A Slow Leaking Balloon - Love Story Pt. 7

For about 24 whole hours, I actually thought I could marry Creighton.  But even while we were walking back to the cabin, just after he had proposed, I suggested we not tell our families quite yet. 

That's not generally considered to be a good sign.

With every passing mile on our drive back home the next day, the floods of anxiety rose.  I could not go through with it. 

In my flustered, anxious state, I decided I needed some time apart.  Other than my summer in California, we had never managed to stay apart for more than a couple of weeks at a time.  I was feeling so bad about dragging Creighton through all of my mixed emotions that I suggested we make it a month this time so I could really, honestly, truly figure out what was making me so anxious. 

We lasted three weeks.
With one clandestine kiss in the middle.

My Dad was very sick during this time and had been hospitalized.  I went up to visit him and we had a talk about Creighton.  It was a very interesting discussion about opposing forces and the very real possibility that my fears were being played upon- not to protect me from making a bad decision, but to thwart me from making a good one.  Up until then, most of my conversations with friends or family about my anxieties hoisted a red flag in their eyes- which in turn increased my apprehension.  "Love should be wonderful and beautiful and exciting!" They would all say "Maybe it's just not right."  This was the first time anyone suggested that perhaps I had an enemy I needed to stand up to- that rather than ride every wave of emotion that passed through me, I could decide which ones I was going to let run through me and which ones I was going to channel right out of my mind.

My Dad rarely offered advice for my relationships.  He had done so once before in the first love story and I had brushed it aside thinking he couldn't understand.  This time, I paid attention.  I left the hospital turning his words over in my mind.  I was suddenly able to step outside of my clouded cell and view my predicament from a completely different perspective.  As I walked to my car, I could feel that stubborn, iron-willed side of me rise up with new purpose, determined to not let fear conquer me.

I drove away with fresh courage and found myself heading towards Creighton's apartment, which wasn't far from the hospital.  I told myself I would only drive by, but when I pulled up, he had just arrived home from work and was getting out of his car.  Shoot! I was so happy to see his face, but this wasn't supposed to happen! Of course he invited me in for a minute, and of course I wasn't going to turn him down in my freshly fear-flushed state.  I was feeling pretty darn good, and it spilled over into our visit.  By the time I left that evening, we were engaged yet again.  I drove home in a state of complete peace.  And there even seemed to be butterflies of happiness flitting around inside.  I told my roommate about our engagement when I arrived home and didn't even flinch- not one teeny tiny bit. 

I awoke the next morning to sunshine streaming through the window and lay there for a few minutes - almost holding my breath- to assess the internal situation.

Complete peace.  With a sunny lining. 

I wish I could've bottled it and put it into some capsules for a daily regimen because from that moment forward I was a slow-leaking balloon.  Not a week had passed before all of that peace and light had seeped right out of me.  Creighton took me up to Snowbird on a perfect summer evening and officially proposed to me on a mountainside trail.  He gave me the most beautiful ring- one he had chosen himself for me. It nearly made my heart stop beating- I couldn't believe it was all real. And then came the dizziness and the knots in my stomach and the flesh on high alert.

Outside of that perfect moment on the mountain, I was crumbling inside. In a matter of days I lost 20 pounds.