Page 148 of Breathe Again

He snorted. “You use the term too loosely, I think.”

She laughed, as he hoped she would. He held out his arm to rest it around her shoulders and she nestled into his side.

“I’m sorry, Willa, I never realized how bad she could be.”

At forty-seven, Zale had fifteen years on Willa, Willa well knew he was old enough to be her father, and he fulfilled that role, as well as that of a beloved, protective, older brother, in her life. She loved him and he loved her right back. She was important to him, but he was crucial to her.

“Ah, you got a taste of Bea in a snit. Are you on the shit list now too?”

He squeezed her around her shoulders. “That’s okay, the best company is on that list.”

They went back into the house, Willa headed back to the kitchen to order pizza, and he flaked out on top of the tangled sheets on his freshly fucked-in bed until the time came to get Olivia into bed and drive Willa and Bex home.

Mara was sleeping deeply when he got back. He quickly added that day’s song to their playlist and slid into their bed, dragging his wife into his arms where she remained until morning.

Pain in my Ass

Mara

The past few days with Zale had been sweet. He was my safe place, my healing place, and my peace. He always had been. He had always pulled me back in, set me back on track, and soothed the ache within.

Over the past year, when things suddenly changed, I’d lost my coping mechanism, which uncovered the illness I had been mostly able to repress up until that point. So many truths were coming to light, including how heavily Ileaned on him.

In hashing things out with Erin I began to understand that my inner dialogue voiced a bundle of fears and lies that only I could alter. Even though most of the lies centered around Zale’s feelings for me, he could do nothing to change my inner narrative or convince me otherwise.

There were a couple of reasons I clung to the lies. Self-protection being one of them. My heart was in the business of mitigating risk, and that meant entertaining all tips and theories, discarding none.

Fearful, always, of him wanting someone else, or leaving me, I was forever mentally preparing myself for that eventuality. If I believed in his love and then he left? I believed I’d be destroyed.

Erin was slowly leading me to see the risk I was presently taking by allowing the lie. Being forever wound up and in a constant state of fear and vigilance took its toll on my mental health, and eventually, the heightened stress affected my physical health as well.

I started thinking in terms of risk assessment. Every action had a consequence, every inaction had a consequence. I’d been focusing so hard on not being taken by surprise that I’d failed to assess the risks of my chosen track.

Erin also challenged my belief that I’d be destroyed if Zale ever left. I found that harder to believe, but perhaps I could get there, too. Especially now that I was learning to be my own peace.

Of course, the fact that my disbelief hurt Zale also motivated me toward change.

A second factor supporting the lies was low self-esteem, which is par for the course for anyone with an unstable sense of identity. Here I could make an impact and build a solid foundation for myself. Who knew what the consequences might be if I started feeling better about myself apart from anyone else’s feelings or opinions?

Lastly, the diagnosis of Borderline Personality issues clarified to me that most of the problems in our relationship were due to my condition. He’d never given me a reason not to trust him, yet I didn’t. This hurt us both. He deserved my trust.

In moments of lucidity, I could see this. All of it. However, the illness, when woken, was such that the times of clarity were candle wicks briefly lit and soon snuffed out by the darkness of fear and self-hatred. It was a burden for both of us, but only I could do the work to see where it might lead.

It angered Zale when I spoke about being a burden, but in my mind, and in truth, it was a part of our reality.

All of this came out in Erin’s office.

“I hate that you refer to yourself as a burden. You’re not a burden, you are my life.”

Zale sat leaning forward, elbows on his spread thighs, his linked hands hanging between his knees, his frustration unmasked.

“It is a burden! Saying it’s not, is just refusing to look at the reality!” I countered.

“It is a burden, you are not. Just like my long work hours are a burden, my lack of verbal communication, Olivia’s meltdowns and sensitivities, my stubbornness.... We all have stuff, and I’m not downplaying the seriousness of yours, but would you ever refer to Olivia as a burden?”

“No!” My voice rose and so did his.

“Well, why is it okay to refer to yourself like that?”

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