For Phil

This is for Phil.

My heart is swollen. If you know me, you know this. I love most people I meet. I will embrace who you are and I will feel kindly to you. I have been like this most my life, accepting people with my best interest and not. With all this love, there are very few I hold in the lock box inside my heart. Phil is one of them.

Phil is different. When I met him I was freshly out of wilderness therapy, with a raw heart and knotted hair. We met downtown at a petting zoo. When we met it wasn’t fireworks, it was instant friendship. I can remember first seeing the twinkle in his eye as he excitedly jumped in the petting zoo. I recognized his excitement, it matched my own.

From the day we met, when I was 19, we became inseparable. I had never felt this type of companionship. He was outrageous, singing loudly, eating weird gas station food, jamming out to his headphones and making a grand entrance day after day. He was loving, always welcoming me with a big hug, a twinkle in his eye and affirming words. The days fast forward, he was my best friend. There was no thing he didn’t know and he loved me anyways.

I know this may sound like a typical love story, and who knows, maybe it is to you. To me it is the story of meeting my first soul mate.

Time wore on and it was Phil and I against the world. We laughed our asses off every night. From being stoned on the couch and poking each other (yes, we are easy to entertain) to dancing in our front yard with Kuna Louise. When we weren’t laughing, we were having a heart to heart. I was in love with him. Entirely, and completely. And I knew he was in love with me.

Time wore on and it got the best of me. With transferring to a new “big kid” school and being out of my comfort zone, I couldn’t adapt. Yes, I feel like I am a master at adapting, and this time around, I was struggling. In typical Amanda fashion, I changed everything. I changed the food I ate, the clothes I wore, the beliefs I once held, the home I lived in, and I changed my relationship status.

Quickly after moving to Eugene, Phil and I broke up. It was absolutely one of the hardest things I have ever done. I can remember looking in the mirror before we talked and hating what I saw. Who had I become? Where did Mandi go? Why did I feel this way? What the fuck is my issue? And I knew I had to do it. We talked and I cried, a lot. We lived only half a block away from each other and I was sinking slowly.

He knew.

It was not the typical break up. Yes, there were hurt feelings, and we still loved each other hard. Every day my heart hurt. I was so fucking confused, I didn’t know up from down. I knew how badly I had hurt him and it fucking crushed me. I know Phil is the most resilient human being on this earth, and it still weighed me down.

Time passed on and I quickly was sucked into one the darkest periods of my life. There was (literally) no sunshine in my life. Everything was gray and I was losing my fucking mind. I was living with my childhood best friend and her best friend (whom now is one of mine) and I slowly became a shell of myself. I got a horrible skin rash on my face, lost more than twenty pounds and began to lose my hair. I no longer cared what I looked like. I did not socialize and did not have the energy to go out.

I remember falling into this well. Phil eagerly put out his hand to pull me out. I grabbed it, crying and guilty. Why was he helping me when I just hurt him so deeply? I didn’t deserve his love. Everyday he would come over lively and knock on my bedroom door. If he hadn’t done this, I don’t know where I would be, and I mean that. With my skin red and raw, he told me I was beautiful, day in and day out. I had never felt so unlovable in all of my life. He hugged me while I cried and told him of my stuck mindset. He cried with me. Where had his best friend gone?

I remember one particularly bad morning, he texted me to come over, he always knew when I was struggling. I most definitely was not okay. On the walk over, hot tears ran down my face. What the fuck was wrong with me? When he opened the door, I immediately fell onto his familiar couch and cried. He put his arms around me and listened to me cry. He held my hands and empathetically didn’t say a word and held space for my massive pain.

He asked his mom for help. He let my friends know I was struggling, he connected with my parents. Why did I deserve this angel in my life? Why did he still love me? Why was he so kind and supportive of me? I asked myself these questions everyday.

To get some (literal) sunshine in my life, we drove to Bend every weekend for nine weeks straight. He didn’t care he was new to Eugene and trying to make new friends. He felt my pain and would do anything to stop it. Even though I had stopped loving me, he hadn’t.

