Page 52 of Unconventionally, Elle
"You took one hell of a risk, Finn," I said as we grabbed our drinks from the pickup counter.
He turned, gently grabbed my elbow, and held me in place. "Elle, you're not risking peanuts either." Then he let me go.
33
Now
I couldn't stop crying. My tissue was crumpled in my hand, and my laptop screen was blurred from my tears. Tina and I started my session five minutes ago, and I started crying less than sixty seconds into the video chat. I continued telling her about the tense Thanksgiving dinner with Barrett's parents and how they'd attacked my and Barrett's life choices and desires--well, Mr. Henry was the real aggressor.
"It wasn't even the fact that his dad seems to think so little of me--it's the fact he thinks I'm after their precious family money!" My voice was shaking with fury through my tears. "I don't want their fucking money. I can make my own. And the way Mr. Henry talked down to Barrett--oh my God, I thought Barrett was going to explode." The tears were streaming down my face, hot and constant. My head throbbed, and the pain radiated around my eyes and temples.
"We both know you are more than capable of taking care of yourself and making your own money. You've proven that to yourself
beforeandnow." Tina was calm and firm with her words. I knewit deep down, but hearing this validation from her, this reminder that I could provide for myself, felt reassuring.
I know I'm an independent and strong woman, I thought to myself.
"You're right, and I know that too. I forget more often than not, but I know I'm capable. It's just--they made me feel so small. So wrong. And Barrett feels the same way. It's why he and his dad don't really get along. His dad just belittles his dreams and calls him foolish." I took a deep breath; I could feel my mind being torn in so many tangents and directions. Me, Barrett, success, his family, my book, my grandparents. It was as if my brain was scanning through traumas, decisions, and relationships and hadn't chosen a station yet. I continued, staring at Tina on my laptop. "Mainly, his dad made me question my worth, and I've never felt so inadequate."
"What do you think your worth is?" Tina asked thoughtfully.
I considered her and my thoughts. At first, my negative thoughts broke through.You're nothing. You know you're faking this. You don't really belong here. You're not a real writer. You don't have nearly as much money as Barrett does. You can't support yourself like him.
But then I flipped it around. I shifted my mindset and let my real voice speak the truth. "I have worth. I'm not a gold-digger faking achievement or success. I belong here. I am a real writer with worth because I create. I'm vulnerable yet brave. I had financial success, and I will have it again. I am worthy. I know I am enough. I am simply enough." It felt like a chant, affirmations repeating in my mind as my words echoed in my living room.
"You are certainly enough. And you are more than worthy of the life you are living. I'm so proud of you, Elle." Tina was beaming on the screen. "I know the situation you came fromin NOLA, but now, in Boston, do you feel happier? Have you thought about what your success might be?"
I let my heart answer her questions again. "Yes." Nights with Barrett came to the forefront of my memories. Yoga with Emma and Pilates with Finn. Running on Comm Ave and writing in coffee shops and the library. "Yes, I'm happier, and I know that this was the right decision."
Tina nodded as I continued to stare dreamily over my
laptop, thinking.
"I was almost to that dark place again." My voice hitched. "When that email came, when I quit, when everything felt ungrounded. I didn't want to be there; I didn't want to be here."
"Here?" she prodded.
"Alive." I turned my gaze to hers on the screen. "The little scandal with Chris and Mr. Landry was the straw that broke the camel's back, but the camel was already broken."
Tina nodded in understanding.
"If I hadn't left when I did, even though it felt like it was out of nowhere and I was devastated, I don't know how much longer I could have stayed strong. I was exhausted. Even now, I'm tired of being resilient. But there in NOLA, I was alone." I hugged my decorative pillow close to my chest and rested my chin on top. The pressure of the pillow against my body was calming and grounding.
Tina opened her mouth to speak, but I continued my train of thought, cutting her off. "I know I have Rach and Sarah. Again, my brain knows that, but I felt so isolated. The grief of Grandma never really went away, and Jude--I needed to leave. I'm happy here. I'm free. I think for the first time in a long time, I'm alive and living instead of simply existing."
"I tend to agree with you. You seem better mentally since you left New Orleans. Of course, we are human. We are never going to be perfect or feel one hundred percent. We have anxiety,we have doubts, and we have hard times. The ebbs and flows of life will always exist." She paused and drank a small gulp of water. "This life, while better, isn't going to be easy. And I know you are aware, but I also want to remind you that you are a resilient woman who will handle any obstacle head-on with fortitude and perseverance. You don't quit. You don't give up. Your worth is not dictated by your productivity or what someone's father thinks of you." She raised an eyebrow to make her point.
I stared at her with a shy grin and more tears gliding down my cheeks. My mind was trying to comprehend all of Tina's validation and truths.
"And you know what?" I added. "It's been a while, but in addition to you, of course, I have so much support. Sarah, Rach, Finn and Jackson, Barrett, and Emma--I have real friends. Real support. I don't need his parents to understand. Barrett already does." I smiled to myself as I talked my thoughts into existence.
"We all have different callings in life, Elle." Tina smiled, her eyes empathetic and understanding. "And you're lucky enough to know what yours isn't. You never belonged behind a corporate desk; you belong behind a writing one."
Later that night, I was typing away on my couch and listening to a rom-com podcast when I got a text message from Rach asking if I was free to FaceTime. Since it was after eight p.m. her time, I knew something was up and immediately called. She answered on the first ring.
"Elle!"
"Rach, is everything okay? It's late, and we don't talk this late unless one of us is having a midlife crisis and quitting their job, so I hope that's not the case and obviously that no one isdead. Actually, I'm sure you would have led with that, right? Because that's kind of morbid and--"
