Last night, driving toward the last sunset of summer layoff, I was stumbling in the description of my own confusing feelings on returning to the studio, and M said something  rather poetic.

“It’s like you’re about to jump into a cold lake.  You have been standing on the edge for so long, counting down, 3…2…1…but it’s not time.  3…2…no!  3…2…

Once you jump in, you will feel so good.  Refreshed, energetic, in your element.  Comfortable, even.  You just need to make that first splash.”

His flawless analogy revealed more than the fact that I had obviously bloated his ears full of my bipolar, excited laments on the subject far too many times, but also that he was listening.  I mean, really listening.  The kind that defines passivity with its fervent opposition.  Listening with an attentive purpose, wheels turning, taking in every word and searching his own glossary of Kirsten closeness to dissect the true meaning in each one.

This morning I am grateful for the chance to dive in, and for the support of someone who knows just when to let go of my hand and whisper “Jump.”

collage by Merve Özaslan.