Atlas isn't cured of his mental illness.
He never will be, but he has a complete handle on it—he keeps up with his therapy, he even had his parents, Silas, and me join one session with Dr. Wilson where they were able to talk about Carrie's death, the suicide attempt, and Atlas withdrawing into himself.
Lot of tears and hugs through that session and we came out on the other side stronger than ever.
Atlas is right, there are no villains here, and we always need to remember that.
Dr. D'Amore always says to look at issues that come up in our marriage not asAtlas vs. Me,but asUs vs. the issue.
When you frame it like that, you feel unstoppable. My husband is the strongest man I've ever met, and I'm so fortunate to have him on my team, fighting his way back to us.
And I'll always fight my way back to him.
Always.
"Alright, I see you making cow eyes at each other," Dr. D'Amore chuckles, causing Atlas and me to realize that we've been staring at each other for God knows how long.
I feel my cheeks flush, but Atlas just shrugs, pleased withhimself. "I'm going to actually recommend dropping these to once a month. We've made incredible progress; you guys are doing the work at home."
"Thanks, Doc," Atlas smiles, glancing at me and seeing my nod of approval. "That would be great."
"Get out of here," she says with a broad smile, and Atlas stands before helping me as well.
I don't need to use my walker and cane anymore, when I know I'm walking a short distance, but my hip still aches when I sit for too long.
Isn't that funny? I can't stand for too long without my hip aching, and I can't sit for too long without my hip aching.
Dr. King said at my last check-in that the pain should fade over time.Ain't that the damn truth.
Atlas wraps an arm around my waist, just cause, and guides us out of the office to the parking lot. It's a warm October day, the sun just starting to set.
Atlas glances down at his phone when it buzzes, a smile spreading across his face that he tries to hide. He quickly types something back and then puts his phone back in his pocket.
"What?" I laugh, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Can I take you somewhere?"
"And where's that?"
"Our spot."
"Lead the way, Mr. Durant," I say, and then squeal when Atlas sweeps me up in his arms and bridal carries me to the truck. "Atlas!"
"What?" Atlas grunts, shrugging his shoulders even while carrying me.Show off."Daylight's burning, baby."
"You calling me slow?"
"I'm calling you precious," Atlas says, grinning mischievously. "Too precious to walk... and yes, maybe a little slow."
I give a haughty gasp, "How dare you—"
My protest is killed by his lips on mine.
???
"Is that…?"
Atlas waves to his Dad, who's grinning from the driver's seat of his truck as he passes us. I frown as we make our way up to our overlook, and then smile when I see our silly boys waving to us.
