The lie came easily but tasted bitter on my tongue.
Peggy sat on her chair across from me, tablet balanced on her knee, the same calm expression I’d been seeing every few monthsfor the past five years, except today I hated it. Her office was designed to be calming with soft lighting, muted colors, a white noise machine humming quietly in the corner. In this moment it felt like being trapped in a beige coffin.
“So,” she began, stylus poised over her tablet. “Tabitha mentioned you’ve had a difficult week.”
“Tabitha has opinions about everything,” I muttered, sitting back on the sofa and crossing my arms. “She thinks because I had one moment where a printer made me lose my shit, suddenly I’m falling apart.”
“Tell me about the printer.”
“It jammed. I may have... reacted poorly,” I shifted, the leather creaking. “But honestly, everything’s been stupid lately. Finn left for Wyoming and suddenly he can barely manage complete sentences when he texts me back. If he texts me back. I’m talking three-word responses after weeks of actual conversations. Meanwhile, I’m dealing with this situation at work where one of my directors has been acting shady as hell, accessing files he shouldn’t be touching, staying late when he normally leaves at five on the dot. And Enzo wants my opinion on table-scapes.”
Peggy made a note. “How has Finn’s communication change affected you?”
“It’s annoying,” I said quickly. “I mean, he basically told my mom off when she kept pressing about children after my nieces’ dance recital and then he just... just went all distant and deflective, and flew off to deal with whatever family thing came up without explaining anything. I mean, did I do something wrong? Or is this just him taking cover while he figures out how to extract himself from having to put up with me or my family anymore?”
“And the work situation?”
“Jordan. My dev director. My brother and Casey have been tracking weird system access patterns, late-night file transfers, database queries that don’t match his normal work. The only thing he talks about is mother-loving Titan Games and howamazing they are while Titan keeps sending acquisition offers that read more like threats while not-so-subtly pulling work from us and canceling project contracts. Plus, my mother’s been calling nonstop about the dance recital thing because apparently, I was ‘over-dramatic’ for calling her out on her shit when she made comments about my age and life choices in front of Finn. Heaven forbid she recognize what I’ve spent the last seven years building. What I’ve poured my soul into. My creation that has fifty-three hearts beating inside,” the words tumbled out faster than I’d intended. “Which, by the way, was completely inappropriate on her end and I was sick of it, but somehow I’m the problem for having feelings about it.”
“And the wedding?”
“Actually, wedding stuff is not so bad.”
“Regardless, it sounds like you’re managing several
stressors simultaneously.”
“Managing,” I huffed. “Sure. Okay, but I mean you know how it gets… maybe I’ve been working late. And maybe I forgot to eat a few times. And maybe I haven’t been sleeping great because my brain won’t stop cataloging every possible reason why Finn’s being weird and every suspicious thing Jordan’s been doing and how I’m going to keep control of my company when Oliver leaves. But that’s just how my brain works when there’s a lot going on. I think I’d have better luck stopping a freight train.”
“When you say ‘a few times,’ how often are we talking about missing meals?”
“I don’t know. A few days? Tabitha’s been bringing me food, so it’s not like I’m starving. And I have some protein shakes in my fridge at home,” I waved my hand dismissively. “And before you ask, I’m still taking my meds. Same time every day, just like always. But I don’t think they’re actually working.”
“Alex,” Peggy set her tablet aside, leaning forward slightly. “When did you last sleep more than four hours in a night?”
The question caught me off guard. “I... what does that have to do with anything?”
“Answer the question.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. When had I last slept well? “I don’t know. Maybe two weeks? Or three? It’s hard to tell when you spend your life not really sleeping anyway.”
“And you’re eating irregularly, working excessive hours, experiencing increased anxiety and obsessive thoughts,” she spoke objectively, like she was reading a checklist. “Your medication works best when your body is functioning within normal parameters. Sleep, nutrition, stress management—these aren’t optional extras.”
“Okay, so I’ll sleep more. I’ll eat lunch. Problem solved.”
“It’s not that simple,” Peggy’s gentle authority made my stomach drop. “Alex, your current lifestyle is undermining your medication’s effectiveness. We need to make some immediate changes, and we’re going to need adjust your treatment plan.”
“Adjust how?”
“Taper you off your current medications until you can demonstrate sustained healthy habits. Sleep schedule, regular meals, stress management. Your brain can’t regulate properly when your body is in constant crisis mode. Your body can’t regulate and flush your system when you’re not taking care of it. You are quite literally breaking down mentally and physically.”
The words hit me like cold water. “You want to take me off my meds because I’ve had a bad couple of weeks?”Months, Alex.
“I want to protect your long-term health. Alex, what you’re doing isn’t sustainable. And if you can’t make the lifestyle changes necessary to support your treatment, then we need to find alternatives that don’t require the same level of physical stability.”
My hands started to shake. Going off my meds meant going back to the scattered, chaotic, rage-fueled person I’d been before diagnosis. The person who couldn’t focus, couldn’t stop focusing, couldn’t organize, couldn’t stop organizing… couldn’t function at the level I needed to run my company.
“How long?”
