Page 125 of The Game Plan
My throat tightens.
“And now,” she continues, smiling at the camera, “you’re showing up to your calls with more confidence. In a month, the problems haven’t been fixed, but they’re disappearing. You’re starting to heal, and your body language shows that.”
I blink, not wanting to cry, but the feeling of being seen hits me hard. When I look at myself, I notice the difference in the way my shoulders are straighter, my eyes are brighter, and my smile is bigger. But hearing someone else point out these changes is an approval I didn’t know I needed.
“When we started our sessions, you asked me about my biggest fear. I said I was afraid of turning into her, but I don’t feel that way anymore.”
She nods before dropping her voice. “What’s changed?”
I draw in a long breath. “I realized I’m not her. I never have been. She might have been absent, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be absent. My father abandoned me before he knew me, but I’ve met my daughter. I’d rather die than leave her. My parents' mistakes aren’t a reflection of me, but their struggle.”
“That’s quite the perspective.”
My voice shakes, but I keep going. “Through the hard times, the times I didn’t think I could handle anymore, I stayed. I fought to see the light, but they gave up. They chose torunscared, and I chose tofightscared.”
“I love how you said that. You chose to fight scared.”
“I’ve been doing the homework you asked me to do.”
“And how’s that going?”
“Good,” I answer. “I’ve been using the journal to write down the dark thoughts. The ones I’m terrified to voice. It’s the fear and insecurities speaking to me, and when I read over my words the next morning, they don’t have as much power.”
Dr. Nia nods and offers me a small grin. “You’ve started releasing the toxicity and making room for the positive.”
I nod, voice cracking. “I still panic and the anxiety is still there, but it doesn’t feel as crippling. My anxiety isn’t controlling me anymore.”
I stare at a framed picture of Lennon. She’s lying on her blanket with a wide, gummy smile. She’s so beautiful and happy.
“When I look at Lennon, I don’t see the fear and what-ifs. I see purpose.”
Dr. Nia smiles at me as we sit in silence.
“I’m proud of you,” she finally says.
My head whips at the camera. Hearing someone tell me they’re proud of me isn’t something I’m used to.
Growing up, Aunt Bethany always made sure I knew she loved me, but our relationship was different. Ultimately, she was my aunt. She did her best, but by the time I moved in with her, the damage had already been done. I was an angsty teenager with mommy-and-daddy issues.
Grant’s done a great job reminding me he’s proud of me, but he has to tell me—he’s my husband. Still, hearing it from someone else feels different, like an unbiased compliment.
“I’m proud of how you’ve leaned into the hard. You’ve made room to grieve your childhood, but no longer live in the past. You fight even when you’re terrified. That’s the real bravery, Savannah.”
Tears well, hot and fast.
“I thought…I thought I had to be perfect.”
“You don’t,” she says firmly. “No one in this life is perfect, and you shouldn’t expect yourself to be held to a higher standard. All you can do is show up, be present, and be your best self. Perfect is an illusion. It’s unattainable. We, as humans, are designed to make mistakes, but it’s how we learn from them that matters.”
I nod, wiping a tear from my cheek. “There are nights Grant finds me in the nursery, staring at Lennon. He tells me he’s proud of me, that I look stronger—but I still feel like I’m being held together with duct tape.”
“Duct tape is pretty strong,” she says with a soft chuckle. “Healing isn’t pretty, and it’s not going to happen overnight.”
Readjusting myself, I take a deep breath. “Grant is always thanking me for giving him a family, but it’s he who gave usthe greatest gift. He brought us safety and unconditional love. I think he’s our greatest gift.”
She tilts her head. “Maybe you gave each other the greatest gift.”
I smile at that.
