“This is a safe space. Tell me when you’re ready.”
“It’s just…my parents didn’t like emotions. They were too messy. It was easier to keep things inside.”
“Do you still feel like emotions are messy?” she asks.
“Yes?” I clear my throat. “Things had to be perfect growing up. The better grades I got, the more attention I got from my parents. If I got a bad grade, I got a stern look and that was it. There was no room for messy things like feelings.”
“Emotions are messy. You’re allowed to feel messy.”
“That’s something I’ve heard before.”
“But you don’t believe it?”
“It’s hard when I grew upnotbelieving it. At least not until…”
It’s the first time I’m talking with this woman and I don’t know how much I want to divulge.
“Until what?”
Well, I guess she took care of that.
“I met someone. Someone I really liked.”
“And how is that going?”
“It’s not. I ended things.”
She gives me an understanding nod. “Why did you end things?”
“It got too messy. He wasn’t in my plan.”
“Messy because you were feeling things?”
I can only nod my head because thinking of Tag is too painful. My chin quivers.
“What if I told you messy things can be wonderful?”
That grabs my attention. “How?”
“It seems this person you met meant something to you? Probably still does?”
I nod and she continues.
“Maybe this person was showing you how life could be.It doesn’t have to be perfect and planned out, but can be messy and imperfect together.”
“But…I had a plan.”
“Okay. Tell me about your plan.”
Shifting, I pull my legs under my butt and sink back into the couch. I pick at a stray thread in the hem of my jumper.
“I wanted to find a nice guy, get married, have kids, get a dog, and find a good flat in the city.”
Hannah recrosses her legs and adjusts her glasses. “It seems to me you’re already following your plan.”
“But Tag isn’t the right guy.”
“Says who?”
