Surviving the Fairy Tale
When I was very young and quite a mess, I was trying to live in the adult world without any clue how to be one. I had no role model growing up. I had a hot mess of a mother. I frequently changed jobs, I moved all the time, and I constantly dated the wrong men. I lived a downward spiral, knowing I would die on the path I was on. I didn’t care.
Deep in the trenches of my brain, I dreamed Prince Charming would come in on his white horse and take me away from everything. But, of course, I knew life wasn’t a fairy tale; I just had to have some version of hope to cling to.
In the middle of a toxic relationship, out of the blue, I got a call from my ex-fiancé. I had no idea how he found my number, but it was perfect timing as I needed to hear a reassuring voice. His class reunion was around the corner, and he wanted me to fly to Boston to join him as his date. Not to be romantic, he was just desperate and knew I would fit the impression he wanted to give.
As exciting as it sounded, I was scared to leave my boyfriend. The thought of just gathering a few things and running to the airport had a kind of adventurous feel to it, but I was worried I would be caught. He kept prodding and telling me everything would be fine. I just had to find the courage and take the leap of faith. It was killing me as I was so torn on what to do when suddenly, out of nowhere, I blurted out, “I’ll do it!” He promised there would be a ticket at the counter waiting for me; I just had to go. I did.
I found myself looking all around me as I awaited boarding. I still had knots in my stomach, fearing I would be seen. But once I was safely tucked in my window, sixth-row seat, I melted into the new experience. I knew I would have to deal with the BF upon my return; for now, I would just enjoy this forward move and see what happened next. And then it happened.
We were waiting for the last few passengers to board before they closed the doors to the aircraft. As the last person entered the plane, I turned my head from the window to the aisle. When I looked at him, it was as if someone threw a twenty-pound medicine ball into my stomach. Loudly, I gasped as I realized this is the man I am going to marry. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, I knew it was him; he was my knight in shining armor.
He sat in the aisle seat of the row right behind me. Being stuck in the window seat, I had to figure out how to meet him. I asked the flight attendant if there was another open seat I could move to, she told me sadly, it is a full flight. I was stuck.
I asked the couple next to me to let me out for a bathroom break; I had to figure out my strategy. As I walked back up the aisle, something occurred to me. The seat directly across the aisle from the mystery man was open. I didn’t see any available seats heading down; perhaps they were in the bathroom. So, I went back to the back of the plane and waited. Since no one came out of the bathroom, I pointed out the open seat to the flight attendants. They grabbed their paperwork and looked through it, then looked eerily at each other like maybe they lost someone. Something wasn’t right, but they told me to go ahead and take the seat.
He was sleeping. Now what? As the flight attendants pushed the beverage cart up the aisle, I would punch him in the arm; he wouldn’t know what hit him, and he didn’t. It worked beautifully. We started chatting right away. I noticed he had a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. I was also a smoker, and we were both stuck in non-smoking. We decided to head to the back to light up and grab a cocktail.
The conversation was effortless, and we found ourselves laughing a lot. We didn’t want it to end. We would be landing at our connecting hub of Chicago soon, and we both had over two hours to kill. He knew of a bar under the runway where we could go, get a drink, and talk more. Before we said goodbye, we exchanged phone numbers and addresses.
I found him. He was everything I imagined that I never expected to come true. I was giddy to my core.
Two and a half years after that flight, he flew into Las Vegas on our wedding day. Two days later, we were on the road with the stuff I would take with me to Ohio. I was driving away from my downward spiral and on to a brand-new life 2,500 miles away.
It didn’t take long to realize, “wherever you go, there you are.” I was still a messed-up woman, but now I was dealing with the pain alone in a place I didn’t know.
Reflecting from the place where I stand today, this was a brilliantly designed creation. Everyone played their parts perfectly; my ex got me on the same plane as my future husband. Fortunately, I was paying attention. I manifested this man as well as the miserable life with him. It was tragic, but I didn’t die in Las Vegas, and it pushed me to get to a bookstore.
There I would find my first two books that would help me drag myself out of the dredges of hell I had created for myself. The books fueled me with power and strength I didn’t know I had.
Books are the breadcrumbs I left for myself to find. With each book, I expand in miraculous ways.
I bless every part of the broken road behind me. With each new twist and turn, I allow the new lessons to surface, and I continue moving through, up and on, expanding rapidly. I’m always completely wide open and allowing for that next breadcrumb to show up. And, it always does. I expect it, so it happens.
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