Chapter 31 – Hannah
I’m jolted awake when Harley starts barking. Reaching over to the side of the bed where my phone is, I tap the screen. It’s a little after 7 AM, and I feel how I assume a zombie would. There’s loud sniffing and some scratching, which means one of two things. Option one, she needs to go outside. Option two, there’s someone on the other side of the door. Neither of which I’m excited about the prospect of this early in the morning.
With a groan, I swing my legs over the side of the bed, standing up entirely too fast, my butt plopping right back down as my head spins. I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, shaking my head to clear it of its trip to space. Okay, let’s try this again.
I didn’t hear anyone knock; I’m semi convinced there’s no one there. Curiosity wins over, and I look through the peephole. Sitting in the middle of the hallway is a bag and. Lord almighty! Freaking coffee. I swing the door open and grab the bag and coffee before the door slams shut behind me. I do a little shimmy happy dance at the first sip of liquid gold.
I start to open the bag when I notice the piece of paper stapled to the top. I stare at it for longer than necessary, convincing myself I’ve all of a sudden forgotten how to read. Because there’s no way this piece of paper says what my brain is telling me it says. “Thinking about you, Kitten.” It hasn’t even been twenty four hours since I saw him at the lighthouse.
My arms brace on the kitchen island; my head hangs heavy in front of me. I grab my phone and check the time once more. I have an appointment with Megan in about an hour. I can make it until then without losing my sanity. At least, I think I can . I feel like I’m on the precipice of something life-changing. This is the moment I finally let it all go; I can either spread my wings and fly or crash and burn. Guess we’ll find out soon.
I empty the contents of the bag; of course, there’s a blueberry muffin. But what warms my shriveled raisin of a heart is the smaller bag of pumpkin dog treats for my girl. It would be so much easier if I could just hate this guy, but he’s too good of a man for me to feel anything but adoration for.
Handing Harley her treat, I devour the muffin and get ready for therapy. At this point, I desperately need it. My mind is a mess; I’m somewhere in limbo. After my session I have to talk to Nora. Strangely, I feel nothing but peace about it; she’s not a cruel boss. While I know there will be disappointment, I know this is the right move for me.
“Have you been eating?” I don’t even have both feet inside Megan’s office before she lobs that question up and smacks it down like she’s serving in a volleyball match.
“Hello, so very nice to see you as well. It’s beautiful outside. November in Florida is my favorite. It’s not as humid, so I can make it more than two blocks without looking like I lathered myself in bacon grease.” Her left eyebrow arched in question. I drop myself in the egg chair I’ve claimed as my own over the years. Pulling my legs in, I get comfortable because I know everything else is about to be anything but. “Yes, I am eating.”
She hasn’t picked up her pen or her notebo ok yet, and the way she’s cataloging every part of me is unsettling. “There’s something different here. It’s your eyes.”
I snort, “Gee, thanks. I felt like going with light makeup today. Guess that was a bad decision.” One hand starts to pick at the skin on the thumb of my other hand.
It's quiet for a second; I look up a second before Megan squats before me, placing her hands over mine. “No, Hannah, you look beautiful as always. But there’s life in your eyes. I haven’t seen that in a long time.” I drop my head again, trying to accurately piece together the words to describe how I’m feeling. I mean, how do you describe the freedom you feel almost a decade after losing your dad? How do you explain how genuinely happy you feel after going home? How it felt to have friends show up because they were worried about you?
She doesn’t move from her place in front of me, and I couldn’t tell you how long I sat there after the tears started. She holds space for me to process in a safe environment. It’s as refreshing as it is healing. To know there’s no judgment, there’s no “pull yourself together,” or my personal favorite, “I didn’t know you were so weak.”
“I don’t even know where to start, Meg. I’m like one of those rubber band balls. But I’m being pulled in 20 different directions at the same time.” She sits on the floor in front of me, hands still grasping mine.
“Okay, what’s the most prominent emotion?” I shake my head slightly, running my tongue across my upper lip to catch some of the tears that are falling.
“I don’t know. It changes depending on the day. It’s a battle between anger, disappointment, and the most shocking of them all, hope.” The signature therapist hum leaves her as I fi nally look at her, and her eyes are filled with compassion.
“I understand the anger and disappointment you may be feeling, but would it be okay if we unpacked the hope? That’s a positive emotion, one I know you try to keep locked up and thrown in the dungeon.”
