved, I can hear him more. I can get to the heart of the feelings, behind all those very unreasonable seeming irrational deluded fears and odd assumptions, I can get to the heart of the needs, and the reality of his feeling insecure. However unreal his fears, his feeling of insecurity is true. I can literally put my hand on his heart, and hold it, and be with him, and want to help him, somehow, I don’t know how yet, to feel more secure.

And then, he’s ready to hear me. By now he really wants to hear me. And then I can say my fears, and he can hear them. It’s Sunday afternoon.

On Friday night we were screaming at each other until 3am, breaking up, and I drove an hour home at 3am; by Monday morning, we are closer than ever before in each others arms.

I am beginning to learn to hold a heart.