While dwelling on an agonizing phone call, during which she was told by her boyfriend that he’d fallen for another, Allis rolled onto her back in bed. She then struggled to resist the temptation to trick herself into believing a call to the fellow wouldn’t, yet again, go unanswered.
With the rehashing ordeal tearing into her stomach, she eventually sat up, covered face with hands and began sobbing. Though she badly wanted to recover from the seven-month-old loss, finding a way out of her lingering depression continued to elude her. Feeling she allowed herself to be blindsided had resulted in relentless belittling self-blame.
Thankful it was a Saturday and, as a result, able to brood without intruding office co-workers, Allis dragged herself from bed, then slogged to the kitchen to make coffee. As bad luck would have it, though, her relied upon way to start the day was delayed. When she turned on the faucet, water squirted from the handle. As a result, the day-long solitary gloom she’d planned had to be interrupted. Grudgingly, she called maintenance.
Soon after the call, a hearty knock brought Allis to her peephole. Somewhat surprised to see a middle-aged overall-clad woman holding a tool chest in one hand and a new faucet in the other, Allis stepped aside while opening the door. “You came quickly,” she muttered.
“I’m Meddy—the new maintenance tech. A trickle can needlessly turn into a torrent quickly. I’d like to dash to and dive under the problem,” noted the woman while hurrying to the kitchen sink.
“I hope this won’t take long,” whined Allis.
Soon sitting on the floor, Meddy flipped the purple ball cap she was wearing backward, opened the cabinet under the sink, moved a few items, then thrust her head and arms out of sight. “Because of the age of the faucets, the owners have given me the green light to install new ones when a leak happens,” noted Meddy as she reemerged. “It’ll take about 45 minutes. Is this a good time?”
Allis drooped shoulders. “It’ll have to be,” she moaned.
Picking up on Allis’s poutiness, Meddy double-checked. “Are you sure?”
“You’re here and ready. Please just get started,” answered Allis as she sat at her kitchen table.
“OK” agreed Meddy while turning to empty the cabinet in order to make more room to maneuver. Her usual chatty self, Meddy offered some small talk as she grabbed a tool and went to work under the sink. “I’ve just moved to this area. Maybe you can fill me in on what there is to like about the town.”
“Having a long relationship end has left me pretty negative about most everything,” revealed Allis.
“Sorry to hear about your hardship. I know something about such a woe,” noted Meddy.
“Half the time I’m in the doldrums; the other half I’m angrily clenching teeth and fists,” replied Allis, venting to the stranger.
Feeling scrunched, Meddy joked about her weight. “I do believe I’m going to have to set a date to begin that diet I’ve been putting off,” she kidded before commenting on what Allis had shared. “Earlier in life, the depression and rage I felt after breakups made wanting to retaliate seem super appropriate. I didn’t care about two wrongs not making a right. I just wanted to unload the giant gob of hurt I was lugging around with flailing haymakers. Thank goodness my fear of boomerang payback kept me from going ballistic!”
“It’s hard to realize things can get worse when you feel like you’ve hit rock bottom. Sometimes you just want to somehow get even. . . . Though it’s been 216 days, I feel like I got dumped yesterday,” moaned Allis.
“Wow, you’re counting the days until the moo-moos come home,” noted Meddy.
“Moo-moos,” wondered Allis.
“Cows—just a hick way of saying that knowing better doesn’t always keep us from doing dumb,” explained Meddy.
“All I know is getting jilted for someone else is the worst. . . . He was the one,” said Allis with certainty.
Meddy pulled herself into full view, then made sure she understood what she was hearing. “When you say ‘the one,’ you mean you considered him to be irreplaceable Mr. Right”
“Yeah,” softly muttered Allis.
“Having a Mr. Right find someone else is very familiar,” relayed Meddy before again tunneling under the cabinet. Losing eye contact with Allis didn’t keep Meddy from divulging more personal history. “After divorce one and two, I badmouthed my ex’s cheating and my relationship-bungling for months. Fortunately, I was able to limit my bewailing after split three to a few weeks.”
Stirred by the uncommon openness of the maintenance worker, Allis straightened. “What made what followed your third breakup different?”
