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I’m here expecting mom to be at least a little bit happy for me, as her little girl is piecing her life together and showing signs of self-reliance. But instead, Mrs. Judith Thompson lets out an “Oh no!” and brings her hands to her face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, confused.
“How will you maintain your relationship?” She splays her hands to me, looking deeply concerned, “With him traveling so much and you with your acting career, how will you two ever find time to see each other?”
I furrow my brow and cross my arms, as angry as I can get with her.
“You’re worried about that instead of being happy for me pursuing my dream?” I say, indignant.
“It’s not that, Elsa!” She stands to go tend to the stove. Meat and carrots are ready, so she transfers them from the pan to a dish. “It’s just that you need to set up your priorities; don’t you love this man?”
“Mom!” I explode, getting wildly defensive. My emotions have been all over the place and I just snap.
“Stop putting so much pressure on me!”
“What are you saying, Elsa?” mom feels her heart, and as if taken by angina, leans over the counter to catch her breath.
“What you heard, mom!” I slam my fists over the table and let everything out. “Yes, I care about Harvey, but I also care about my acting dream, which I’ve had since I was a child. As you know! Why can’t I do both?”
Mom slowly places her hand in front of her mouth and shakes her head. Without a word, she keeps on placing the food on the dishes to serve them on the table, and only when my father walks in does she says anything.
“Elsa has something she wants to tell you,” she says, as if dad would be able to fix the situation.
But I just shake my head, refusing to speak.
Luckily, dad could tell I didn’t want to talk and didn’t push it.
I finish lunch quickly and silently, then wash my plate and head straight to my basement to get ready for my appointment.
I don’t know if it’s the nerves or what, but I end up puking in the basement bathroom. When I drink some ginger ale afterward, I feel slightly better.
I change into jeans and a sweater and put my hair up in a high ponytail. I take a few more deep breaths, drink more ginger ale, then brush my teeth.
I grab my things and with my head held high, I walk out of my parents’ house to get into the car I booked and head to my therapy appointment.
I’ve never been in therapy before so I’m not sure what to expect, but I’m looking forward to getting the help I need.
The office is small and there isn’t a single living soul in the lobby, so I wait around for a while until an older woman shows up with a broom and pan at hand.
“Excuse me, do you know where I can find Sheila?” I ask the lady, who looks at me with curiosity.
“Last door down the corridor,” she points.
“Thank you,” I say with a smile, and she nods back at me.
I walk down the corridor. When I knock on the semi-open door, I see a brunette woman furiously typing on a laptop. My knock draws her attention, and with a shy sign of her hand, she smiles and invites me in.
“You must be Elsa,” she says, walking around her desk to greet me.
“That’s right,” I nod and smile.
“Lovely to meet you in person. I’m Sheila. Please take a seat and I’ll bring the necessary paperwork over.” She points me to a free chair across from hers.
After I feel everything out, I sit patiently. I feel grateful to Harvey for helping me get this far. I know I can be stubborn and not only was it a relief to tell him about my stage fright, but now I feel empowered with the ability to finally do something about it.
As if I need any more reassurance, when Dr. Hallebrand opens the door to her office and invites me in from the reception area, I feel a sense of calm as she welcomes me in.
Afterwards, I’m taking the bus to go back home and I’m already looking forward to my next appointment with Dr. Hallebrand. We talked about my goals and how the panic attacks and stage fright had been preventing me from reaching them since graduation. It felt so good to get it all out, and she was so encouraging and has helped so many others before.
