Page 148 of Chosen Road

“We’ve got about fifteen minutes left. Would you like to put together a plan?”

“Yes,” I said firmly. Now that I finally understood the problem, I was ready to tackle it head on.

“Up until now we’ve been working on labeling feelings and identifying triggers. Have you found this to be helpful in determining your boundaries and coping with your emotions?”

“Very much so. I realized that I’m a vocal advocate for others but find it extraordinarily difficult to do it for myself.”

“Are you happy enough to keep up with that? The more you do it, the more you will learn about yourself. Eventually, it will no longer be necessary.”

“I’m good to keep doing that.”

“Have you been practicing trust with your husband?”

“Yes. I’ve done well with that. We’re in a better place than we’ve ever been.”

“Do you feel comfortable sharing your triggers with him?”

“Absolutely.” I nodded.

Laura sat back in her chair. “You’ve done so well with so little. I’d like to help you set up a few tools to facilitate communication when it’s uncomfortable. I’ll also teach you some tools to help you distract your brain when it’s triggered and temper your reactions to triggers.”

“That sounds great.”

“Okay! We’ll go over all of this in the next couple of weeks and then, if you keep up at the rate you’re going, I think you’ll probably be ready to go it alone. I suggest you pick up a journal for you and Gus to write to each other, for those times when speaking is too much work.”

“I can definitely do that.”

“The other suggestion I have is that you have a set time every day where you come together to discuss your day.”

“We already do that. At bedtime, we tell each other something good and something bad about our day, and that can include things we’re thinking about.”

“Perfect.”

In bed that night, Gus lay his hand in the space between us, and said, “Tell me one good thing.”

I slid my hand under his. “I told my therapist all about my mom and dad, as well as the past two years, and how everything made me feel. She and I have come up with a plan.”

When I brought up the two years, he didn’t flinch, and I breathed a sigh of relief that the issue with Jacqueline was finally behind us.

“Tell me about the plan.”

I circled the space between us. “This is important, this sharing. I need to continue to label my feelings and identify triggers, then share those with you.”

“That’s good.” He smiled encouragingly, nodding for me to continue.

“And I bought a journal for us to write to each other when it’s too difficult to say it out loud.”

He nodded and intertwined his fingers with mine. “Tell me something bad.”

“I called Mallory’s foster mother today to let her know Mallory’s regular appointment is available, but Mallory shut it down.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

“Me, too. I can pass along my knowledge, give her tools, show her the work that needs to be done, but she must show up. She must come to the point where she’s willing to do the work. I wanted to save her years of grief, but you can’t force someone to accept help.”

I went on. “The other thing I realized is that there are only so many hours in the day. There’s only so much I can do.”

“Why do you look so guilty?”

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