I’ve never met anyone who loves fantasy books like Megan. They’re all over her office; I’m pretty sure she was in on that whole vampire and werewolf trend back in the day. “I didn’t know dungeons and dragons were in my cards today, but sure. However, it might be more of a battleship situation. See how many buttons you can hit before I explode.”
Her smile blinds me, “There she is! Hope let’s hear it. What makes you feel hopeful? What are you actually hoping for?” She pulls her knees up, crosses at the ankles, and wraps her arms around them. Smiling at me like we're long-lost BFFs and not in therapy.
“Uhh...” I blow a piece of hair that fell out of my bun off my face, and at the same time, my leg starts bouncing.
“I have hope that I’m making the right career decision, I really enjoyed the entire process of the carnival. Megan, it’s so much more fulfilling than any other job I’ve ever had.” I may have gone to school to be a journalist, and I may be dang good at it, but I always felt something was missing.
I proceed to tell her all about the fallout with Greyson and my trip back home. I’ve been walking around with the weight I was never meant to carry, a weight I didn’t realize was so heavy until it was lifted. I felt like I could take a full breath; I felt like I could be me.
The real me, the me that loved to laugh befo re I was told how loud and annoying it was. The me that loved to dance before I was told how awful I was at it. The me that knew how to have meaningful relationships before I was told I wasn’t good enough for anyone to stick around.
“It was like a game of connect the dots. I don’t know how to have a good relationship with men because I never felt love or acceptance from my dad. I don’t know how to have friendships with most people because I was always told I wasn’t good enough to keep around. But before I went back, I simply slapped the ‘that’s just how I am’ or how it’s always been band-aid on it and kept moving.”
She nods; the look of pride on her face fills me with pride of my own. I finally did it. I finally had a breakthrough that I’d needed for years. I’ve finally woken up from the almost thirty-year-long nap I had been taking, and I feel like I can start to live.
She gets up and walks over to her desk to grab her pen and notebook. Rolling her chair to sit closer to me, she puts her glasses on and points the pen in my direction. “Explain. All of it, what does the real you feel?”
A real, genuine smile touches my face when I answer, “Strong and free.” Tears build up in my eyes, but I don’t let them fall.
“I feel strong, Megan, for the first time in over a decade.” I pause letting that revelation sink in, “I feel like I have this tenacious fighter locked inside me. One that wants to hop on the back of a hypothetical bull and fight like never before to stay on those eight seconds. But more than that, I feel like I could. And that in and of itself is freeing.”
“I feel like I can simply exist. Without e xpectations, without having to be something or accomplish anything. I feel like there’s actually something to look forward to. There’s hope that I’ll finally realize I am worthy enough for the right people.”
––––––––
“You are worthy enough. You always have been. The retraining of your brain is the hard part..” She adds.
My hand freezes, head snapping toward my therapist, who just dropped a bomb on my head and then gave me no steps to disarm it. “Okay, how do I do that?”
She throws her head back and laughs like this isn’t some internal meltdown I’m having. “Megan, how dare you! I’m having a quarter-life crisis here.” She laughs harder, and I smile.
“Hannah, you just keep moving. You focus on your affirmations, you pray, and you do things that make you feel happy. You surround yourself with people who love you for you. Eventually, your brain will catch up..”
“I really don’t like how much sense you make sometimes.” The knot in my chest loosens a little bit, but then a certain six-foot-something hockey player skates through my mind. “I don’t know what to do with Greyson. He apologized, and I believe him. But dang it, Megan, I’m terrified of letting him anywhere near my heart. I don’t want to put myself out there just to find out I’m really not enough.”
She puts her notebook down and crosses her legs, “What do you want to do? If you could have any outcome, what would it be?” Internally, I crack up; the possibilities are endless. That man is a freaking snack and a half.
“I’d kiss the hell out of him, then love him forever.” Wait, love?! Before I can run with that thought, my mind latches on to negativity like a leech and takes off like a rocket on its way to the moon. Forgetting all the good things that happened along the way.
Like the times Greyson helped me talk through my feelings. Or when he made sure I was okay after we ran into Kyle. The way he shared his special place with me, then when he sought me out to help him through his panic attacks. All those things I’d cherished at the moment were brought to a crashing halt as the only negative words he’d ever said to me settled in.
