Page 127 of Let’s Be Real

When I was unmedicated and undiagnosed, I saw signs in myself that reminded me of Louise, so I buried them as deep as I could. And, Sammie, I got good at hiding.

Nobody knew I was disappointed every morning when I woke up. I tried to wait it out, but the hopelessness was relentless. It would not leave me alone.

The night I’d tried to kill myself, Roman came home early.

For months after that, I’d wake up in the middle of the night, and he’d be standing in my doorway pretending he was getting water. It took a year for Roman to take his eyes off me. Even longer not to feel like he was on edge. I was on my best behavior so he could live his life without fear I’d end mine.

It worked for a long time. I took my meds, went back to classes, got a girlfriend. But I could never quite get the hang of life. Therapy would have helped a whole hell of a lot, but I was trying my damnedest to be “normal,” and normal people didn’t go to therapy.

The meds I was on for over a decade had left me so muted, when I’d tried to taper off, all the emotions they’d been keeping at bay came flooding in, and it had been all I could do to battle back the guilt, fear, paranoia, and anger every day.

This time, I wasn’t disappointed to wake up in the mornings. Not when you were there. It was the nights that got me. I was terrified to fall asleep and not be any better when I woke up.

I’m learning a lot about myself in therapy. I wish like hell I’d started this when I was younger, but it’s never too late as long as I’m breathing, right?

I don’t want to spend the rest of my life trying not to feel. When I leave here, I want to be ready to experience the full breadth of my emotions. The terrible days. The ordinary ones. The ones where I laugh until my stomach hurts. I have to feel the bad to finally experience the good the way everyone else does.

I’m working hard, Sammie.

I never want you to get to a place where you wish you’d never met me.

Yeah, I overheard Rosalie say that to you, and my brain latched on, deciding it was the only true statement in the room. I let myself forget everything you’d said after.

Thank you for saying it anyway.

I still don’t know if I deserve you, but I’m working on that too.

How lucky am I you’re being patient with me while I do?

Love you,

Nate

When I wrote him back, it wasn’t to tell him he wasn’t a burden. He knew where I stood. Where I would keep standing. Now, it was his job to make himself believe he was loved and wanted.

Instead, I wrote to him about Kelly. Not everything—just enough that he wouldn’t feel shut out. I still caught myself trimming off the sharp edges whenever I talked to him. Making my hurt smaller. Easier to carry.

Old habits die hard.

I couldn’t say I was at a place where I felt good about my decision, but I was certain it was right.

Nate replied quickly.

Sammie,

Proud of you.

Now that you’ve given me a very clinical explanation of what happened, why don’t you tell me how you’re feeling? Don’t hold back from me.

Remember, I’m not going to shatter.

Love you,

Nate

Adrian walked by me on his way to his office. When he spotted me digging the heel of my hand into my eye, he stopped in his tracks, frowning at me.

“What’s with the sourpuss?”