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"When I was growing up, I always wanted to be someone. Now I realize I should have been more specific."
~Lily Tomlin
This was definitely the most ridiculous thing Jessica Halloway had ever done. Embarrassing.Stupid, even. The worst part was that she knew it wouldn’t work, and yet she’d spent sixty-five dollars plus tax and shipping anyway. There was no way on earth that an herbal vagina steam bath was going to ‘reset her emotional wellbeing so effectively that she’d restore both her energy and sense of optimism to that of a toddler in just one use’ —despite what the glossy brochure claimed.
But KirasBestLife.com was having a Fall in Love With Yourself twenty percent off sale so Jess went ahead and ordered it, throwing a wish to the universe that this would finally be the silver bullet for which she’d been searching. And here she stood in her tidy bathroom, naked from the waist down, feeling utterly foolish, not to mention chilly, while she waited for the filtered water in the sandalwood steam bowl to cool.Welp, I guess this is happening, she thought.
She might as well do this today. It had been an awful evening. Her son Noah, at the tender age of fifteen, had gotten it in his head that he and his friends should throw a Halloween party in a hotel room. He’d come home from school and started begging Jess to borrow her credit card with the promise of paying for all of it himself.
Obviously, she gave him a hard no, but that didn’t stop him from pressing the issue, then raising it again when her husband, Mike (who was already extremely stressed because he lost a major client to another accounting firm), got home from work. Then it was game on. She felt like she should have filmed and narrated it, nature-documentary-style.“The young male challenges the family patriarch yet again, hoping to prove his ability to outwit his father, and therefore be granted the independence he has so long desired. But it’s not to be today for the young buck. The father is unwilling to yield and hand over his credit card so his son can trash a hotel room or impregnate a female of the species. The young male will have to try again another day, when he is stronger and wiser.”
The argument raged through supper, but finally died off when Noah was sent to his room to do his homework, which meant he was in there playing Call of Duty on his computer, but at least the fighting had stopped. So Jess sneaked up to the bathroom to give this latest cure-all a try. It had gotten to the point where Jess wasthatdesperate. She’d been miserable for so long now, she was willing to try anything. She had to find a way to ‘fill her cup,’ as her therapist, Fern, had told her.
Although, Jess supposed calling Fern her therapist was a stretch. It’s not like she saw her regularly and Fern now had all the dirt on her. She saw her once, three years ago, about a week after the Canada incident—an event of which she was so ashamed, she still hadn’t told a soul. As soon as she booked the appointment, she felt horribly guilty about spending two hundred dollars for an hour (which turned out to be fifty minutes because Fern needs ten minutes to ‘reset’ before her next appointment). Jess gave her a lightning-fast laundry list of everything that might be wrong with her, as if ‘speed therapy’ were a thing. Now that she thought about it, why wasn’t speed therapy a thing? Million-dollar idea right there.
But back to her list: a perpetual sense of doom, chronic irritability, and a general lack of enthusiasm about everything. Her hope was that in one session, she’d be given the insight she needed to fix herself up and carry on. With one perfect sentence from Fern, suddenly the clouds would part, the weight on her shoulders would lift, and she’d walk out into the daylight renewed, restored, and transformed.
But at the end, all Fern said was, “Do you think you value the opinion men have of you more than that of other women?”
“Umm … no.”
“Hmm … let’s put a pin in that and explore it next week.” Fern opened her appointment book, which was conveniently on the side table next to her armchair. “I can do Monday at three.”
“I’m picking my kids up from school at that time.”
“Can your husband pick them up once a week?”
“His office is forty minutes from the school, and he doesn’t have the flexibility I do.”
Fern stared at Jess with that same neutral (yet totally judgey) expression. “What’s a good time for you?”
You can’t afford this. Her face hot with shame, Jess said, “I’m actually really busy. I was kind of hoping you could just… set me on the right track today so I could take it from here.”
“That’s not how therapy works, Jessica. It took years to build these unhealthy patterns you’ve described. You can’t expect to fix things in an hour.”
“Fifty minutes,” she muttered, adding, “technically,” as if it softened the dig.
Fern had the good grace to ignore it (or maybe she just didn’t want to lose a patient). “This is important. You owe it to yourself and your family to do the work. Before you burn out or worse, do something you regret. These issues, if left unchecked, can cause any number of irrational actions that carry with them the heaviest of consequences.”
“Right, yeah,” she told her, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “The thing is, for now, I can’t commit that much time.”
