Chapter 30 Lorna Now
At the start of lorna’s last week at the bodhi tao Bliss Retreat and Spa, Xandra handed her a piece of paper.
On it was a catalog of how she’d spent her time there, listing the required hours and the number Lorna had completed.
She was surprised to see she was ahead of schedule.
It was true that in the last week, she’d been spending longer hours here.
At Micah’s suggestion, she’d added art therapy, where she was encouraged to get in touch with the deepest level of her mind and express it in an art medium of her choice, including dance, music, drawing, or writing.
Lorna stuck to drawing and was guided into uncovering some difficult emotions and releasing them into her so-called art.
Micah was right—it was the perfect companion to her meditation practice.
She was uncovering a lot of old beliefs that didn’t have a place in her world now.
Micah also sent her for more sound baths and float therapy, which had helped reduce not only her negative self-talk but also her fear. Her body seemed to be expelling all of that through her tears.
She’d continued work on her vision board, adding anything and everything that could possibly make her feel happy or fulfilled. She told Micah that if her future turned out to be anywhere near as pretty or colorful as her board, she would be happy.
“I’m holding you to that,” he’d said.
Of course she’d had more sessions with the acupuncturist. She loved the very concept of body meridians and the opening of her chi. She left feeling lighter in being each time. Like she was a person who could be liked and was worth knowing. She had value.
Armed with the accounting of her time, Lorna went to her meeting with Micah and showed him how much she’d progressed. He was wearing silk joggers, a woven hoodie, and torn ribbons in his graying hair. Yet his look did not annoy Lorna in the least, which she considered a mark of great progress.
“That’s right,” Micah said, looking at her paper. “You’re coming to the end of your time with us. That is, the time required by your employer. You are, of course, free to carry on with us.”
“I don’t think so,” Lorna said. “I saw the rates on your brochure.” And yet, the idea of carrying on without Micah and Montreal to guide her was more disturbing than she ever would have dreamed possible. She had come to depend on this place. She even looked forward to coming.
Micah laughed. “Inner peace is not cheap. Nevertheless, I can confidently say we’re down to a few tweaks before we sign off and I send you back to your employer.”
“Tweaks,” she repeated. She’d been coming here long enough to know that when he said things like that, she was not going to like whatever followed. “Like what?”
“Maintenance skills,” he said. “You’ve done a great job of learning to recognize and rid yourself of negative thoughts.
And you are opening yourself up to examining your resentments and letting them go.
You are learning to live in the moment and not the past. So now we want to make sure you have the skills necessary to keep that up and to move forward on your own.
In our last few sessions, we’ll focus on how to maintain your positive outlook when you go back to work. ”
She hadn’t thought about work in weeks. She shifted uncomfortably on her beanbag.
“Let’s begin by talking about your staff.”
“Let’s not,” Lorna said.
Micah ignored her, as he’d learned to do. “I’ve got a list here from your employer,” he said, and reached over to his desk to grab it.
“I’m not ready to talk about them.” She didn’t want to remember how they felt about her, how they made her feel about herself. It would ruin everything she’d worked hard to achieve these last few weeks.
“Suzanne,” he said stubbornly. “Tell me about her.”
She has a punchable face. Lorna grimaced, recalling the way she’d so bitterly written that to Kristen. Suzanne was an attractive woman. Why had she ever thought that? “I don’t know. She’s...” Oh, how she hated this exercise. “She’s a little rough around the edges.”
Micah’s brows rose.
“What?” Lorna asked defensively. “Oh, I get it. That’s the pot calling the kettle black, right?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I can say it. She’s just like me, and that’s not exactly a good thing.”
“Why isn’t it? You’re a top-notch salesperson. You’re in charge. I would think she’d want to emulate you.”
But her staff hated her. She’d earned their hate too. She felt uncomfortable, like her skin didn’t fit right or her head was on crooked. Very uncomfortable. She breathed in, looked for the negative thought. “I don’t think I can do this, Micah. I don’t want to like them.”
He laughed with surprise. “Why not?”
She closed her eyes, reaching for the truth. “Isn’t it obvious? If I like them, they will leave in one way or another.”
Micah set aside the paper that had their names written on it. “Like everyone else in your life.”
She opened her eyes. That thought felt toxic and sour. “Yes, Mr. Freud. Not exactly a breakthrough. If they get to know me, if I get to know them, they won’t stick around. No one ever does.”
“That is demonstrably untrue,” Micah said. “What about Bean and his father?”
