My Therapist Would Approve

“But I need all the cracks in my shattered heart, 'cause that’s where her love gets in.”  – Dierks Bentley

Blog world, meet Sarah Wissmann.  Sarah Wissmann, meet my droves of faithful readers. 

Wait… something about the above doesn’t seem right.  No, it’s not what you might think.  Of course, I have droves of faithful readers. 
Or not. 
Either way, let’s try this again.

Blog world, meet Dr. Sarah Wissmann.  Dr. Sarah Wissmann, meet my droves of faithful readers. 

While “droves” may or not be an accurate adjective, “Dr.” is most definitely an accurate title for the Subject of this blog post. I’ll admit to not being the least bit embarrassed by the fact that someone as smart as Dr. Wissmann finds our conversations mentally stimulating.  At least, most of our conversations.  Or maybe a few of our conversations? 
Nah, she thinks I’m smart, too. 

Here’s the skinny on Dr. Sarah.  She is educated, accomplished, published, emotionally self-aware, relationally intuitive, well traveled, a lover of Jesus, of a Methodist upbringing, progressive, thoughtful, a committed mom, a graduate of Iowa State College of Veterinary Medicine while simultaneously NOT a fan of Cyclone athletics, a great kisser, a skilled dancer and adorable.  Stunningly, gorgeously, adorable. 

 If the saying “like attracts like” is true, Sarah’s choice to be with me is a compliment stretching the limits of plausibility.  Let’s not think about it too much, though.  After all, isn’t there some other saying about the mouth of a gift horse or something?  Either way, the compliment of her choice is an honor I plan to live up to. 

There’s another quality of Sarah’s that I find quite attractive.  In fact, this quality stands out among an arm’s length long list of attractive qualities.  Sarah is the exactly the type of woman for whom my therapist told me to hold out.  In this earlier blog post, I passed along what said therapist shared with me regarding the two different places from which someone can begin a romantic relationship.  

“1) Coming from a place of strength in which they’re okay with themselves and okay with being alone yet they choose to be with the other person or 2) Coming from a place of need, in which they have no choice but to be with the other person because they can’t bear the idea of being alone and they need the validation that comes from being in a relationship.  She explained that starting a relationship from the second reason is like building a house out of 2x4’s that are rotten on the inside.  At first, things look fine but eventually the house will collapse in on itself because no other person can meet nor fill that role.”

Sarah comes to me from the first option, from a place of strength.  From the time of her divorce (the story of which is hers to tell) until our first date, she dated minimally.  In fact, “minimally” might be an understatement.  Instead of going on dates, Sarah spent a lot of time in her therapists’ office.  Rather than sacrificing time with her kids by dating guys she in whom she was only somewhat interested, she decided to wait until she finally found someone who possessed the characteristics for which she was looking.  She has slowly shared with me, in the form of handwritten notes, the character traits which she sees in me that prompted her to “come out of retirement.”  In addition to learning from the mistakes of her first marriage, Sarah possessed the patience, self-confidence and discernment necessary for pursuing a second chance at love from a place of strength. 

Full disclosure – my own “broken road” was different than Sarah’s.  While she hardly dated at all, I spent a season as a professional dater of sorts.  Though that season resulted in clarity and growth it eventually had to give way to a Lenten season of grief and aloneness.  

With Easter came a shot at a new dating app, “Coffee Meets Bagel.”  A match with a pretty redhead resulted in an invitation for her to accompany me to Ruins Pub followed by a concert being put on by a friend of mine.  The pictures on her profile, while nice to look at, failed to prepare me for the misplaced heartbeat that occurred the moment her front door swung open and I laid eyes on the beautiful smile located just below those smiling eyes.

I mean, who wouldn't be interested in a profile like that one

I guess, if you resisted the first profile pic, you'd fail to do so with this one

Our very first message

Watching that girl dance is a
thing of beauty

Repping the other alma mater

Don't let the smile fool you, she was
sore after emptying that corn bin

That fateful evening ended with a kiss.  Not to toot our own horn, but our fist kiss just might be good enough to misplace a different kiss on this list.  At the least, it was good enough to draw protests from a young Fred Savage.  

"The rest", as they say, "is history" as we now progress toward a shared future.

Just cause she has a degree from there
doesn't mean she cheers for those losers

It's gonna be a few years till we celebrate her 40th

Finally, let’s just verbalize what everyone thinks the first time they meet Sarah.  Sarah is a perfect doppelganger to Amy Adams.  The resemblance is uncannily hilarious.  I can't think of anyone else I know, significant other or not, who resembles a celebrity to the degree Sarah resembles Amy Adams.  
Lucky girl.  
Amy Adams, that is.  

