Is Azmir worth that much? He’s never told me that!
This is personal information being published that not even I was aware of? I shared his bed for Christ’s sake! Another blow was the eligible part. We’d just broken up just two days ago and I’m sure this article was written several weeks back, at least. He wasn’t eligible then, was he? The tears started again. It took a minute to get myself under control. So badly I wanted to go back next door and curse him out something painful, but I decided to spare myself the embarrassment. He hasn’t even called! The lyrics “I’m gonna make it through the day…” from my breakup-theme-song came to mind and I immediately shut down emotionally and went about my day.
Later that evening, I was sitting in Pastor Edmondson’s office, listening to him speak about the principles of hope and how it relates to faith. He sat behind his desk while I was in a chair facing him. I was jotting down notes and thought I was doing a good job at keeping up when he stopped abruptly. I looked up see what was going on. His face was angled toward his desk and he wore an expression as though he was struggling to hear something faint. I narrowed my eyebrows, confused as to what was happening.
“Rayna, is there something you’d like to share?”
What in the…? We were just here talking about faith and you turn the corner to ask if I have questions?
Okay…
“Well…errmmm…I was going to wait until you were done to ask you to revisit the concept of the spirit of expectation and how it ties into faith again…” My tone fell because Pastor Edmondson’s searing gaze told me that we weren’t on the same page.
“Put your pad and pen down, daughter.” I did as he asked. If I didn’t trust him as much as I did he would have been freaking me out at that moment. I sat up to give him my undivided attention.
“What’s tugging at you?” he searched my eyes. “Is everything all right at work…at home?” My body chilled. I shook my head.
“Do you want to talk about it? Rayna, you know that you control these sessions. If there’s something bothering you, let’s try to take it on together.” Again, searching my eyes, he nodded, asking if I understood. I nodded in agreement. He continued, “It’s something at home. What’s going on?”
How did he know? I had to quickly decide if I was going to share or lie to keep my personal problems to myself. Solitude had been too lonely, so I went with the former.
“Azmir and I broke up,” slipped out of my mouth like melted butter. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what went wrong. I don’t know how to pin point the issue.”
“Did he say anything? Did he lodge a complaint of any kind?”
I thought long and hard about his question.
“He said that I don’t trust him enough to let my guards down to let him in. I’d just told him I loved him last week after my session with you. What more could I have done?” I was now wide-eyed in bewilderment. Slamming my face into my hands, I exhaled. “I’m so confused. I’m just horrible at interpersonal relationships.” I cried and hard.
Pastor Edmondson gave me some time. He handed me a couple of tissues when he came around to the chair next to me and sat.
“Daughter, you’re a work in progress. You told him that you loved him and that may take some time to sink in for him. You’re not horrible, you’re human. Rayna, have you shared with Azmir your fear of trust and rejection?”
My head popped up. He continued, “Have you clearly laid it out for him, starting with your mother’s neglect during her addiction, then your father’s abandonment and rejection of your family and the betrayal of your first love and childhood best friend? Did you articulate how all three incidences, taking place relatively around the same time and in your delicate adolescent years, scarred you?”