During our last trip in the spring, months after moving to Eugene, we sat outside of Looney Bean letting our translucent skin be warmed by the sun. He put his arm around me and told me he saw flickers of myself coming back, and how much he had missed me. Fuck. I missed me. And just like that, the spell had been lifted.

Slowly, very slowly, I began the crawl out of the deep dark well of depression. Phil was waiting at the top with a flashlight encouraging my every move. On weekends, he always texted me to hang out to do things I once enjoyed.  And I went. Sometimes it was difficult, and he was always there, smiling, and being himself.

I began to feel like myself again. I ate food I liked, I smiled more often, I combed my knotted hair, I went out on the weekends. And Phil was by my side with every step of the way, giving me positive encouragement and all the love I needed to heal.

As I write this now, I am flooded with gratitude and deep love. I cried the whole time writing this for it still is fresh in my memory. Phil has reinforced everything that I believe in and stand for. Love has no boundaries. And when you love someone, just because you break up does not mean you have to cut that person out. If you loved them before, the love can shift.

Why do I deserve Phil? I will never know. I stopped asking when I realized we are in this for life. Together. He is my family. He is my blood. My brothers love him as their own. And my parents love and treat him as their own. Phil’s heart is possibly the biggest (and most playful) I have ever experienced, and to have experienced it has been the biggest gift. He will always make me smile. He will always have that twinkle in his eye. And he will always be apart of my family.

I am searching for words to further describe how I feel, and there are none.

Phil, if you are reading this, I know you teared up ;).

I will tell you what I always tell you. I love you. And I am so fucking proud of you. Yes, you drive me crazy when you change the music every thirty seconds, and I couldn’t ask for a better co-pilot.  Thank you, for everything.

Saturday Afternoon

Have you ever been to a Whole Foods around lunch time? It’s crowded AF.

Today I went for lunch. They always have delicious hot food that is far too expensive. Swimming upstream, I finally paid for my food. I went to sit down and there were literally no open spots. There were tables scattered with random people eating alone. I glanced around the eating area and without much thought asked a beautiful girl my age if I could sit across from her. She nodded yes and we went on with our business.

She began talking to the woman next to her with the new baby. “You have such a beautiful baby,” she said. “She looks just like you. Her eyes do. You have beautiful eyes.” The mom sheepishly thanked her, unsure if she was being truthful or not.  She was.

The young fit mom left and I was curious. She talked like me, with candor and compassion. Her curly dark hair, her dark hazel eyes flecked with gold; she was stunning. I started a conversation. Her name was Amanda. She just moved home from Salt Lake City. She told me of her mother. She was sick with cancer; she was going to pass any day now. I asked her how she was doing. She smiled and said she was okay, that she felt different about death, that her mom had fought a long, tough fight. She had accepted her mom dying. She spoke about memories with her mom. As I listened, my heartbeat slowed, beating a long steady pulse. I would be heartbroken if I lost my mother, I thought. She looked at me, locked eyes and apologized for the heaviness. I smiled and told her I thought it was beautiful that she has the ability to speak her feelings and that many people are unable to. I thanked her for her bravery and her authenticity. She smiled, not sure what to say next. I smiled back, allowing the silence to comfort her. We talked some more, about our jobs, our passions, the freedom we have. I asked her how long she would be in town. She didn’t have an answer. My insides swelled, oh how I know the feeling of being a wanderer.

I didn’t feel the need to hug her like I do with so many that are hurting. She didn’t need my comfort; she didn’t need my love, or my assurance. She was staying with herself, feeling it all. She was alone and sure of the unknown. Damn, was that a refreshing thing to see! I smiled, thanking God for this interaction. As I got up, I wished her the best, told her to keep kickin’ ass. She smiled saying thank you, that it was so nice to meet me. I wish her mom a painless passing and met her eyes. We saw each other. I smirked the smirk I always smirk, and walked away thinking, thank you for today, thank you for the reflection, and thank you for everyday. I threw away the remnants of my food, feeling her eyes locked on me. I looked up and she smiled again. She was going to be okay, only because she decided so.