Brave Enough To Be Bliss

I recognized the name of the person Pastor Anne had copied on the email as someone who had been involved at the church and thought it was ironic that she had referred me to another person with the same first name. I didn’t know any other Gingers. I thought , maybe she won’t even respond. I figured if she knew all I had told Pastor Anne, there was a good chance she wouldn’t want to meet with me either. I was shocked when on this holiday weekend, she responded less than three hours later, offering me options of times to get together the following week. She also suggested we meet for coffee. I really hated it when people wanted to meet for coffee. I don’t drink coffee, and I really don’t even like any beverages that are available at coffee shops. I never said anything, of course, but I just found it annoying. I had noticed a lady in my book group always brought in her own coffee cup regardless of where we went for break fast and thought, “Hmmm, I guess I could take my own cup with Diet Coke,” but then got realistic with myself and knew I could never be that bold. So, after a couple email exchanges trying to determine a day and time that would work for both of us, I added Friday morning coffee in Brookside with Ginger Rothhaas to my calendar. I was nervous about meeting with her. I really didn’t like meeting new people. And how would I even talk about things like this with her in person? It had been hard enough to write about them. Why was she even meeting me? She must just feel sorry for me, or think my questions are stupid and want to straighten me out. Since she’d been to seminary, of course she’d think she knew all the answers, but I was doubtful because I’d heard all the answers before, and they just didn’t make sense to me. I thought about canceling multiple times that week, but for some reason I didn’t. It would have been easy enough, but I didn’t. And I was pleasantly surprised and relieved when she suggested later in the week that we meet in her Brookside office instead of the coffee shop. Her office was in an older building, but she had decorated it with colorful furniture and pillows and artwork. Color, that was something I really wasn’t comfortable with personally. I preferred to blend in. I generally stuck with black, brown and navy blue, but if I felt particularly wild, I’d step out on a limb and go with gray. It was lighter, you know, might catch someone’s attention. And I also figured if you stick with the same things that haven’t let you down in the past, like black, brown and navy blue, you won’t be disappointed. So, my wardrobe was just like the rest of my life: a pattern, a routine, something I could count on that had less of a chance of surprising or disappointing me. She also had candles lit, I remember, and lots of books. It was very organized, which I liked, and she was very kind and welcoming. So, despite the vivid color, I found the space to be warm and inviting, and I was as comfortable as I could be meeting someone for the first time. There haven’t been many people I have met who I have instinctively trusted, but she was one I just felt a connection with from the beginning. Maybe it was the name, but really, I think it was just a feeling. We talked for a several hours, getting to know each other. I thought we were going to talk about all the questions I had asked the pastor, but instead we just talked and went wherever the conversation led. I told her about me and some of what was going on in my life. She told me about how she landed in self-compassion work and made it very clear that, while she did have clients, she was talking to me as a volunteer for the church and I owed her nothing. After several hours, she asked if I’d like to schedule another time to talk and I quickly said, “I would like to become a client.” It surprised me when the words came out of my mo uth. H adn’t I just wanted to cancel all week? But something about her and our discussion made me want to learn more. She said if I was sure that’s what I wanted to do, and again offered to just talk with me at no charge. I told her I was sure I wanted to become a client and so we scheduled another time to talk. At the end of our next two-hour session , she said she felt it was important to establish a goal. I couldn’t initially come up with one, so she suggested that perhaps a good goal would be to love myself. That was laughable, I thought, so I confidently said, “How about not hating myself as much.” She stopped writing, looked up and saw the seriousness with which I said those words. I added that I like goals but did not believe in setting one that was unattainable. I would be comfortable with perhaps working toward one day not hating myself, and maybe after that a stretch goal could be liking myself if she really wanted something more positive to write down, but

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