In the last chapter, I mentioned that Celta had moved into an apartment in Augusta, Georgia after leaving the hospital. That didn't go so well. Her problems were an enormous challenge. Her weight was so low that I feared she might die. She was also drinking when she left the hospital.
I will point out later how our love, her love for me, was influential in helping her to overcome problems that had clearly been part of a long pattern for her life prior to when she met me. Before I get to that, I wanted to describe some more details about what was happening during these next few months.
After she lost her apartment, I put her up in a hotel one evening but that didn't go well. She couldn't stay there and we had to find a place for her.
Finally, she said she had a mother in Athens Georgia. So, we started driving there.
When we got there and knocked at the door her mother came and her first reaction was to turn her away. I didn't say anything, but I had such a desperate look on my face. It's sad but that might have been very influential in her mother – Faye Head – opening the door and letting her in.
I gave her a hug and got her phone number; told her I would be back to visit as soon as possible.
Soon after that, her father rented an apartment for her in Athens.
I met some other friends of hers and her family. It was curious that one of them, a woman said that Celta only uses people and that she cannot love anyone. This was clearly not true. Celta was doing so much that demonstrated she was thinking of me and concerned about my well-being and happiness.
It's important to note that I was living with my parents at the time. This was a temporary situation. I cannot overstate how profoundly disinterested my parents seemed to be in me and my life, my dreams, hopes, aspirations, and desires!
I loved to hear about Celta's talents. She had studied acting beginning before she was in high school.
It was Sunday. April 15th, a week before my birthday. It was a bit cool this morning as we arrived at the Botanical Gardens in Athens. She had suggested this place.
The sun was passing through the misty morning fog as we walked along a path. I reached out to take her hand, feeling as if something emotional was rippling through me at her touch. It was still early in the day and Celta was wearing a white coat made of soft cotton. I was warm-natured and only had a short-sleeve shirt on.
"Can I take off this glove?" I asked. "My hand will keep your hands warm."
She smiled as we gazed at the misty sun above and ahead. This felt so good and right. I felt awkward at first as I saw another couple. Celta and I were not a "couple" per se. I let the thought go. This felt too good.
Her hand was so very thin. As I mentioned, she had anorexia and was very much underweight. I could feel her tiny fingers intertwined in mine which sent a certain particular feeling flowing up my arm, almost like a chill or a soft rippling stream flowing up my arm. Her smile as she gazed at me gave me butterflies. I felt a lightness, almost like floating. I felt serene. And I smiled back.
What did she see in me, I wondered?
"This is nice... good," I said. Adding with a slight chuckle, "I have always wanted to feel this. I mean even as a kid. It is like a hunger that I forgot that I had or that I was too afraid to acknowledge..." I then added, "maybe acknowledging it would have made life too sad because I would know that I wanted something that wasn't available."
She understood that I was talking about what had been missing in my family. Celta always seemed to know when things had not been going well at home.
We developed synchronicity of mind and thought... respect and love... yes, respect and love felt like it was not something I had known previously. This was strange because Celta and I had what seemed like a completely platonic relationship and I have had supportive friends previously. My friends Thomas and Jo-Lee were real good friends, but the way Celta looked at me was different.
And was it platonic? I mean was it free from sensual desire? It seemed that way but occasionally my body reacted differently... my body was reacting sexually even though this would not have been known to Celta.
What do I mean when I say we developed synchronicity of mind and thought? I don't mean the tired cliché of completing the other person's sentences. The way we looked at the world was the same. The way we felt about things. The way we moved toward one another and the way our expressions were mirrored by each other.
The days and weeks passed, and I kept coming to visit her on the weekends...
Celta could seem to pick up on the emotional pain I had been experiencing during the week, with my parents. It was almost like she had a psychic connection to me. Almost like that!
I could talk to Celta about anything that was happening in my life. How and why, I felt such low self-esteem living with my parents... the emotional, verbal, and psychological abuse I experienced from my parents. I could talk about it all.
Sometimes I didn't need to keep talking about something that was on my mind. I had a sense of being in sync with Celta and a sense that she understood and felt with and for me. So, I let myself rest in the comfort of her arms. For example, in one instance, it would begin with my arm around her at the waist and her arms around my back and we just stayed like that smiling at each other.
All week, whenever I became stressed, bored, or had time to dream, my thoughts went to Celta.
My parents seemed completely unconcerned or uninterested in where I went or what I did with my life. I mean they never asked me.
I spoke to Celta for over an hour, maybe hours on the phone each day. We had only one phone, so it's a miracle that it was possible to find the phone free for that long.
I don't think they heard anything we were saying. I could tell if someone answered another phone. Celta could tell from my voice if I was having a hard time at "home." No, it wasn't a home for me.
I struggled to explain to my parents that I was doing the best I could to find ongoing gainful employment. Yet, I never felt good enough. They thought I was deliberately refusing to work as an engineer and use my degree. I thought we had gone over that! I was going to use my undergraduate degree to get a graduate degree. They seemed to think I was deliberately sabotaging job interviews! It was absurd. I would have loved to have a way to get out of that house and live on my own.
Yet, when I saw Celta, it was as if I was ten feet tall. I felt confident, valuable, worthy of love, and important.
