In new relationship, you’re always trying to waltz.
With their hand on your back, your feet begin to follow.
As the music continues, you start to feel a tug.
You lose eye contact, skip a beat, and focus on re-entraining.
You wonder, if it is them?
Have they mis-stepped?
Is it the orchestra?
It couldn’t be you.
Because if it was you, you would have to stop.
And if you stopped, well,
What would happen if you stopped?
If you stopped, you’d be still enough to look behind you and see all of the parts that spun off of you, trying to keep up, that aren’t quite in sync.
Parts that learned some dances, ballrooms, partners, shoes, outfits, aren’t safe for them to dance in… so they’re cautious at the scenery.
Parts that thought you didn’t want them to dance.
Parts that haven’t heard this music in a really long time.
Parts that haven’t danced in a really long time.
Parts that remember when dancing wasn’t so fun.
Parts that remember when dancing really, deeply, hurt you.
Parts that remember when dancing nearly killed you.
These parts are tugging because they’re trying to tell you something.
The more you keep going, the harder they keep tugging.
The harder they tug, the larger the interruption.
Eventually the interruption moves you to a stop.
Your partner asks what’s wrong, and in that moment, you honestly don’t know.
It’s with this full stop that you’re able to look down behind you, and first meet the biggest part of you that’s been tugging.
For the first time, you bend down to its level.
You’re now eye level with this part of you that felt like it had to spin off, and for the first time in years, its being looked at.
Everything in the outside world comes to a hault.
“Hello, I’m so sorry I didn’t know you were here.”
“I’ve been trying to get your attention.”
You have a conversation with her. You give her all the time and the space in the world to tell you what she’s been trying to tell you. You empathize with her and you validate her.
You finally accredit her existence, reason for running, and being in separation.
Next, you comfort her. You hold her for as long as she wants. You mother her. You feed her. You warm her. You cradle her. You spend time with her.
Then, when she feels ready, you ask her to come dance with you.
You tell her that there’s someone you’d like her to meet, and that you’ll hold her hand the entire time.
“But I forget the dance now, I’m too afraid”
“Remember when you didn’t though?”
You slowly welcome her back into the waltz,
Show her the steps, and tell her that you can stop at any time.
You introduce her to your partner, let them know that she’s there.
Eventually, the waltz returns without effort.
As it quiets down, and the orchestra breaks, you feel a tug.
This time on your heart.
With no hesitation this time, you stop and hear her softly whisper,
“I love to waltz.”
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