I know he’s not a bad man, but his actions 99% of the time I’ve known him have proven that he didn’t actually feel that way. But in the same way my mom slammed doors in solicitors faces when I was little, my brain slammed the door of trust in his face and threw the key away. Then deadbolted it and put some iron bars in front of it, just in case.
“Okay, let’s say it's the worst-case scenario. What does that look like for you?”
“That he murdered someone and has the body parts stored in freezers of all his friends without their knowledge? It looks pretty scary, Megan.”
She stares at me, mouth hanging open, then shakes her head. “Okay, you’re right. Your brain is over-imaginative. I’m sure it’s nothing like that. If that was the case? Would that be a deal breaker for you?”
What in the world? “Yes, Megan, if he were a murderer, that would be a deal breaker. Are you for real?”
“I think it’s safe to say he isn’t, so let’s try to take the imagination down a level or two. You need time to sort through your thoughts. Maybe he does, too. Maybe you could reach out to him and let him know that when he’s ready to tell you what happened, you’re ready to listen. But until then, you’d appreciate the space.”
Yeah, that sounds like a great idea. However, my fear of rejection isn’t going to let that happen. But I nod anyway to appease her, then immediately chastise myself for giving in to my people-pleasing tendencies. With that, we ran out of time for the day. Therapy has always left me feeling twenty pounds lighter, but also like I previously consumed copious amounts of alcohol and had one heck of a hangover.
Today, I don’t have much of a choice in my post-therapy activities because I have a meeting to attend. As I pull out of the parking lot, my phone rings. Looking at the caller ID, I see it’s Abby.
“Sup?”
A snort sounds from over the phone. “What are you, twelve? Sup? Really?” Her laughter sets off my own as I stop at a red light.
“Sorry, please forgive me. Hello Ms. Knight, how may I assist you on this glorious morning?”
“You can come hang out with me, some of the guys, and a handful of neon lights tonight.” There’s a hopeful current to her words. But wait, is there a country bar here? Not that I would know because I spent the last eight years shunning literally everything that reminded me of home.
“Sure, could be a good release after the conversation I’m about to have with Nora.”
Her gasp sounds like a shout in the quiet car. “Oh shoot! I’m so sorry I forgot that it was today. I should have been home when you left this morning.”
“Abs, it’s fine. I just left Megan’s office; I feel good. I’m not worried about the conversation as much as I’m worried about the weight of disappointment. I haven’t had someone disappointed in me in a long time. You know how hard I try to avoid that very thing.”
I’m met with a sigh and a stint of silence, one that would normally make my skin itch, but I find it oddly comforting today. My mind isn’t running its normal marathon; I feel like I have a direction to head in. One that feels good and right for me, not for anyone else.
“You can’t please everyone, Han. I’m so proud of you for putting yourself first for once.” Her voice full of warmth fills me in a way only words from her can. “From the outside looking in, it’s like you’ve been this priceless statue that’s been hidden under a tarp collecting dust for years. Now it’s been taken out, dusted off, and is being polished so it can really shine. You got this; don’t let your fear of disappointing someone keep you stuck in something that you’ve outgrown.”
My chin quivers as I pull into the Tampa Today parking garage. Sniffling to keep the snot trying to escape my nose, I put the car in park. “Thank you. You’ve been such a big part of this, giving me tough love when I need it. Letting me figure things out on my own timeline, yet loving me through it. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to watch someone you care about self-destruct, but than k you for sticking around. You truly are the sister I never had.”
“Dang it, Hannah, I’m at work. Stop it!” We both hate crying, especially when there are witnesses to said event.
“Gotta go, I can’t put this off anymore. Send me the details for tonight. Love ya, sister.”
“Love you too! Get'em, Cowgirl!” She calls before she throws in a “Yeehaw.” My head hits the headrest as I look up at the ceiling of my car. If you had asked me two weeks ago if I would be walking into a job where I know there’s a promotion waiting for me just to put in my two weeks, I’d laugh in your face. If you had asked me two weeks ago if I’d agree to go line dancing and not recoil when my best friend called me “cowgirl,” I’d ask you what you were smoking.
At this moment, I’m content. I’m relaxed. I’m going into that office, and I’ll be grateful yet firm in my decision. Then I’ll go dancing with my friends, and tomorrow I’ll call Madeline.
A girl with plans that don’t fully revolve around work. Who am I?