Page 28 of Reel Love

I’d like that. But, ground rules first: No sharing the specifics of where we live, what we do for a living, our names, our dates of birth, our appearance or cultural identification. Here, we’re just Wordivore and SaturdayIslandGirl. Deal?

His cursor moves immediately.Deal. I’m great with anonymity.

I smile thinking of how Stevens said he was the chest. This morning feels like light-years ago. So much has happened since that boat ride.

I stare at my keypad, and then I type,Have you ever felt like you’re living your life for everyone else around you? Like you are meant for one thing, or maybe a whole bunch of things, but you have to do what’s expected of you instead? And if you don’t there’s a world of people who will feel let down by you?I stare at what I just typed, take a deep breath, and hit send.

A rush of relief flows through me immediately. I don’t even know what Wordivore will say, but getting that out of my head feels like dropping a weighted pack. I’m taken aback by the lightness I experience just knowing someone else now knows all the thoughts rattling around in my head.

I definitely know what that’s like. I’d say more, but it wouldgive specifics away. Suffice it to say, I’m disappointing my mother deeply by not living up to certain dreams she has for me. I have a job I am qualified for, but it’s something I would never have chosen for myself, exactly. It pays the bills, but it goes against the bigger reason I even started pursuing the field I’m in. So, yeah. I get it.

If I thought I felt relief when I hit send, that’s nothing compared to what I feel reading Wordivore’s response to me. I feel seen.

Today, I had a choice to make. If you want to call it a choice. On one hand, I could do the expected thing, the thing everyone wants me to do. On the other, I could choose to veer a little and do this other thing that is really what I think I want to try. Option two feels right to me. I can’t explain it any other way. I had a meeting with an influential person—one who matters deeply to me. And by the time we were sitting together a half hour or so, I had conceded and let him talk me into the expected thing. Thing one, not thing two. (And now I’m thinking about Cat in the Hat!) Option one isn’t bad. It’s just one more time where I said yes to the pressure, yes to being what others want of me. And those yes answers feel like a no to me. I sacrificed my current dream and my preferences to make other people around me happy—again.

I stare at the screen after I hit send. That paragraph says more than I’ve ever shared with a therapist or even with Brigitte.

Wordivore’s cursor blinks. I wait eagerly to see what he’ll type. And then it comes:I’m sorry you let yourself down.

Yeah. I did.

Can I say something?I love that he asks that instead of barreling forward like so many men do, mansplaining and solving before even wiping their feet on the proverbial mat.

Sure. Shoot. I sit back, taking a long pull from my water. I read along as Wordivore types out his thoughts.

We tend to view things as this or that. Option A or B. No middle ground. Most things in life aren’t that cut and dry. We also expect ourselves to change overnight. It sounds like you have a history of bending to please the people who matter to you. And that’s notbad—not until you feel like you’re selling out (preaching to the choir over here, and I know I need to hear this as much as I need to say it).

So, let’s say we both decide we’ve had enough of the back-bending, conceding, disregarding ourselves and our dreams for the sake of the bigger picture. What if we decide we matter enough to pursue a goal or a dream that is a little unpopular (or a lot)? We won’t make those changes in leaps and bounds. Change happens over time—like the seasons. Like a plant growing. Like a child becoming an adult. We don’t change overnight. We change by increments.

So, you decided your dream matters. That’s huge. You listened to yourself. Next time, you might stand your ground a little more. And the time after that, you might even say no to a part of something—find a compromise, or at least let your voice be heard. In time you’ll be the woman who chases her dreams with both hands. But for now, you did a big thing. You listened to yourself and you decided your dreams matter.

I feel the warm prick of tears behind my eyes, and I don’t even swipe them as they swell, forming a watery lens and blurring my view of the screen slightly.

Wordivore sees me.

The one person who has no idea who I am or what I do just affirmed me in a way I don’t think anyone ever has before. And the patient tone of his voice came through even though I’ve never met him in real life.

And I never will.

I can’t, of course.

And tonight, that feels like a bigger loss than the starring role I wish I had taken in the modern Shakespeare adaptation.

NINE

Alana

You don't marry someone you can live with,

you marry the person you cannot live without.

~ P.S. I Love You

“It’s an all white party,” Mother announces over what sounds like her car phone.

“Okay. All white. I’m assuming I’ll need something new to wear.”

I’m on my deck this morning, my yoga mat unfurled beneath me, surrounded by the view of treetops and rooftops and the ocean beyond Marbella. Our call is on speaker so I can continue through my poses while we talk.

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