Tilting her head to the side, Fern sighed. “You need to set yourself as a priority. As Oprah says, you have to fill your cup first or you’ll have nothing to give others. Your homework this week is to figure out what you can give up that will allow you to do this work. You’ll find something, I’m sure.” Standing, she walked over to the door. “It was lovely to meet you, Jessica. Call me when you’re ready to get serious.”
Fast forward to now. Jess hadn’t tried to find anything she could give up to pay for therapy. She also hadn’t found a good way to tell Mike she needed a therapist. Instead, she convinced him they should get a puppy—to teach the kids about empathy and responsibility. But really she hoped it would distract her from her increasingly strong desire to get in her car and drive far, far away by herself. Forever. Probably to California, where she would live in a mint green VW van that she would lovingly convert to an adorable camper. She’d park it next to a white sand beach and fish her dinner out of the ocean while she watched the sunset. Yes, California was the place she’d go if she ever hit the point where she couldn’t take it anymore. People seemed much happier there than here in rainy Seattle.
After weeks of cajoling and showing him adorable puppies in need of forever homes on her phone, Mike finally cracked, and they picked up Baxter, an adorable light brown and white cava-poo (Cavalier King Charles Spaniel/poodle cross). It had worked for a while. Jess had been so busy sleep-training, house-training, and teaching him not to chew on the plants and cords, that she didn’t have time to think about the bigger picture. But then, after a few months, Baxter settled into their family and the awful, restless feeling returned.
She was bored. No, not bored. How can someone so busy be bored? It was more like disconnected—slightly separated from everything and everyone around her. She didn’t see the point of any of it, which seemed ridiculous because on paper, Jess had it all. A healthy, mostly-happy family, a part-time job she didn’t mind going to, financial security, good friends. It was enough that she felt guilty wanting anything more. But that didn’t change the fact that shedidwant more. She wanted to live. Some other life. One that amazed her or, more accurately, one in which she was amazing. Before she was Jessica Halloway, she was Jessica Saunders. And Jessica Saunders was supposed to be extraordinary. She was going to do something important in this world, like run a Fortune 500 company or be a high-powered attorney. She’d be out in the world making her mark and people would say, ‘There goes Jessica Saunders. Look at her. So determined and talented, not to mention dressed to kill.’ Jessica Saunders had actually settled on going to law school, and had even scored in the top five percent in the country on her LSAT. But then she got married and she and Mike decided he should focus on his career first, since he already had his degree and only needed to sit for the exams to get his Chartered Professional Accountant designation. But then Winnie came along, followed by Noah, and pretty soon, she’d forgotten all about picking up her studies where she’d left off.
That had happened so long ago, she completely forgot that she used to be thrilled by it all. Jess Saunders was one of those enthusiastic, take-life-by-the-horns sort of girls. The life of the party. She’d dance all night, she’d laugh all day. She was witty. Smart. Great at banter. People were drawn to her. She loved everything. Impromptu trip to Mexico?I’ll grab my passport.Sex?Yes, please. Plenty of it.Mountain mud pie with caramel sauce for dessert?Hand me a fork.
Jess missed her. She really,reallyfrigging missed her. She knew that impressive young woman was buried somewhere inside her. She must be there, right? So, where was she?
Since the failed attempt at therapy, she’d tried forest bathing, green powder drinks that claimed to support emotional health, spent the last year writing in a gratitude journal, and meditated until her lips felt like they might fall off from making the ‘Ommmm’ sound, all in a desperate attempt to find her. So, in a ‘what the hell?’ moment of weakness, she decided to order the luxury vagina steam bath kit.
She stilled herself for a second, straining her ears in case someone was coming. She would never tell anyone she’d done this. Except her best friend, Diana (who was also a devotee of lifestyle and wellness guru Kira Popowich). Jess had already told her she bought the kit, and Diana was going to get one too if Jess got results. Diana, whose husband, Victor, was an anesthesiologist, wouldn’t worry about waiting for a sale. But other than Diana, she’d tell no one. Not even Rachael, who, while not her best friend, was a close second, not that Jess would ever number a human like that. Although, she supposed she just had. Rachael, a hugely successful career consultant for bored CEOs, CFOs, and other wealthy initials, would laugh her head off if she knew. She couldn’t stand Kira Popowich, or any of the other woo-woo happiness experts of the world. Rachael believed in two things: working hard and not taking any shit from anyone ever. Rachael was divorced. Jessica was married and didn’t know what she believed in anymore.