Perhaps I was keeping this relationship private in a way - it was mine; she was mine. That sounds like something you might say in a devoted, romantic relationship. Yet wasn't this relationship platonic? Well, it's complicated. When I was with Celta we had not even been kissing. But my body was reacting or responding sexually in subtle ways.
Spring days passed through April and into May and for me it was like I was riding on gentle waves on an ocean – rising and falling – it was so soothing and peaceful. One Sunday or Saturday was like another.
It was an ordinary day in late summer like any other day. Sunday, May 13th. I greeted her with a hug. Instead of parting, we remained in one another's arms. Smiling at one other. It felt so different. I felt at peace... but I had something on my mind that I wanted to share.
"Can you hold me?" I ask indicating her bed. "I want to lie down next to you." There wasn't much room on her bed, but we weren't big. She lay against the wall facing me. My first thought was to curl up into a fetal position, but I turned to face her.
"Something happened?" she said in the form of a question.
"The same things ... my mother... ah actually..." My voice trailed off like a sigh of relief. My breathing slowed. I felt like my muscles were relaxing. I had been feeling restless, but I noticed my body was sinking comfortably into the bed. It suddenly seemed unnecessary to discuss what had been on my mind.
I looked down at her hands to see where they were. She looked at me. I raised her right hand with my right hand, placing my left hand over her hand while turning my eyes up to meet hers. We smiled.
For a few moments, we just looked into each other's eyes. I noticed our breathing was synchronized. I briefly thought I was never good at keeping a beat and let a slightly more amused smile pass across my face which was matched by Celta and from that our smiles drifted back to a more serene smile.
This was hypnotic and I let it last a moment longer. I was lost in her gaze... unaware of anything else. Her eyes looking into mine.
"This feels different to me," I said. "I think I have hungered for this nourishment for as long as I can remember. When I hold your hand, I feel something amazing."
After a brief pause, I added, "I love you."
"I love you too."
On another occasion, I remember how her very incredibly thin body became so evident at one particular moment. It was a warm spring day in early June and Faye, Celta's mother wanted a few photographs of both of us. I wanted copies of the photographs myself. The three of us selected different poses because I wanted to remember and hold onto the image of Celta looking and smiling at me. I needed that so much! It was a passionate hunger that I felt to see that.
Even if the angle that her mother was using to take the photograph could not capture her face or her eyes looking into mine, I would see it. I knew I would see that perspective in my mind's eye when I saw the photo.
Anyway, there was one pose where Faye suggested that I get down on one knee and let Celta sit on my other leg. I remember Celta starting to fall and I was scared. I gasped "grab, hold me" as I tried to find a place to catch her. She had a short-sleeve shirt, and I was aware of her bones around her sides, back, and her arms. I was afraid she might get hurt no matter where I tried to hold her because she was so thin, with hardly any muscle or fatty tissue.
She rested upon my arms and didn't indicate that she had been hurt.
When we were apart, each day we told each other those words "I love you." It was so easy, so natural, and so right. To be honest, I was so excited that I would go first. I guess I am just passionate in that way. But if it was not reciprocated, it wouldn't be as special, or I wouldn't feel such a desire to tell her "I love you."
Sometimes I would put the phone down after talking, lie back, and smile, resting in the serenity and joy of the moment. Picturing her. Reflecting on our shared experiences.
We were both trying to find meaning and direction in life - a purpose. I'm not just guessing. We talked about these things.
At one point she seemed to be searching for something to say about our feelings for each other. She looked up and saw a song playing on the TV. It was called "I Don't Know Much But I Know I Love You" by Aaron Neville and Linda Ronstadt.
"Yes, indeed!" I said with a smile.
It is hard to overstate how surprisingly disinterested my parents were in anything at all that mattered to me and that included a lack of curiosity as to who it is I that I am speaking to so often... or who I am seeing.
My mother would become so angry at me for "hiding out in my room." Yet, it seemed that both parents had no interest at all in my life! Plus, growing up she never took much interest in me spending quality time with her. It really disgusted me. She brought it on herself by her lack of interest in anything at all about what made me happy or where I was going with my life. It was mind-boggling to me just how any parent could be like this!
This feeling of disgust would come to a head sometime later when my mother reached out her hand to touch me and I recoiled instinctually before I could think about how she might respond to that. It was like realizing I had touched a snake - I have a phobia of snakes. She became so furious and didn't want me staying in her home at all, she was literally spitting and wanted to throw me out that night.
That's all I can remember about that. It was chilling!
The fact that I had an existence apart from her frustrated and angered her. And my father could only go along with his wife's feelings. So, they seemed to criticize everything that I was doing because it wasn't "right" in their minds... as if there is only one right way to do things.
As I mentioned, Celta was picking up on these tensions and how hurtful it was to me. She was visibly sad, disturbed, and angered that anyone would hurt me.
I wondered how many people in the world experienced these kinds of singular experiences. I mean during times that seemed dark, it makes a difference when you have someone who respects, values, and honors you as a person.
I noticed how easy it was to connect to and empathize with Celta as my friend.
I know that the other experiences I had as a psychiatric social worker at Georgia Regional Hospital were extremely positive and rewarding. I could sense that I had developed some amazing communication skills and a capacity for empathy. Patients would tell me this or they would tell my supervisors and they would ask when they would see me again. We shouldn't leave that out of the narrative.
My sense of self-confidence continued to grow as well.
There is something important that I must discuss first before we move further on with my journey of success which we will pick up in the next chapter.