The Key To Door №2 — The Story of How I Became Emotionally Available Again
And the guy had nothing to do with it
I battled for years to find a career I truly enjoy.
Until I realized I just needed to really step out of my comfort zone and stop rationalizing everything. “No safe and peachy way around this one, lady!”
So one day I just opened the door and stumbled out into the unknown. Knees shaking, hands in the air, eyes and mind wide open.
Since then, I got so cocky entering unknown territory and facing my fears, I even dared to start a blog to share my stories and opinions nobody really asked for.
Bad-ass, right? Or bad-sh*t crazy. Who cares.
But I recently realized that I have in front of me another important door to open. The one I could not ignore anymore: leading to a potential new relationship.
And Boy, this one is way harder to even get to!
I have to push around my emotional baggage, navigate between landmines of forgotten insecurities, step over skeletons of past relationships, and a big stack of fossilized butterflies.
Room of Horrors.
And I can’t even imagine how scary are the creatures lurking behind Exit Number 2!?
This was NOT a challenge I wanted to face for too long. I convinced myself that this hatch was in fact sealed from the outside and I just needed a brave, mature man to open it for me.
So I dressed up in the full armor of the independent businesswoman who doesn’t care, wrote “F*ck Off!” on my forehead, and walked away from the door. Pony-tail between the legs.
Then I met a guy. Let’s call him ‘Bubble Boy’. He liked dissonant songs, to tame the wind and had surprising cooking skills.
Wait, it’s not what you think, do not reach for the tissues yet! He was not the one to rescue my scaredy-cat ass.
But he did something even more important: he slammed his own door loud enough to make me realize that I was actually close to opening mine a little bit.
I started to peel off my disguise and face the ghosts guarding Door No 2.
Sure, I pissed my pant-suit (excuse my language) and I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, swooping around in the dark.
But this encounter reminded me that I am still capable of wanting to know a man better, creating a connection or even fighting my evident commitment-phobia.
And it doesn’t matter if the intention was unilateral, for the wrong guy or if it was my new-found emotional vulnerability that made ‘Bubble Boy’ want to emergency parachute from my balcony.
What really matters is that it finally happened!
This rejection made me realize that at last, I made the first step towards opening this f*cking, creaky, heavy door too. Yes. All by myself!
And for that, I’m just simply glad he crossed my path. No ego bruised.
The bottom line is. Was. Will be.
We all have the right to hesitate, to be afraid, to get lost. Change direction so many times it makes us dizzy. To a point when we prefer to just sit in a cozy bubble, staring at the doorway for a while.
All this means that we truly care about going somewhere better.
But the only way to get anywhere at all is by actually opening the doors (duh!?). Our own! Without overthinking it. One after the other. Just one terrifying existential crisis at a time.
Because no one else will and should do it for us.
It almost pains me how powerful this boring cliché turned out to be. In every aspect of my life.
Up to a point where I look around and I don’t even see doors anymore.
Only opportunities.
Hope to see ya’ll on the other side!
