Enemies You Love, You Tell. . .
I met Sally in Scotland’s Glasgow Airport. This was my family’s first night in Scotland. Not hers. She and her family had lived there for a year, so she showered us with advice and her advising did not stop when we landed in Machrihanish. And it took twelve months to cut her off. When she moved to a Scottish house across town, I was finally separated from the jealous rage I felt every day when I saw the “know-it-all.”
I lost contact with Sally in 1989 when we moved back to the United States, but after my brother’s suicide in 2012, she reached out through social media. She’d become a “life coach.” Reminiscent rage empowered me to thank her but refuse her support.
Three years later, complex PTSD caught up with me. Remembering Sally’s vocation, I wondered if life coaching could help heal an insurmountable feeling of hopeless dissatisfaction. I reached out to ask and she insisted on coaching for free.
Over the next year, she worked relentlessly to pull me out from under resentment, fear, and insecurity. She helped me find what made my heart tick. I rediscovered writing and started a small editing business. I explored color and design. Vibrant colors enlivened our dull surroundings. Space for new ideas replaced hoarding. I came to life that year.
With Sally's help, I learned to release material things, discovered my passions, and developed skills. But there was one lesson she taught that transcended them all: love has the power to heal.
— Lee Ann Haney