Chapter 30 – Ainsleigh #2
He stood, and I thanked him for his time.
He told me he had a few more interviews that day, but I’d hear from them soon with a decision.
I’d been so conflicted while I was in Virginia and wanted one of the companies I’d interviewed with to give me a yes so badly, but now I could see my future clearly.
I drove to my therapy appointment, trying to keep my mind on anything other than having to open my soul to the therapist. I wanted to give this an honest chance, and I knew therapy could help me move past the trauma of losing our daughter; I just had a hard time expressing my emotions on a good day let alone to a stranger.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot. Before I could talk myself out of going inside, I parked and immediately got out of the vehicle.
You can do this, Ainsleigh.
I repeated that mantra to myself the entire walk to the building which seemed to take forever.
My legs felt heavy with each step that brought me closer to my destination.
I wouldn’t say my last therapist was bad.
He was nice and genuine. I just wasn’t ready to open up to anyone.
The pain then was still too fresh and raw, and the mere thought of speaking my trauma aloud sent me into a panic.
I checked in with the receptionist and took in the waiting room.
Portraits of the ocean covered the walls, giving a serene feeling, instantly calming my nerves.
I stared at one, a woman with a white dress standing at the shore, the waves crashing upon her feet, as she spread her arms and looked toward the sky.
I wasn’t sure what drew me to this portrait.
I couldn’t see the woman’s face to gauge her expression, but it brought feelings of peace and freedom, like she was giving her pain to the waves to wash them away.
Hearing my name called brought me out of my trance, and I turned toward a middle-aged woman who smiled at me as I walked over to her.
She reached out her hand, and on auto pilot I placed my hand in hers.
Her hand was soft and warm as I shook it lightly, pulling away once the appropriate amount of time passed.
“Welcome, Miss Courtright. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Sit anywhere you feel comfortable,” she said as we walked inside. She shut the door behind us.
The walls were painted light blue, more ocean scenery hung on the walls, a wooden desk sat on the back wall in front of floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and each shelf full to the brim with books.
Two chairs sat facing the desk, a table in between them.
A couch sat in the middle of the room, and a coffee table separated the couch and the two chairs that sat across from it.
I walked over to the couch and sat, taking my purse off my shoulder and placing it beside me. She sat across from me after she grabbed a notebook from her desk. I shifted nervously, not sure if I should wait for her to begin or just start speaking.
“What’s something good in your life that’s happened recently?” she asked, breaking the ice.
I was shocked she didn’t want to get straight into the reason that brought me here, but was thankful, nonetheless.
“I had an interview this morning which I’m sure I nailed. But, I’m not taking the position,” I admitted.
“Why’s that?” she asked, jotting something in the notebook.
My mind drifted to what she could possibly be writing down, unable to focus on my response.
I hated when my other therapist just jotted away, barely making eye contact, but she didn’t do that.
Her pen made the notes while her eyes never left mine, making my unease lessen.
“The position is amazing. The man interviewing me was another story,” I began as I spilled how I felt once the interview concluded. I wasn’t sure what it was about her, but the words flowed freely from my lips until I was finished recounting the entire interview.
“I can see why that’d make you hesitant to accept the position. Do you have any other job prospects?”
I went on to tell her about the opening at our family ranch, explaining the position I’d hold, how much I loved the family’s business, and the ways I could make it better. The more I spoke, the more I could hear how passionate I was about the ranch.
Once I was finished, she made more notes before she continued.
“You seem very knowledgeable about your family business. Your eyes lit up just speaking about the strategies you could implement to gain more bookings and make the guest experience even better than it already sounds. Why are you hesitant to work for your family?”
I thought about how to respond for a beat.
“I was hesitant because I didn’t just want my identity tied to my family. I wanted to be my own person. Forge my own path, not just do what’s expected of me,” I admitted, and saying it out loud felt freeing, like I finally wasn’t weighed down by my dilemma.
“I think you’re looking at it all wrong.
You are a Courtright. You have a family business that you love.
I could tell by how highly you speak of everything regarding the ranch.
Instead of looking at it like it would be tying you down, why don’t you look at it like you doing what you’re meant to do.
There’s passion in your voice when you speak about the position and the ways you can make it better with the knowledge you learned from your degree; let that guide you instead of looking at it like a hindrance. ”
When she put it like that, she solidified my feelings that the ranch was where I was meant to be. I’d always thought working on the ranch would hold me back, but not anymore. The ranch was where I was meant to thrive and grow.
“I’d never looked at it like that before.”
“I read over your intake questionnaire. I’m sorry for the loss of your child. But instead of going directly into that, I want you to tell me the struggles you’ve had since you’ve returned home.”
I took a deep breath and grabbed a few tissues from the table in front of me and sat back, ready to tackle the one of many hard questions I was sure she’d ask for the remainder of our session.
“Everyone welcomed me back with open arms, but until recently I’d only thought of my pain.
Of my hurt. I’ve been selfish, when I should’ve been more sympathetic toward the pain I caused everyone, especially Gentry.
I’m just unsure of how to fix the brokenness I’ve caused.
I hate that every night when I go to my bedroom to go to sleep, I feel like I can’t breathe being in the space where I lost her. ”
“Is there another room you can move to that would make you more comfortable being home? Maybe you could move out if that’s an option for you?”
“My mom offered, but I didn’t want to be a burden. There’s also the house that’s on our property that my grandparents left me in their will. It’s sat vacant the last four years.”
“Are either of those options something you’d consider that would make you feel more comfortable?”
I loved how she asked a question without sounding pushy for an answer.
I weighed both options in my head. Moving rooms would be the easiest option, but I loved the idea of having my own space again.
After four years of living on my own, having my own place again sounded the most ideal.
It also scared me at the same time, because that house was where we were supposed to bring Arabella home to, and I didn’t know if her nursery was still set up or not.
Seeing that may send me into even more of a downward spiral.
“Moving into my grandparents’ house would be the smartest option. I’d have the most freedom, but I’m scared of seeing her nursery. I don’t even know if they changed it. Even thinking about walking into that room causes me to panic,” I admitted.
“Why don’t you talk it over with your parents? See if they made any changes that way you can prepare yourself before you see the house again?”
She made the most sense. That would help ease my anxiety a ton.
“Now, who’s Gentry?” she asked.
Tears welled in my eyes at the mention of him. I wasn’t sure why I chose that moment to cry, but the first tear fell and many others followed. I couldn’t stop them if I tried.
“Why does speaking of Gentry make you so emotional?”
I wanted to tell her to give me another question. I didn’t want to admit my failures and wrongdoings when it came to my reasoning for leaving.
“I hurt him when I left. I broke his heart because I thought I was releasing him from having to deal with the broken parts of me. I couldn’t stay here and face everything I’d lost. So I ran.
The second I received that late acceptance to college, I left everything I knew behind because running was easier than facing my pain,” I admitted through my sobs.
“I can tell that even four years away you’ve never forgiven yourself for the turmoil you caused him. Have you spoken with Gentry since your return about your feelings?”
“I have. We talked about most of it, and I’ve apologized profusely.
We’ve even agreed to start over again. I’m just not sure I deserve him.
I broke him, and he pieced himself back together again.
He was able to move past our grief while I’m still stuck back in that bedroom the day we lost the most precious part of both of us. ”
She gave me a moment to collect myself, handing me more tissues.
“Can I tell you what I see when I look at you?”
I could only nod; my throat felt like a frog was stuck in it as I tried to push down my emotions and gather myself.