A Leap of Faith Part One. Transformation doesn't always make a splash, yet sometimes...

Transformation: A Leap of Faith

Change can come suddenly or gradually. Looking back over my life, I realize the person I am today is shaped by both positive and negative experiences. I like who I am now, with all my complexities. As a Pisces born on the cusp of Aries, I’ve made many of my decisions based on how I felt in the moment, not always making the wisest choices. Often, I found myself in situations, places, or with people that were uncomfortable—and at times, even dangerous. But I have no regrets, because those experiences have led me to the person I am today.

I can clearly see now where I ignored the warning signs, the signals that were as loud as being at a railroad crossing with flashing red lights and the crossing gates coming down. Or like the robot from the old TV series, shouting, "DANGER! DANGER!" with its arms flailing.

I know, without a doubt, that there's a God and a guardian angel watching over me, as I am still here—somewhat wiser for it.

Recently, I found myself reflecting on someone I now consider a friend. Our paths first crossed when he became my physical therapist. Our conversations, at first, were light. We’d talk about our families, my plans for improving my health, and nothing too deep—until one day, he shared that he and his wife were getting a divorce. I responded with a simple truth: “Marriage is difficult to maintain.” I couldn’t offer advice based on my own experience, but those gentle conversations continued for about three years.

As my physical therapy appointments became less regular, the pandemic hit. The need to care for my health became more urgent, and I realized I needed to schedule more appointments. I resumed a fitness plan to manage my pain at Davis Integrative Medicine, which offered chiropractic services, physical therapy, and equipment—all while adhering to the necessary safety protocols. At first, I was hesitant, but as the pain in my body increased, I weighed the risks against the need for relief. After over 40 years in education, I longed for human connection, especially during such an isolating time. Though the threat of the virus was real, I took an educated risk, noticing how diligently everyone was following the protocols. I’m so glad I did. My physical health improved, as did my mental attitude. Gradual changes, leading to positive outcomes.

The most astonishing part of this journey was discovering that my physical therapist had been writing a blog for the past three years. It was filled with tips on eating well, exercising with simple techniques, and reflections on his own life experiences. I hadn’t been keeping up with my emails until recently, and it was only then that I discovered his blog. It all felt like Divine Order. As I read through his posts, I began to open up to him about my own past—things I hadn’t shared with even close family or friends.

I confided in him about my struggles with trusting people, particularly White people, due to my own past experiences. My therapist, a White man of Greek descent, patiently listened and never judged me. He didn’t offer comparisons like, “That wouldn’t have been me,” or “I would have done this differently.” He didn’t say, “You shouldn’t feel that way,” or “Don’t talk to me unless you’re done with him.” Instead, he created a safe space for me to share my story.

For the first time, I felt safe enough to talk about my experiences of sexual abuse, the anger I held toward others, and the emotional abuse I endured in my marriage. I will always be grateful for those moments of vulnerability, because they allowed me to face those painful memories honestly. It was through this process that I gained a better perspective on my past—based on who I am today and what tools I need to heal and find closure.

Now, when I choose to remember those awful moments, it no longer brings up negative feelings or pain. I’ve forgiven those involved, and I’ve nurtured my inner child. I feel peace—a peace that, to me, is like heaven. I’m so glad I took that plunge and stepped out of my comfort zone to open myself to another person. I took a leap of faith—and I landed with a friend.