Is This A Date Or Therapy?

I recently learned that I grew up in a dysfunctional household.

By a show of hand’s who else grew up in a dysfunctional household?

(Maybe there was an alcoholic parent. Maybe a codependent one. Maybe one with OCD, rage, or simply a parent who didn’t communicate love or emotions in the way you needed.)

Take a look around.

Exhale a sigh of relief.

You are not alone.

Now, let me start by saying my parents love me deeply.

And also, I believe that as humans, we are limited. The love were able to give is only as deep as the love we have for ourselves.

We’ve all heard, “parents love you more than anything in the world “But isn’t that, in itself, a little dysfunctional? Because aren’t we supposed to love ourselves the most? Aren’t we supposed to fill our own cup first so that love overflows rather than pouring from an empty one, running on fumes, never feeling whole?

Are you picking up what I’m putting down?

I digress.

It wasn’t until this past December that I realized I had grown up in a dysfunctional household. And it took meeting a man to figure that out.

Now, before I tell you about said man, you should know I have a book coming out.

And in this book, I talk about my erratic dating history.

An ex that passed away.

Another that got arrested in my home.

My short-lived attempt at being a sugar baby.

I could go on, but I’ll save it for the book.

Now, somewhere in those pages, I also mention that in 2020, I stopped dating for the better part of four years. I was exhausted from meeting men I ended up taking care of.

At a certain point, after yet another chaotic dating experience, I had to pause and ask myself:

What the fuck is wrong with me that I keep attracting men with addiction and codependency issues?

Because at a certain point, we get to consider the wise words of Taylor Swift:

“It’s me, I’m the problem it’s me”

So I stopped dating. Cold turkey.

Just like I had quit alcohol.

Just like I had quit cannabis a few months before that.

I was on a mission to rescue myself. To heal my root chakra.

Through deep soul-searching, healing work, and a lot of unlearning, I found myself entering a new world when I was ready to date again.

A world where God became my matchmaker.

Now, when I say that, I meanI trusted that when it was time, God would align me with the right people. The right lessons. The highest good for all involved.

Cut to December.

I had just returned to Miami when I felt a nudge to download Hinge.

This had happened before. And when God is your matchmaker, you listen.

So I downloaded the app.

And then I let it sit there, unopened, for a few days. Trusting I would understand why when I needed to.

Fast forward I’m out walking my dog, and I run into two guys I know. They’re standing on the street, talking about cocaine.

Now cocaine is not a drug…

Well, it’s not a drug I haven’t done.

But it also not a drug I’ve touched or thought of in well over a decade.

Yet somehow, standing in this conversation about cocaine it felt really present for me.

Like I was supposed to hear it.

That’s how Spirit works.

We get clues. Signs. And the more in tune we are, the clearer they become.

So, naturally, I did what any modern-day shaman would do, I googled the spiritual meaning of cocaine.

Yeah, that wasn’t it.

But within hours, I felt the nudge to set up a Hinge profile.

So I did.

Later that evening, I checked the app.

I had a message from Phil.

Now, Phil lives in Boca Raton not typically where I have my location set, but hey. If he’s open to driving, who am I to say no?

I check his profile.

Long Island native. A few towns over from where I grew up.

Attractive.

Seemingly normal.

A trauma therapist.

Intriguing.

I swipe right.

We have better bagels in Boca” he writes.

So true, I reply.

We start talking. He starts rattling off places from back home. And then he asks,

“What was the bar on Jericho Turnpike everyone used to go to?”

I bite my lip, smile, and type “The Inn Between.”

Now, if you know, you know.

The Inn Between was the bar.

Thanksgiving Eve, Christmas Eve, those were the nights.

The ones you don’t remember.

The ones you feel for a few days after.

And Phil replies,

I used to do a lot of cocaine in that bathroom. I just felt like I needed to tell you that.

And right then, I knew.

God, my matchmaker, was at work.

Because I, too, had done cocaine in that bathroom.

I had blacked out in that bathroom.

For fucks sake, I had even crushed up and snorted Vicodin with my best friends in that bathroom.

Needless to say, I was invested.

Time to find out why God sent him.

Within a few short days, I learned:

Phil is sober.

Phil is a trauma-informed therapist.

Phil has two kids.

Phil is going through a divorce.

And plot twist we have mutual friends. Turns out, he and one of my best friends met at one of those wild Christmas Eves.

Fast forward we meet for tea.

We connect.

He feels familiar. Like home.

Even as he shared with me how he relapsed a year ago and had to dig himself out of a hole.

He figured it out I thought, He picked himself up, a man who has done healing work.

Could he be the one?

No, Lauren a voice whispered. Don’t be delusional. Trust the process.

Allow this to be a reason before thinking about a season, or lifetime.

A week later, I happen to be in Boca for lunch, so I stop by Phil’s office.

We’re talking life, work and then he gets up, walks to his bookshelf, and pulls out a book.

I think this would be good for you to use with clients, he says handing it to me.

I look down.

Adult Children of Alcoholics and Dysfunctional Families Workbook.

Tears well up in my eyes.

Second time meeting this man, and I’m about to lose it on his therapy couch.

What’s going on? he asks.

I take a breath.

Ever since you showed up in my life a whole week ago mind you.

I’ve felt my inner child surface for healing.

Patterns I thought I had worked through. Feeling like I’m walking on eggshells. Being a perfectionist. Afraid to make a mess.

He nods.

Can I ask you a few questions?

Is this therapy or am I going to date this man I wonder.

But simply say yes.

He flips open the workbook and rattles off the identifier questions.

And that was it.

Sitting on the couch of a man who used to do cocaine in the same bar bathroom as me God delivered the final piece to my puzzle.

The key to my freedom.

Five years of unraveling, unlearning, and trusting my intuition.

Something simply clicked.

Phil and I spent part of Christmas and New Year’s Day together.

As it turns out, he was only meant to be in my life for a reason.

Not only did he help me unlock a door, he also started referring clients to me.

And that, my friends.

Is how God does matchmaking.