Ellie’s Story: Chunk 4
After finally starting my journal, I woke up the next morning feeling confused. Was this a good thing I was doing? Was I dredging up old feelings I had safely tucked away that weren’t bothering me anymore?
I set aside my doubts and went to work. The good thing about working as an IT person is that computers only talk to me in bits and bytes. I can handle that. I do have people around me, and they talk in more than bits and bytes, but I can usually handle them. When I can’t, I close my office door and enjoy the quiet while I work. Problem-solving helps me regain my center.
My favorite coworker is Penny. Penny is in her mid-forties, so a bit older than me, and she is very thoughtful and often funny. On this particular morning, when I walked in, she looked at me, scrunched up her nose, and said, “Exactly what happened to you, and don’t skimp on the details.”
I guess I looked a little off, and I don’t hide my emotions anyway. I had to update Penny on my new personal project.
The last project I shared with Penny had to do with colors. I was picking new favorite colors because it was time I moved on from blue and green, which I took to mean optimism and growth. Those colors were picked when I was a kid because I loved looking at the blue sky and lying on green grass.
As I was nearing forty, I decided I needed new colors to match my maturity. It may sound kindergarten-like, but colors mean a lot to me, and I have grown. It was time to show it. Maybe there was a daring red in my future. Or a royal purple. Or even a watchful yellow. Penny told me that rainbows are in, and I could feel GLAD about that.
Penny loves puns.
There is more to Penny, though, than the giggles. When I asked Penny whether she had a favorite color, she thought for a moment and then announced, “Gray.” That sounded so boring, but she explained that gray matched the drab she felt inside.
This felt sad to me, and so I pushed back until I realized that her truth was her truth. That sounded like something either Coach or even Alfred might say.
Her truth? Maybe it started with her saying she was “the rough side of a penny.” I knew she was making another pun based on her name, but really, I thought, can’t she see herself for a silver dollar if we’re going with coins as our symbol?
Her picking gray confirmed what I always suspected. Self-esteem was as much an issue for Penny as it was for me. Maybe that’s why I took to her immediately and felt our strong connection.
I haven’t given up on eventually getting Penny to see her worth more closely approximating a silver dollar. Smarts and loyalty have got to count for something and she is loaded with that. Helping her to see herself differently has become a major goal of mine, but I know that timing is everything. So, I will pick carefully when I make my case.
Alfred knew timing was important the night he knocked on my door, asking me to find someone to talk to. He knew my day was done, and I was tired but relaxed. I could hear him.
So, when the time is right, I will announce to Penny, “Royal blue.” She’ll wonder what’s going on, and then I’ll present her with a gift that is royal blue — maybe a scarf to wear around her neck. When we talk about the gift, she will see it as a twofer. She’ll understand there’s more to the tift than just a scarf. She’s that smart.
Back to that question Penny asked me when she first greeted me this morning… why did I look so disheveled? This was a conversation we needed to have. I fessed up.
Me: Penny, I did something very unusual last night.
Penny: Let me guess. You went out on a date. I’m always telling you there is a lost opportunity there. You’re smart, attractive, and often interesting… sometimes not, if I’m being honest.
Me: There’s no one in my life that I could even imagine going on a date with. By the way, saying “going on a date” makes you sound very old.
Penny: Sorry. I should have said, “Hooking up.”
Me: No, that’s worse. Change of subject. I’m ready to share why I look the way I do this morning.
Penny: Good. You have 5 seconds to get it out, or I’ll let a rumor swirl that you were out on a date.
Me: It’s this simple. I started writing in a journal.
Penny: That’s the least interesting thing you’ve said in a long while, and you’ve said a lot of boring things. By the way, I don’t think journal writing usually causes people to look like you do this morning.
Me: You’re looking at it wrong. Alfred’s coach thought it would be helpful for me to deal with past traumas. Maybe the thought of going back in time — revisiting some real low points in my life — explains my look.
Now Penny got this excited look and couldn’t contain herself.
“Talk about burying the lede. You saw Coach?”
That she even referred to him as Coach reminded me of how much she knew about us, and before I could answer her, she said, “Day or night?”
“What?” I asked.
“Was it during the day or night that you saw Coach?”
Ok. I had to stop this conversation. Penny was starting to annoy me. She sometimes tramples on my personal boundaries. I was now going to make our conversation very short.
“I saw Coach over breakfast at Coleman’s Diner. I shared with him that Alfred wants me to find someone to talk to as he looks ahead at college. Alfred thinks I could be doing better.”
This made Penny laugh as she mumbled, “Can’t we all?”
It took me a while to get all my words out because Penny kept interrupting me. She really only wanted to know about my breakfast with Coach. I really only wanted to tell her about journal writing and feeling exposed by revisiting past traumas.
I shared with her that I started my new project by writing about being in a choir. At the time, I had been seeking friends, and this felt like an easy way to find them. But it turned out not to be, and so I dropped choir. Then, I had the uncomfortable job of having to reassure my mother that I was fine and would find some other way to find friends.
Now, Penny interrupted.
“So, you told your mom at the time that you were fine, like Alfred told you when you suggested Coach? Isn’t it interesting how history repeats itself?”
And she didn’t even know that I re-used those same words about me with Alfred the other night. Seeing Penny piece together everything felt almost eerie, but I was comforted by a friend who knew me so well, and she was right. History was repeating itself.
After some silence, Penny said, “Well, it’s time for us to go back and deal with our piles — electronic or otherwise. But rest assured, I am going to think about this some. If journaling turns out to be good for you, I might follow and see what it does for me.
This made me smile. It could be one small step in changing her color — I mean coin.
As she left my office, she added,
“Now, I see why my interest in you and Coach was irritating. It really wasn’t the headline — even if I wish it were — or even if it becomes so.”
Then she gave me that devilish smile meant to make me think.
What did I do? I closed my office door and pretended that she hadn’t achieved what she aimed to. It was only 10 a.m., but I felt double-exhausted. I could tell this next personal project was going to be very consuming.
Ellie’s Story is a novel in the making. Here is the previous piece.
There's a very nice, soft, gentle shift in your style, in that narrative "voice", from the teenagers to the adult woman... I like Ellie's story!