“Some who know me would say that, after becoming weary of beating up on myself, I saw the light,” shared Meddy.
“Relatives and friends tell me to just get over the jerk. Is that the kind of eye-opener you’re talking about?” grumbled Allis.
“Sort of, but Mr. Right’s jerkiness isn’t the real issue, is it?” posed Meddy as she tugged the edge of the counter to again appear.
Allis was not only puzzled but also somewhat miffed. “Why isn’t his jerkiness the real issue?”
“Answering that question would mean relaying my revelation. Because I don’t want to sound like I’m some sort of a whiz-bang at healing, I’ll need to share what led up to my insight. Is that OK with you?”
“Yeah,” agreed Allis.
“My revelation followed a chat with a counselor I went to,” answered Meddy, leaning against the cabinet.
“You must have lucked out,” said a curious Allis.
“Not according to him,” replied Meddy.
“Huh?” asked a perplexed Allis.
“When I asked him if he was any good, he said, with much sincerity, that he suspected he fell somewhat short of being mediocre,” recalled Meddy.
“That seems like an odd thing for a counselor to tell someone needing help,” said Allis, wanting to hear more.
“When I told him that in so many words, he said something even more unexpected. He told me he most likely wouldn’t be helpful unless I was on my way to feeling better on my own. . . . ‘Is a part of you at least starting to realize your dreamy dreamboat is a dreary dingy,’ he asked?'” shared Meddy with a chuckle just before ducking, then gliding back into position to finish unhooking the old faucet.
Allis scratched her head. “He admitted to being a less-than run of the mill counselor who only helped people who didn’t need his help,” she noted with a frown.
“That’s right! Hearing such a thing prompted me to tell him he sounded like a waste of money,” said a giggling Meddy.
Allis, perked up. “What did he say to that?”
“He told me that I was making sense if I was saying he couldn’t be relied upon. He also said that, if requested, he’d give me a full refund. . . . He then went to his desk to get a box of dark chocolate bark. ‘Please treat yourself to a few celebration chunks,’ he offered as he extended the hand holding the temptation.”
“He wasn’t making sense! You got your money back, then walked out, right?” assumed Allis.
“Nope,” answered Meddy. “I asked what the heck we were celebrating. After a weak smile, he answered by telling me ‘we’re celebrating the fact that I sounded ready to give up on him. In response, I sat stunned for a moment. Then, I smiled back while reaching for a piece of the scrumptious looking chocolate.”
Allis was flustered. “I don’t understand.”
“Meddy bent her head sideways to make eye contact. “He was helping me give up on not only him but also others. It was invigorating,” shared Meddy.
“What about your feelings for your ex?” asked Allis.
“I suddenly found myself letting my dreamy dreamboat become a dreary dinghy,” answered Meddy as she jarred herself into full view, then stood in order to remove the old faucet and position the new one.
“What’s a dinghy, anyway?” asked Allis.
“It’s a small, commonplace rowboat. Aren’t the people we’re madly in love with always fantasy dreamboats doomed for deflated dinghyhood?” asked Meddy before returning to the confining work area under the sink.
Feeling put on the spot by the question, Allis rose, then began pacing back and forth. “But when —p>
After glancing through the open cabinet doorway and seeing Allis whisking by, Meddy tried to explain. “Everything is fine until the one’s ego provokes him or her to desire and pursue a new and improved dreamboat, right?”
Determined to deny the reason she felt rejected had just been summed up, Allis quickened her to-and-fro march. “It can’t be that simple. There’s gotta be more to it than getting dumped because the person we’re in love with finds a ‘new and improved dreamboat’ comes alone!”
“What more-to-it is there? Most everyone is taught to be on the look out for a dreamboat, right?” proposed Meddy.
“People mess-up. . . . Feeling as terrible as I do must mean I really messed up,” argued Allis.
Meddy was quick with a reply. “I, too, felt I, time and again, messed up badly. Dwelling on trying to pinpoint how I messed up turned into a desperate hunt for self-worth. My desperation lead to futilely begging for a second chances. The humiliation pleading brings about set me up for more hurt and more misery,”
A whimpering Allis again plopped onto a kitchen chair, then dropped elbows on the table and face into hands.
