“Yes ma’am,” I said.
“Makes sense,” Alex added.
“Good.” Elena settled back in her chair. “Let’s start with daily functioning. Walk me through a typical day here. Who notices what?”
Alex glanced at me, then back at Elena. “I notice when he’s pushing too hard. The signs are subtle. He gets quieter, more focused on whatever task he’s doing. His jaw tightens. His responses are more measured and careful. He starts moving differently, favoring his right side when he’s tired or in pain.”
Accurate. All of it.
“And Finn, what do you notice about Alex?”
“When she’s overwhelmed, she reorganizes things. Straightens items, adjusts her clothes, finds something to control.” I traced my thumb across her knuckles. “Goes systematic—needs to process by creating order.”
“Do you tell each other when you’re struggling? When you notice yourself falling into these patterns?”
“Sometimes,” Alex said carefully. “More often lately than at first.”
“What stops you when you don’t?”
I shifted in my chair. “Not wanting to worry her. Especially when it’s something I should be able to handle myself.”
“And you, Alex?”
“Not wanting to add to his stress when he’s already managing so much.” She swallowed. “Or convincing myself I’m fine when I’m not.”
Elena made a note. “So you both have patterns of protecting each other by not being fully honest about your own struggles.”
“We’re working on it,” I defended.
“I can see that,” Elena’s voice stayed even. “But let’s dig into what ‘fine’ actually means for both of you. Alex, when you say you’re fine, what are you really communicating?”
“That I’ve got it handled. That I don’t need help. That whatever I’m feeling isn’t worth bothering anyone else with.”
“Is that true? That what you’re feeling isn’t worth addressing?”
“No. But it feels true in the moment. Like if I admit I’m struggling, everything will fall apart.”
“That’s your armor,” Elena observed. “The competence, the organization, the ‘I’ve got this’ presentation. It protects you from having to be vulnerable.”
“Yes,” Alex nodded, not looking ashamed despite the admission. My brave girl.
Elena turned to me. “And Finn, when you hide things from Alex—your pain levels, the injection situation, how hard you’re actually struggling—what are you protecting her from?”
My jaw tightened automatically. “From seeing how broken I am. From having another thing to worry about when she’s already dealing with her own situation.”
“But she’s choosing to be here. Choosing you, knowing you’re dealing with trauma and medical complications.” Elena leaned forward slightly. “When you hide those things, you’re making decisions for her about what she can handle instead of trusting her to make that choice herself.”
“I know,” I couldn’t look at either of them. “Logically I know that. But the instinct is still there. Protect her, don’t be a burden, handle it myself.”
“Because if you’re not useful, what’s the point?”
I stiffened.
“Yeah.”
“And Alex, when you organize and systematize and convince yourself you’re fine, you’re doing the same thing. Proving your value through productivity and competence instead of justexisting and being enough.”
“We talked about this,” she sighed, glancing at me. “How we’re both terrible at believing we’re enough just as we are.”