Fear, Reality and the Triathlon

“Donnie, you are so filled with fear.  I hurt for you.”

That’s a summary of what my therapist said to me during a session back in August of 2015.  I’ve already written a lot about what I was processing during that season of my life, so no need to rehash all of that.  As I shared in a post back in March, that same therapist challenged me to let go of some new and different, yet equally false, fears that had recently crept into my heart.

In the spirit of open-confession on this blog, I can admit that I’m now facing some new fears. These fears are financial.  While it seems that the worst of these fears won’t come true, some lesser fears are, in fact, becoming a reality.  This is causing me to make some serious changes in my life.  Though the changes are painful, I think the long-term results are going to be a net-positive.

As my therapist could attest, fear is a constant battle I face; the battle to separate wild, outlandish fears from possible scenarios that could happen should circumstances not improve.  As fear is a constant struggle, a sermon I heard a few months ago hit home in a perspective-altering way.

Here’s a link to the message.

This is a paraphrase, but the following is a basic summary of Isaac’s message.

“Fear is a terrible predictor of the future.  We make an initial assumption that ‘A’ is true.  And if ‘A’ is true, then clearly ‘B’ must be true.  Following that line of logic, then, we proceed from ‘B’ to ‘C’ and down the line of events which, inevitably, ends with death.  We go from fearing that ‘A’ is actually true to predicting our own demise.  What fear fails to consider, though is the possibility of God intervening somewhere in that chain of possible scenarios.  Fear is a horrible predictor of future events.”

Later in the sermon, he’s discussing Jesus walking with the disciples on the Road to Emmaus, which is post-suffering and post-resurrection.  Jesus tells his disciples (and therefore us), “if you’re looking for a Jesus to help you circumvent all pain, loss and suffering, that’s not me.  If you’re looking for a Jesus, however who has been through it all and can promise that there’s new life and joy on the other side, that’s me, because I’ve already walked that path.”

A couple of months ago, I accomplished one of my New Year’s Resolutions for 2018, I finished a short triathlon.  This triathlon turned out to be an interesting case study in my struggle with fear.

The afternoon before the race, I went out to the lake to organize my transition area and to check out the course.  As this was about to be my first ever triathlon, I had no idea what to expect nor any previous experience upon which I could draw for navigating all the different variables of an open water swim, followed by a bike ride, capped off by a run.

Here's a list of all the fears I had about that race, starting Saturday afternoon and continuing until I received the “KC Triathlon Finisher” medal

I’d drown
My goggles would get kicked off my face while out in the open water
I’d be embarrassed by my old-school bike
My bike would have mechanical issues and my non-mechanical self wouldn’t know what to do
I wouldn’t make it up the hill at mile 9
My cotton shirt would fill with sweat
I wouldn’t be able to get my wetsuit off during the transition from swimming to biking
My bag would take up too much space in the transition area
I wouldn’t get my transition area set up properly or by 7:00 AM
I wouldn’t get a good picture in my wetsuit
Between swimming warm-ups and the start of the race (1.5 hours later), I’d be too hot in my wetsuit
I’d leave stuff in transition area, which closed at 7, that I’d need before the race
My car would be so far from the beach that I’d sweat like crazy walking there and back in my wetsuit
I’d put my wetsuit on backwards
If I took off my wetsuit, to avoid getting too hot, I wouldn’t be able to get it back on
My legs would be too weak to run after the bike portion
I’d look like an imposter among all the seasoned tri-athletes
I’d have to poop during the race
I’d oversleep

Yeah, that’s a pretty long list…

When the starting buzzer sounded for my “wave” (men 40 and older), my legs felt like jelly and the movement down the sandy beach and toward the lake water felt surreal.  Until I plunged face first into the ice cold water, I wasn’t convinced I’d have the courage to actually start the race.   At the other end of the race, while painfully jogging the last portion under a hot sun, I was never fully convinced I’d finish the race without walking until I actually crossed the finish line.

As I savored the post-race wheat beer, I realize that not a single one of the fears on the above list manifested themselves.  Not a single one.  Though I’m sure it might be riveting writing, I’m going to pass on sharing the details of how I worked through every single one of those challenges.  It will suffice to say though, that I both figured them all out and regretted having wasted so much emotional energy worrying about them.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some other things to go worry about.  Like whether there’s a good spot in my house to display my medal.