We have begun our project of creating a housetruck on a budget... we recently went to Sacramento to pick up a free old decrepid cabover camper...so that we can part it out and use some of it's innards.
What an ordeal!
Not an easy task to borrow a truck... rent an unusually sized trailer... go to Sacramento during rush hours... try to get a decrepid falling apart camper on a lil' trailer after dark... realize it would be best to stay the night and tackle the task in day light... buy pillows and blankets to sleep in the truck (we ended up sleeping at a gracious hosts house)... wake up to see what we really were trying to tote away... finagle a semi sturdy system to keep this rotting camper on the trailer... and travel back to San Jose with fingers crossed on the entire trip... then manouvering it all up our steep road and down our tiny driveway... create a system to get it safely off the trailer and.... FEEEEEWWWWWW! start to dissassemble the thing.
What an oportunity!
An oportunity not only to save money on parts but an oportunity to experience my childhood fears melt away as the man I love shines his light on the scars of times past.
As our camper task became more complicated I found myself becoming more and more tense inside and scared of... of ....
OF WHAT?
I was scared of how my partner would react to all the complications... I was scared he would blame me for anything that was going wrong or that he would blow up verbally and break things... or that he would give up and leave me there to cry till he came back smoldering in frustration and anger... why would I fear this? Childhood experiences can create reactions such as these. My father had quite a temper back then... and unintentionally he wounded my phsyche... once away from the sharpness of his own childhood wounds... Scars formed over mine... They still bleed when situations pick at the edges of the scar and uncover the wounded child still inside...
Our camper situation opened a wound and exposed a scared child... any time Bret would encounter an obsticle I held my breathe and braced myself for an onslaught of rage and confusion... tears would even fall down my cheeks as difficulties would arise... but Bret never lost his consentration or his head... he stayed calm and patient... I showed him my child and he held it tenderly with his presense and melted it's fear away with his beautifully bright light... he is not who my father was... he has created a safe place for my wounds to heal... I appreciate him so... I savour the time we share together... he is a man... and I a woman... sharing and healing eachother with our own special brew of love.