Page 48 of This Side of Beautiful

“Well, IknowI like him.” I bit my lip.

“If Landon wants to take it slow, he’s doing it for a reason.”

The silence grew between us as I pushed off the comforter and stared at the ceiling.

“Janae?”

“I’m still here. Should I walk away from him before we go deeper?” Hurt added to the heaviness slowly creeping back into my body.

“Do you think you can walk away from him?”

“No,” I answered.

“Then continue doing the work to have the type of relationship you hope to have and it’ll take work. Open and honest communication.”

“He’s worth it.”

“And never forget you are too,” Dr. K added.

“Thank you. Sometimes, I get stuck in my head and only believe the negative, no matter how good I have it.” I scanned the large bedroom with a balcony and bathroom bigger than the bedroom I grew up in. “Like the fact that I haven’t worked in three years and still have a bank account that affords me more than what most people can buy. And more days than not, I’m sad and alone.”

“Have you reconsidered Del’s idea that you use the reality show to tell the world about your diagnosis or speak at that mental health fundraiser? Do you know how many people you could help? More importantly, it’s going to help you.”

I started rocking again. “I don’t know if I’m ready for the backlash. No matter what I post, people have an opinion. They’ll think it’s just a cop-out for my bad behavior. No one believed Simone Biles when she said she couldn’t perform and needed therapy. André 3000 barely performs anymore, and no one wants to hear he’s protecting his mental health.”

Dr. K countered, “They also had supporters, and the more that people who have a voice as big as yours use their platform to advocate for mental health, the more society will accept people who have bipolar, just like anyone who has high blood pressure or cancer.”

“I don’t know. I’m barely hanging on with Cedrick, and he might write me off as a liability if I start telling the world I have bipolar.” I rubbed the burning in my chest. “And what if Landon can’t accept it?”

“We don’t know how anyone will handle any of this, but you wanted to be honest in everything that you do. It’s a part of your healing. And hiding a big part of your struggles is a step backward.”

“It’s not fair. It’s so un-fucking-fair.” I raised my voice, and my hand holding the phone trembled. “I don’t even remember what my father looks like, my mother hates me, and my brother is too caught up in his world to bother with me. Started using drugs young to escape the pain of having no one. And I get to spend the rest of my life dealing with shit most people never have to deal with. What man is going to love me when they know? Huh?”

“Shh… shh… Janae, please calm down. I didn’t mean to upset you. Breathe in and breathe out. Come on, Janae. Breathe with me.”

I closed my eyes and did as I was instructed repeatedly as I tried to hear Dr. K over my own negative mind.

“It’s not your fault,” she reminded me. “Bipolar disorder isn’t just feeling good or bad. It’s your brain pushing you too far in either direction. The goal isn’t to erase emotions, but to keep them from running you into the ground.

She paused, giving me space to absorb that. “You are not alone in this. I’m here with you, and you are so much more than whatever those thoughts are telling you. You’re beautiful, smart, strong, and capable of fighting whatever comes your way. Your career is moving faster than you believed. You haven’t relapsed in over a month. This is only a slight valley. The hill is right there.”

The heaviness started to lift as she reminded me of what I knew on my good days. But the dark… the dark. I couldn’t win.

“Breathe, Janae. Relax your mind. We can complain about how life is unfair or focus on what is fair. Your choice. You made the decision to be sober and not take meds, so that means you have to push harder through those demons to see the light. You can’t give up on yourself. You, and only you, have to keep fighting.”

I sobbed. “I’m tired.”

“Open your eyes. Look around the room. Tell me what you see.”

I struggled to open my eyes, and I squinted in front of me. “A TV.”

“Is it on?”

“No.”

“Turn it on.”

I searched for the remote, and it was on the marble table beside the bed. “I found it.”

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