Concerned, Meddy wiggled into full view, knelt on the linoleum floor, sat back on heels, then continued to share her past strife. “Despite the fact that my hurt was prompting me to do otherwise, I held on to what amounted to a crock of wishful thinking. The result was setbacks, during which I refused to let go of believing I was nothing without my dreamboat.”
Allis began to cry. “How much, much longer are you going, going to be?” she stammered.
Aware that Allis was more than a little upset, Meddy apologized. “I’m sorry, I’ll shut my mouth and finish. I just need to attach the water lines,” she noted as she bent to yet again crawl under the sink.
Meanwhile, a distressed Allis was desperate for relief. “How did you end the pain?” she angrily asked.
Not wanting to agitate Allis further, Meddy chose her words carefully. “I remember letting go—which was really me taking charge. During the drive home from my visit with my less-than mediocre counselor, I recalled something he said after hearing me fuss on and on about how awful I felt. It was something he correctly noted I had long known.”
“What’s that?” intently asked Allis.
“‘Unlike people, dreamboats go poof once they’re correctly seen as make believe,'” answered Meddy. . . . “I came to realize my pain continued with my permission. . . . Reminding myself of that shores up looking for the nice in my life rather than the love of my life,” she gently relayed, hoping she was helpful.
Rather than calm down, Allis erupted. Abruptly folding arms as she once more stood, she irately stomped around her kitchen table, then emphasized her need for solitude. “I need you to finish!”
Uh-oh, thought Meddy. “Just one line left to tighten,” she assured. With her tools soon packed, Meddy grabbed her tool chest and the old faucet, then headed for the door.
At what appeared to be daybreak, a panicking Allis found herself standing in a dinghy that was rocking in the choppy water of a lake. Struggling to steady the boat, she feared capsizing. Eventually turning around, she spotted an woman on shore—a sight that prompted Allis to begin shouting for help.
Soon standing in knee-high water, the woman hollered to Allis. “Just sit down and row to safety! Trust me; . . . you can do it!” she advised. Each of the following four times the woman gave the preceding instruction and encouragement, she did so more intensely.
Finally spurred by her mounting fright as well as the woman’s persistence, Allis sat, picked up the ends of the oars and began rowing toward shore with her back to the woman.
“I’m going to congratulate you for being nice to yourself,” yelled the woman.
Half way to shore, after turning her head to check where she was headed, Allis found the woman calling to her was, in fact, Meddy. Once within a few feet of land, Allis again twisted toward shore. This time she saw herself. “I’m helping myself!” she softly declared.
Promptly transported to her bedroom, Allis found herself lying in bed. Blinking as she awakened, she sprung upward, then burst from her bed and headed toward the closet. Before long, she was dressed and out the door, making her way to her car in order to complete a very important errand.
While returning to the maintenance workshop after an early morning repair, Meddy had a reason to become anxious: See spotted Allis standing near the doorway of the shop. Slowing her pace, Meddy prepared herself for a follow-up tough-lashing.
“I did it!” happily exclaimed Allis as Meddy slowly approached.
Guessing Allis had reunited with her boyfriend, Meddy forced a fake smile.
“I let go and took charge!” joyfully shared Allis, lifting an open box of chocolate bark while heading for Meddy. “It would be an honor to have you celebrate with me.”
Surprised and relieved, Meddy relaxed shoulders, then reached for a piece of the treat. “That’s wonderful news!”
“Finding the courage to turn a dreamboat into a dinghy is amazing,” shared Allis.
“It is; isn’t it?” said Meddy with a big grin.
“I hope we can be friends,” wished Allis.
“Me, too,” replied Meddy, opening arms to initiate a hug.
1. What makes rejection so hurtful?
2. How do people learn to want a dreamboat?
3. Meddy said she looks “for the nice in my life rather than the love of my life.” Why is or isn’t that good advice?
4. Why did the counselor ask Meddy the following question? “Are you starting to realize your dreamy dreamboat is a dreary dingy?”
5. Why should adults make sure kids thoroughly learn the difference between special and essential?