Strangely, I feel closer to Sapphire than I have with anyone before.
“By now, you should be ready to share your most precious secret, trusting them to keep it.”
This sounds deep. Raw and almost fragile, and something gnaws inside of me, telling me this is the time I fess up and tell Sapphire about my OCD, my next action step to fully letting her in.
“To start, I want you to stare into each other’s eyes and simply look at one another. Nothing more. Just breathe. What do you feel? What do you see? Take note.” Simone pauses, giving us time to focus.
The world fades away around us until there’s only me, only Sapphire, and the silence between us. Without words, something moves through the space we share. There’s no pretense, no bravado, no confrontation; just connection reflecting back at me.
Simone’s voice, which is much quieter now, says, “Repeat after me. This is my safe space.”
“This is my safe space.” The low murmur is the only hint that there are other people around us, because all I see and hear is Sapphire.
“I trust you,” Simone says, urging us to repeat her mantra.
“I trust you,” Sapphire and I say in unison. “I do,” I tag on the end, making her cheeks flush.
Thank you, she mouths shyly.
“Repeat,” Simone prompts, “I trust you.”
“I trust you, Sapphire.” I add her name, saying and meaning it with my whole chest.
“I trust you too, Elijah.” Sapphire’s voice is small, but there’s no doubt in my mind she means it too.
“This circle is free of judgment.” Simone smoothly sails past us as if she’s floating. “Now, breathe in through your nose.”
Sapphire and I inhale in a deep breath, mirroring each other’s movements.
“And out through the mouth.” Simone’s warm voice drops to a whisper. “You are safe here. This is your safe space.”
We let out a long exhale and I swallow, my body relaxing under the guidance of a guru.
“Whatever is on your mind, whatever you want to share, tell the person in front of you. In your own time, share the thing that scares you the most.”
Then we’re plunged into silence for a moment until, from across the room, a few mutters start as people begin to share their deepest worries, their voices low so that no one else but the person in front of them can hear them.
Sapphire is the first to unravel, her voice laced with a sad undertone. “It hurts me when people tell me I’m too much sometimes.”
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline in surprise, but I don’t interrupt when she adds, “I act like I don’t care, but I do. I know I have a bubbly personality, get excited about things, and can be over the top, but that’s who I am.”
I hate it that she feels this way. “I love your energy. You make me feel better.” Like a tonic for my soul.
“I would never change for anyone.” This is the most serious I’ve ever known her.
“I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“But it hurts when people make fun of me, or they say they find me entertaining. I’m not trying to be entertaining; I’m just being me.” She stalls as if too afraid to share her precious secrets. “My positive cup is always half full.”
My cup feels full since I met her. It’s overflowing.
Like she’s walking on tiptoes, she adds, “I’m not immature or childish, I just like life and want to help others find their happy too.”
“I like that you don’t take life too seriously; it’s what gave your business an edge.”
“It still hurts when people call me names, though. I do try to brush it off, but sometimes it’s a little tricky to unstick.”
I’m mad inside that anyone would make her feel like that. Hell, I even told her she was annoying and said she was too much and I hate myself even more for it. I try to discipline my voice to maintain control when I say, “Yes, you’re bubbly, but you’re not loud, you’re exciting, but you never interrupt anyone. Don’t ever apologize for being happy and full of life. You listen to people, Sapphire, and you pay attention. Don’t listen to the people who try to tear you down. That’s athemproblem, not ayouproblem. You’re a vibe.”