“Come on. He’s a kid. And they live across the hall. My staff won’t know what to do with me if I come back like this, all free to be me. I am not currently the Lorna they know. I can’t waltz in and say, ‘Hey, everyone, welcome to my bomb shelter! I’ve opened the doors, so let’s order pizza!’”
Micah shifted onto his elbow. “Why can’t you say that?”
“Because they will leave. Or do something that means I have to leave. What are you not getting? I’m still not a likable person. Maybe I don’t hate myself, but that doesn’t mean others don’t hate me. I’m closed off, I can’t trust them, I second-guess everything.”
He tapped a finger to his lips for a moment. “Question: Have any of your neighbors left?”
“Of course not,” she said irritably. “They don’t have anywhere to go.”
“Sure they do. They may not want to, but any one of them could leave tomorrow to get away from you. And yet, they haven’t. You’ve had pizza with them. They volunteered with you. Are they giving off an I hate Lorna vibe?”
“No,” she said slowly. Pizza in the backyard with them had been one of the better days of her adult life. “But they don’t really know me or understand me.”
“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But if you really believe that, you should help them know you. If your theory is that anyone who really knows you will not like you and will leave, then test it.”
She frowned. “How am I supposed to do that?”
“You could start by telling them the truth. That you intend to buy the house and why.”
Lorna glared at him. “I am obviously not going to tell them that. They would really hate me then. Even Bean might hate me, and I couldn’t bear that. Also, Micah, you are ruining the good vibe I had from my sound bath earlier.”
Micah smiled a little. “I told you you’d love it.
Look, Lorna. This idea that you are unlikable, unlovable, is a narrative you’ve created.
But it’s not true. Maybe you feel that way because you’ve been too afraid to let anyone close to you.
You’ve been so sure history would repeat itself that you’ve locked yourself down.
No admittance. And you’ve told yourself that no one is banging on the door because you are so unlikable.
None of that is true. If you’re ever going to find peace, you need to rid yourself of the fear that whoever knows you will leave you. That’s letting the past rule you.”
She could feel the truth in that, but it felt too dangerous to let go of everything she’d clung to.
“The past does rule me, Micah. The past shows me exactly what I can expect.” She popped up from the beanbag, annoyed with him without really understanding why.
“I’m supposed to have my astrological chart read today. Can you buzz Montreal?”
“You’re kidding yourself,” Micah said calmly. “Just think about what I’m saying.” He stood up and hit the little button on his desk. “What do you have planned for this weekend?”
He asked in a manner that made Lorna think he didn’t really care but was looking for something to fill the awkward silence until Montreal came. Lorna stared at her hand. “Actually, I’m paying a visit to someone who is really grieving. Someone who lost her daughter in a car accident.”
“How tragic,” Micah said sincerely. “Is this Mrs. Tracy from your list?”
This guy with the ribbons in his hair had a mind like a steel trap. “Yes, as a matter of fact.”
“Were you in the car?”
Where was Montreal? “No.” She glanced to the door. “But Kristen was. She escaped with some bruises, is all.”
“I’m curious why this woman is on your list if you weren’t involved.”
Lorna shook her head. Why was it so hard for her to explain it was all her fault? “No one should have been in the car. I could have stopped them, but I didn’t. Where is Montreal, anyway?”
“I know you know that you can’t hold yourself responsible for the choices anyone made during that tragedy. You didn’t physically put anyone in a car, did you? You are not guilty by association.”
“I know ,” she said irritably. But she didn’t know, not really. She thought her guilt by association was terribly damning.
“For what it’s worth, I understand your thinking. Grief is hard work,” he said sympathetically. “It’s true what they say—the only way out is through. If you’re going to visit the girl’s mother, just make sure you know what you need from that visit for your own grief work.”
“My grief work?” Her gaze snapped back to him. “Since when have I been doing grief work?”
“Since the moment you came into the program. You’ve been grieving your past and your family for a very long time.”
Lorna was appalled. She didn’t understand why his proclamation should annoy her so completely, but it did.
She glowered at him. She’d been feeling good about things, about herself, and he was ruining it all.
“I’m here to learn how to be a better person, remember?
You can’t just switch everything up on me at the last minute. ”
“I didn’t mean to switch it up. To me, it’s all part and parcel of the unique Lorna Lott. Whether you realize it or not, you’re doing the work of others who have grieved a loss. The tears, the rage... they are all signs of it.”
Now she was feeling defensive. “I haven’t cried in a week.”
“And that is great progress. Here is Montreal,” he said.
Lorna hadn’t even noticed that the door had opened. She was still glaring at Micah, who returned her gaze with absolute serenity. She was indignant—she’d been sold a bait and switch. “Have a good session,” he said, as if nothing had happened.