The following week, Jake arrived at Dr. Lane's office, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and fear. He was beginning to realize that he's patterns of thinking and reacting weren't just habits; they were parts of him that needed understanding and healing. He's conversation with Jules had left him feeling hopeful, but also raw, like a wound had been exposed. Dr. Lane greeted him with a warm smile, inviting him to settle into the familiar chair across from her.
"So, how have you been since our last session?" she asked gently, watching him closely.
Jake hesitated, feeling the weight of everything he wanted to say. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke. "I've been… trying. I'm starting to see some things more clearly. Like how I push people away even when I don't want to. It's like… I'm afraid they'll leave, so I end things first." Dr. Lane nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Fear of abandonment is common in people who experience borderline personality disorder. It's often tied to past traumas, experiences that taught you that love and support weren't permanent." The word trauma hung in the air, and Jake felt a pang of resistance. He wanted to dismiss it, to claim he didn't have anything as severe as trauma. But memories stirred beneath the surface: fragmented moments from he's childhood, times when he felt unseen, unheard, or abandoned. "What kind of trauma?" he asked hesitantly, as if afraid of the answer. "It varies for everyone," Dr. Lane explained. "For some, it's rooted in early relationships with caregivers. If a child doesn't feel securely attached, or if they experience instability, they might grow up associating love with uncertainty. And that fear can carry into adult relationships." Jake nodded slowly, he's heart heavy. He could remember instances with he's parents—times when they'd been present but emotionally distant, or times when he'd been left to deal with her own emotions without any guidance. Those feelings had followed him, even when he tried to leave them behind. "I always feel like… like I'm too much," he admitted, he's voice barely a whisper. "And I worry that people will get tired of me." Dr. Lane leaned forward slightly, her gaze steady and compassionate. "Jake, you're not 'too much.' Your emotions are intense, but that doesn't make you unworthy of love or support. Emotions are part of being human, and learning to manage them, rather than suppress them, can help you find more balance in your relationships." Jake felt a knot of emotion rising in he's chest. He'd spent so long trying to deny or hide he's emotions, convinced they were what made him unlovable. But Dr. Lane's words offered a glimmer of an alternative—one where he didn't have to be ashamed of what he felt. "So… what do I do with them?" he asked, almost desperate for an answer. Dr. Lane gave a gentle smile. "One technique we can try is mindfulness. It's about observing your emotions without judgment, allowing yourself to feel them fully but not being controlled by them. I can teach you exercises that help you stay grounded, even in moments of intense emotion." Mindfulness. The idea sounded foreign, almost impossible. How could he possibly observe he's emotions without reacting to them? But something in Dr. Lane's tone reassured him, made him feel like maybe it was worth a try. "I'll try," he said finally, the words both a promise and a challenge to herself. Dr. Lane nodded. "It'll take practice, and it won't always be easy. But remember, this isn't about changing who you are. It's about learning to understand yourself, so you can make choices that align with the life you want." As the session ended, Jake left Dr. Lane's office feeling both overwhelmed and strangely empowered. For the first time, he wasn't being asked to suppress he's emotions, to force them into a neat box that didn't fit. Instead, he was being encouraged to explore them, to understand them. That night, as he sat on he's bed, he tried he's first mindfulness exercise. He closed he's eyes, took a deep breath, and let himself feel whatever was lurking beneath the surface—sadness, loneliness, even a flicker of anger. The emotions felt sharp, intense, but he didn't push them away. He breathed, reminding herself that they were part of him, but they didn't have to define him. And as he sat there, embracing the messiness of his own heart, Jake felt a small but undeniable sense of peace.