Chapter Seven
Seven
“You canceled your last appointment,” Dr. Sariah said in a mild tone. “Would you like to share why?”
I bit my lip. “I thought I was better and didn’t need you.”
A slight smile curved her lips. “Understood. It’s been done before, but I’m glad to see you back. Unfortunately, if it happens again, I won’t be able to get you back in. I have a waiting list.”
I winced. “I’m really sorry. I’ll be more careful.”
She inclined her head, accepting my apology. “Would you like to tell me what’s been happening?”
Her question made me snort. “Besides my life getting even worse? Let’s just say I have a story you’re never going to believe.”
Gentle curiosity lit her gaze. “I’m listening.”
And she was. For the second time, I poured my heart out, telling her about what had been happening, from my lost family up to my podcast breakdown. When I was done, I slumped over. “I bet we’re out of time now. That was a long story.”
“We have time. Aurora, how do you feel about having family you didn’t know of?”
I thought hard and tried to be honest. “Mixed-up. I’m so happy to know I’m not alone, but I’m mad they dissed my mom. If I hadn’t done that test, I would’ve never known. Then I’m angry at Mom and Dad for keeping such an important secret.”
“Good. And what about the podcast? How did you feel about showing your feelings in a public setting?”
My body shook at the memory. “Horrible. Vulnerable. Ashamed and humiliated. Pissed off at Marley for pushing my buttons and pissed off at myself for my weakness. I lost a big sponsor and my next scheduled guest canceled. My producer can’t even look at me because she’s afraid I’m going to freak out. The premiere did well on Spotify, but it was more to watch me have a breakdown than for my content. I’m falling apart and I need help.”
Dr. Sariah kept her gaze on mine, not afraid to look at me like everyone else was. “Grief is a multilayered, thorny thing, Aurora. It’s not something we fix overnight, and it’s sneaky. Sometimes, we feel strong enough and think it’s in the past, then a simple occurrence throws us back into the pain. What you’re going through is normal. In fact, you’ve been very forthcoming with your feelings. You’re not trying to pretend you’re okay.”
I winced. “Well, I did last week.”
“Yet you came back here. I’d like to talk about what happened when you saw Jason. How do you feel things are with him since he took a step back?”
“There’s a lot of questions here about how I feel,” I tried to joke. “I came here looking for action items.”
Her face reflected gentle patience. “Most patients are. But emotions take action hostage sometimes, and it’s important we do some digging to unearth them. Make sense?”
I wrinkled my nose. Wallowing in feelings didn’t seem very productive. I’d always allowed my clients to tell me how they felt, and then I built them a step-by-step action plan to follow. I subscribed to the theory that it didn’t matter how you felt as long as you were taking the steps, but I guess Dr. Sariah had a different theory.
Maybe I should just wrap this up and find a new doctor. Someone who’d fix my problems rather than have me talk about them. But I liked her and really wanted this to work. I also didn’t have time to find another one covered by my insurance, go through another consult, and start over again. I took a deep breath. “It didn’t go the way I hoped,” I admitted.
“What did you hope for?”
My face turned red at my weakness. “I wanted him to hold me and say he understood. Which he did, for a little bit, but then he gave this motivational speech and I got upset.”
“Did you not feel like he was accepting your pain?”
I jerked back at the question. Suddenly defensive, I tried to backtrack. “Maybe. But Jason knows that wouldn’t be helpful. Our relationship works so well because we push each other to be better. He wants me to write my book and do my podcast and stop having silly breakdowns at inappropriate times.” I gave a half laugh. “I’d probably say the same if he was in my position. We’re both used to tough love, I guess. We believe wallowing in useless emotion isn’t helpful.”
Dr. Sariah tapped her pen. “You said ‘we.’ Do you believe that, too? That emotions are a block to progress?”
I squirmed a bit in my chair. Did I? No, I never tried to reject my clients’ feelings if they were sad or depressed or feeling hopeless. I worked with them to believe in themselves again and transform their bodies and minds. Jason did the same work in a fitness format.
“I think there’s a balance that needs to be maintained,” I said slowly. “Emotion is energy. Flow and acceptance are important, but there’s a point where you can’t let emotion rule. You need to be strong enough to work past it so it doesn’t ruin your life. You need to push it aside and take action to change your life.”
A memory hit.
The group of girls who used to bully me in high school. They’d follow me down the halls, slam me against the lockers, insult my body and my hair and my face. I’d fallen into a terrible position by attracting the interest of a boy in school whom the leader liked. She declared war by making me feel small on a daily basis, slowly torturing me until I’d withdrawn into myself. Mom and Dad tried to find out why I’d changed, but I kept my secret tight. I kept my grades up and I endured.
