Page 41 of Unconventionally, Elle
"I love you too," I whispered back.
My Jude. All mine.
And I was his.
28
Now
I'd been writing all morning, but I'd reached a stalemate. Nothing creative was coming out of my brain. I knew my grandparents' story, I knew I could make it into a fantastic romance novel, but when I got to the part where Grandma Di abandoned her writing dreams, I became stuck. And I hadn't figured out how to get rid of the writer's block, so I leaned back into my couch and typed out a message to Sarah.
Me: Hey, girl, you busy?
Sarah:Elle! Just got done with car line. What's up?
Me:I'm stuck with the book. I thought I had it all together and planned out, but it's not flowing. Something isn't working.
Sarah:What feels wrong about it?
Me:I'm not sure. I can't put my finger on it, but it doesn't feel interesting to write, so I can't imagine it's interesting to read. Every time I check my word count, it's hardly moving. I know I have more to write, it's just not showing up on the pages.
Sarah:Still writing the romance book? The one about your grandparents' love story?
Me:Yeah, I thought I had enough inspiration from it, but I got to the point where Grandma Di walks away from her dreams to become a wife and mother, and yeah, I'm stuck.
Sarah:Gotcha, well, I would keep trying. It's going to be hard.
But if you don't feel the flow and the inspiration by the end of the month, let's figure something else out. It won't be too late.
Me:Seriously? That's insane. That's way late.
Sarah:No, it's not. I think if you have the right idea to run with, then you'll surprise yourself with what you can accomplish.
Me:All right, well, I'll keep you posted. I'm gonna try a little more, but if I can't make progress within a week, I'm gonna scratch this idea. I think waiting till the end of the month would send my panic into overload.
Sarah:That's fair. Good luck, Elle. You've got this, just keep writing. Writing SOMETHING is better than having nothing at all. It's just a first draft, perfection isn't the goal, completion is!
Me:True. OK, I'm going back in . . .
Later in my therapy session, my Wi-Fi cut out as if it had a personal vendetta against me. Tina's screen was buffering, but her voice was clear despite the connectivity issues. "So, Elle, tell me, how have you been since our last session? Twice a month seems to be working, yeah?"
After texting with Sarah earlier, I'd felt my anxiety flutter intermittently at the thought of starting over. It was meant to be that I had a therapy session scheduled for that afternoon. I settled cross-legged onto my oversized white sofa and held onto an oversized pillow for support. My chest rose as I inhaled deeply and then fell with a slow release.
"Oh, I think so. Twice a month is great. Thanks so much for getting me in with you virtually." Truly, Tina was the reason my transition was working so well. She helped my mindset stay positive, even when overwhelming and passive thoughts crept in. I pulled my mouth in, trying to contain my smile, but the dimples in my cheeks gave me away. "I've met someone." My heart fluttered at the thought of Barrett. I closed my eyes and saw his face, clear and smiling. "I've met someone, and I can't believe I feel like this."
"Elle, that's amazing! Where is your mind going right now? What are you feeling? I can sense your brightness all the way through the screen."
I took another deep breath and said the first word that came to my mind: "Safe." I wrapped my arms around the pillow and squeezed. "I feel safe and giddy and I can't stop smiling." Admitting Barrett felt safe meant that now I could get hurt, that this was real.
"It's been hard for you to feel safe with people, hasn't it?" Tina's voice was warm and encouraging.
My mind lingered on the wordsafeas I answered slowly, "Yesss, but I'm trying to think why." I furrowed my brow and scratched my head slowly. "My grandparents were safe for me, and I never felt unsafe with them. My childhood wasn't terrible." I paused. My childhood was something I never really thought about. "I'm not the only child who's ever been left by their parents. I had my grandparents, so it worked out." I felt my cheeks start to burn, and anger flushed momentarily through my chest, catching me by surprise. Why were my eyes stinging?
"It's all right, Elle. I can see we are digging up powerful emotions, and that's okay."
"What's wrong with me?" I groaned with frustration. "This hasn't bothered me in years. I never think about my parents and that whole situation. Why does this feel like so much all at once?" I looked at Tina, pleading for an answer. This was unacceptable. Why was I getting angry over something that happened years ago, that I'd put behind me and forgotten about?
She replied calmly, "Sometimes we put things away but never really work through the pain they caused us as children. Events in our childhood shape our values, our thoughts, our ideas as we grow up, even if it's subconscious."
