When up-and-coming model Isabelle meets talented but jaded photographer Milo, sparks fly despite their age difference. Their romance becomes the talk of the New York City fashion scene, fueling rumors and speculation about their scandalous affair. A...
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2 weeks later
"You can't even talk about it," the therapist across her told her in a matter of factedly way.
And she was right, she couldn't.
Isabelle swallowed, feeling her discomfort show on her neck and chest in red splotches, but she diecided to lean in to it.
So far words like 'deprsonalizstion', and 'repression' were said out loud.
Isabelle was trying to articualte how she couldn't articultar her true feelings. To others, much less Milo.
It's like she was the litel mermaid, and she no longer had avoice. Each time she tried to say something, there was a huge barrier. Like she wasn't allowing herself to love.
She blinked, staring at her pepermint tea in her hads, half finsihed.
"I..." Isabelle tried starting again, but couldn't.
"Alright," the therapist, a freidnly looking red head, sighed audibly and wrote another note on her iPad. Isabelle did not want to look at that, it would be too much. "Here's what I want you to do. Go sit in a quiet room, and write what you wish you could say to him. Write out what you would ay to him, and you're going to say it to me. That way , it is a good pratice at communicating. I on't. Are if you do it in a song, or a poem, or a story....just write it out. And if you feel uncomforatbel, lean into it."
Isabelle nodded, and at that their time was up and Isabelle proceeded to walk out of hte office with the same heavy baggage that she came into. But at least it was a little bit more sorted now. It was a lot like when she would travel abraod for jobs, abnd she would hate comign back and cleaning out and sorting all her shit, but it alwayts made her feel so much better after.
She realized then that there was no point in looking for new love, if she didnt first yet learn how to love. Or somehting like that.
She sabotages her relatioshhups just becasue shes not able to communicate or commit or ask for what she wants.
She stood outside, on the corner of the streeet, a little bit shocked.
Instead of going home, she took a bus to the library.
She needed to be around people right now.
It was like she knew she could feel things - she did - so strongly. But she had no idea how to express herself. She had so much fear of her ownself and others. Of rejection and of love.
When she was modeling, she was expressing herself. It was one of the few things where she could let go.
She was used to not having a voice, but she expressed herself in other ways. But now she saw, it didnt work like that in human relationships.
It stung her, realizing she self created her own prison.