Until the new girl came in and took my place.
She was overweight and socially awkward and I was relieved to finally have attention shifted off me. I stuffed down the guilt when I caught her suffering through the same stuff I had, and kept my head ducked down and hurried past.
Until that day.
Walking back from school. Hearing a loud cry. Peeking into the deserted side street where we’d cut through the fence to get home and finding the girl on the ground, crying. God, I wanted to run away. Wanted to keep myself safe. But the voice inside who said to stop being steeped in fear and shame began to rise, filling my head.
This time, I raced toward them, not away.
With a banshee cry that would have made Mel Gibson from Braveheart proud, I launched myself at the three bullies, kicking and punching and pushing with all my backed-up emotion. They fought back for a bit, but they’d always relied on mental torture, with their long nails and pretty styled hair and designer clothes they were so proud of. They weren’t street kids and had no idea how to handle me.
They ran away, calling me batshit crazy.
I helped the girl up, looking at her tearstained cheeks and snotty nose and the gratitude in her eyes, which made me feel like Captain Marvel after saving the planet.
It was that exact moment I was pushed into my calling. Helping others through action. Talking nicely to those girls wouldn’t work, and neither did running away or ignoring them. Crying never helped. Praying hadn’t, either.
But kicking their asses did. And I intended, from that day on, to keep walking the action path rather than allow myself to be a victim to my emotions ever again.
Odd: I’d used that same motivation after Dad died to build a career out of rising from misery and creating a life I could love again. The inner voice told me it was time to take all that emotion and surge forward with a plan.
“Aurora? What are you thinking about?”
I shook off the memory, feeling chilled. How odd that I’d remembered that. I’d shoved that time of my life aside, not liking to think about those high school years of losing myself over other people’s bad behavior. “Nothing.”
“Hmm. I don’t think it was nothing. Maybe one day you’ll share with me.”
I gave her a guilty look, but she didn’t press me. “What does this have to do with moving forward? I need to know what to do. Do you think I should do a Zoom meeting with all of them? Should I try to keep doing the podcast and ignore the critics? Work on the book and see if my editor will publish it earlier so I can prove I’m better?”
Dr. Sariah tilted her head. “Sit with every one of those questions for a moment, and then speak from your gut. Do you want to do any of that?”
I tried not to get annoyed at her psych games and did what I was told.
The voice, which had been pretty quiet since I’d beat up those girls and lost my dad, suddenly rose and roared.
No.
Startled, I looked around like there was someone else in the room who’d screamed in my ear. “Um, no.”
She nodded. “Now ask me another question.”
It was hard not to roll my eyes. “Should I have dinner with Jason this week and get back together? Forget my icks and just move on?”
Dr. Sariah kept silent.
I let out an impatient breath. “Fine. I’ll ask my inner self.”
The voice grumbled and shook with such powerful intensity, I jumped.
No.
This was getting majorly weird. “Well, guess that was also a no.”
“I think there’s one last question you want to ask yourself, Aurora.”
I blinked. “What? I’d like to ask when I’m going to get back to normal, and move on from this inactive nonsense I’m struggling with, or when my career is going to get back on track, but I’m feeling like that’s not the question you want me to ask.”
Another small smile. Dr. Sariah almost seemed amused, like she was having fun with this ridiculous dialogue.
“Do you want to go to Sicily?” she asked.
I chuckled at that one. Sure, leave everything in my life behind me in tatters to chase a family I didn’t know, in a place I’d never been, halfway across the world, with no plans in place. Sounded like a living nightmare and the easiest answer I’d ever utter.
I played along. “Do I want to go to Sicily?”
I snorted when there was silence. But then Dr. Sariah gave me the look and I tried not to huff. Speaking to my inner self for the last time, I repeated my question. Do I want to go to Sicily?
The voice bellowed from every dark corner in my body, rattling my brain and searing my insides with a pulsing intensity. I didn’t stand as much as jump up like I was starring in a horror movie and the chain saw killer had found me in the closet and reached over to grab me.
Yes.
Dr. Sariah didn’t move or even look concerned. There was a knowing gleam in her eyes as she took in my reaction, and then she scribbled something on her pad as I stared back with my jaw unhinged.
“Yes,” I squeaked out, trembling.
“Yes.” She ripped off a piece of paper. “I want you to schedule a Zoom appointment with me every week—I’ll make sure I make room, even with the time difference.”
I blinked. She smiled.
“Our time’s up. Have a good trip.”
I walked out of her office in a trance.
That week, I packed my bags and flew to Sicily.