A few months into his mindfulness journey, Jake had begun to notice a subtle shift in his life. The outbursts were less frequent. The spirals, though still present, didn't pull him in quite so quickly. His relationship with Jules had grown steadier. His friendship with Emily was stronger than ever. For the first time in a long time, Jake felt like he had a foothold something solid beneath him. But healing wasn't linear. He'd heard Dr. Lane say that more than once. And still, when the cracks began to show again, Jake wasn't prepared for how much they would sting. One morning, his phone buzzed with a message from Jules: Hey, I'm going out with some friends tonight. Let's talk tomorrow? Simple. Casual. Innocent. But by the time Jake set his phone down, his stomach had already tightened into knots. It's fine, he told himself. Jules is allowed to have his own space. But as the day wore on, that rational voice got quieter. The silence between them felt louder. The fear started creeping in, wrapping around him like vines. What if he's avoiding me? What if this is the beginning of the end? By evening, Jake's thoughts were spiraling. The fear he thought he'd tamed roared back to life, and with it came the urge to do something, to reach out, to cling before he could be left again. He picked up his phone and, against his better judgment, sent a string of frantic messages: Why can't we talk tonight? Are you mad at me?
I just don't understand why you're being distant. Do you still want to be with me? The minutes stretched. Then an hour. Then another. Each moment of silence fed the storm inside him. It wasn't until close to midnight that his phone buzzed again. Jake, I care about you, but these messages… they're overwhelming. I need a little space to breathe, okay? The words hit like ice water. Jake felt his insides hollow out. The self-blame came quick, relentless. He'd ruined it. Again. The next morning, he barely spoke. At work, everything around him felt too loud and too quiet at the same time. The disappointment in himself was crushing. All the progress he thought he'd made....gone. By the time he arrived at Dr. Lane's office, he was bracing for judgment. For disappointment. Instead, she greeted him with the same steady calm that always made him feel safe. Jake sank into the couch and stared at the floor. "I messed up," he said quietly. "I let my fears take over, and I pushed Jules away again." Dr. Lane leaned forward slightly, her voice warm. "Jake, I know it feels like a step backward. But this? This moment where you see what happened and care about it? That's growth." Jake glanced up, unsure. "But it feels like I'm just… back where I started." "You're not," she said gently. "You're not reacting the same way. You're not avoiding it. You're here, reflecting on it. That's the work. Healing isn't about never slipping. It's about noticing when you do, and choosing how you come back from it." They spent the session tracing the spiral backward—looking at how Jules's message triggered the familiar ache of abandonment, how quickly his mind jumped to worst-case scenarios. It wasn't just about Jules. It was about the stories Jake's past had written into his nervous system—the belief that everyone leaves, that he has to fight to be kept. By the end of the session, the shame had loosened its grip. Jake still felt fragile, but he also felt aware. And that mattered. That night, he sat with his phone in his hands again. But this time, he didn't act out of panic. He thought. He breathed. He chose. Then he typed: Hey, I'm sorry for last night. I got scared and reacted without thinking. I'm working on it, and I appreciate your patience. He hit send. No spirals. Just honesty. Jules replied a few minutes later: Thank you, Jake. I know you're trying. I'm here for you. Jake let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. It wasn't perfect. But it was real. And that was enough. As he put the phone down and crawled into bed, a thought crossed his mind—not one of self-doubt, but of grace: Healing isn't about being flawless. It's about showing up,even after the fall.