Chunk #31 in Ellie’s Story: Coming of Age at 40
I was preparing to see Tova and focused on identifying my weaker side. I needed to offer a well-thought-out self-assessment.
For a reason I didn’t understand, my mind wandered to my dad. He was such a jovial man to spend time with, which is why he had so many friends. I remember when my parents separated and how lonely I felt. My mom was depressed, and my dad wasn’t around. So, there I was, without many friends, looking at the sky while I lay on the grass, finding comfort in a story I told myself about blue and green, optimism and growth.
When my dad came back into our lives, we were a happy family again. That jug of water Tova likes to mention for the person who has been in the desert too long — was what my dad brought us. He didn’t bring it for long, though. He died six months later. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who should have a heart attack. He carried himself so light, with so little stress.
When my dad died, I was back to looking at the sky and fantasizing about a positive ending for my mom and me. Would she remarry? Would I find more friends?
My mom went back to work, starting as a bookkeeper, and our world changed for the better. We had some money so basic needs could be met. Also, she was happier and more present for me. I became president of the math club, which meant I had some responsibilities managing the club, and my mom had some new-found pride in me.
Strangely, my grief over my dad kept me anchored. I made my days fuller, maybe as a distraction, and found good things to tell my mom. I was compensating for our loss, but it worked to our benefit. My mom and I could find things to talk about. Also, I could make her smile. Seeing my mom look happy, even for an instant, meant everything.
I felt prepared to talk to Tova. I now wanted the conversation that I had been avoiding.
Tova: Eleanor, it feels like a long time since we’ve talked.
Me: It’s been two weeks, which feels too long, based on what’s going on in my life.
Tova: Where should we start?
Me: With my self-assessment.
This was the topic I had stewed on for some time. I told Tova that she was right that I took pride in my smarts. The question I was working on was identifying my weaknesses.
Tova: Did I say “weaknesses?” That’s not how I think of areas where we benefit from getting help. Aside from that, I don’t see you as weak. You’ve only shown me how firm and clear-headed you are in managing your challenges.
I heard Tova, felt somewhat flattered, and then shared the story of my dad — the fun and then loneliness he brought to our lives. When he came back, it was utter joy. When he died suddenly, it was a deep loss that we are still compensating for.
Tova: How so?
Me: I am always finding something positive to say about a given moment, even when it’s dark. I also make sure everyone hears me. I don’t like living in the land of the dark and angry.
Tova: Does wearing rosy glasses work for you?
Me: Mostly. Better than not wearing anything.
Tova: Does it bother others?
Me: It can. It can also help some.
Tova: How does it affect your relationship with Tom?
This gave me pause for thought. The truth is that I feel the world around us is genuinely positive. I don’t feel the need to wear rosy glasses, but I do fear it might collapse if I’m not careful.
Me: Your question has now helped me to locate a big problem for me. I am very scared of again experiencing the type of darkness I felt as a child. What if Tom and I don’t last? How will I cope? What will I tell myself?
Tova just listened.
Now, I was no longer speaking, as we sat in quiet. I had nothing else to say until Tova eventually offered, “Has your positivity helped you with Alfred?”
“Definitely.”
“When you’re with friends, do you find yourself looking for the sunny side as it relates to them?”
“Yes.”
“Does it bother them?”
“No. I think they have grown to depend on it.”
“When was the last time you felt major disappointment and had to deal with loss?”
“When David was killed.”
“But not since?”
“Not really. Small daily nuisances but not a major disappointment.”
“I think you should share this with Tom. If you love each other, and I believe you do, then the experience of sharing your most vulnerable thoughts deepens a healthy relationship. I suspect Tom will receive this information and wonder how he can make you feel at ease with your future together. He will want to help you build confidence around you as a couple. At least, that’s my guess.”
I considered Tova’s words. What would Tom’s reaction be? I reminded myself that I have stood tall this whole time and raised an autistic son who is well integrated into his world. In other words, I’ve succeeded.
I want Tom and I want a future together, but it helps me to know that I don’t depend on it. Tova was smart to help lead me there.
Tova helped me on other fronts as well. We talked about Alfred and how to “gently” rock his world. I assumed that when Alfred found out about Tom and me, it would feel like a personal earthquake. Tova and I discussed my mom, Baltimore, and Alfred’s newly discovered grandparents.
More than anything, though, Tova helped me see the value of letting Tom see me in my most raw form. While I am a yoga-loving, smart mom and professional, I am also vulnerable. I can show Tom my warts, and I don’t think he’ll be scared.
The word “equivalency” came to mind as I considered this. I won’t be scared when he shows me his weaker side. I think I’ll feel comforted that he can confide in me.
My last thought was about how I’m positive to my core. My grief about my dad has led me to new pastures, and I still believe in the green and blue.