Nate Part 2

I think, after me, the one most about to have a heart attack from anxiety is her friend Ana. And she actually looks pretty good in her red jumpsuit and all. She's a beautiful girl, but Isabela is infinitely more stunning. My girl is so perfect that every woman, no matter how beautiful, pales in comparison to her.
I’m the only guy dressed more formally at this table. I’m wearing a white dress shirt that Isa picked out for me, along with dark jeans, which she also insisted I wear. Damn, I could’ve thrown on my Guns N' Roses shirt since everyone else is dressed for a show. It would’ve been way more comfortable, and I’m starting to sweat like a pig on a spit, I’m so nervous.
“Seriously, what’s taking so long?” Hellen complains, after fanning herself with a black fan for what feels like ages. She sets the thing down on the table next to her bag. I call that thing a wallet, but Isabela says it’s a purse. The old lady lights a cigarette. Didn’t Isa say she quit smoking? Ana looks at my “mother-in-law,” wide-eyed as she watches the extremely elegant woman in her flared black dress exhaling smoke through her nose. Surely the smell will cling to her neatly pinned red hair. “Oh, darling, don’t look at me like that! It’s the first time I’ll see my granddaughter perform. My nerves are killing me. By the way, does anyone have a joint? It would help me chill out even more.”
I cough out a laugh. Everyone at the table stares at Isabela's grandmother. Bianca rolls her eyes, drinking from a can of beer. Harry opens his mouth, laughing loudly and exaggeratedly, which makes everyone finally release the laughter they’ve been holding back.
“Damn, Isa’s grandma is a pothead,” he says, as Ana tries to smack his arm in retaliation, but even she can’t contain her own laughter.
“Drink up; maybe it’ll help you relax!” Bia hands the can to Hellen, who chuckles at Harry’s comment.
There’s a bucket full of beer at our table, but I’m so on edge that I refuse when Josiah offers me a can. I feel like a kid, trembling all over because I’m about to witness the most important moment of my love’s life.
“I get it, man. When my wife launched her first book, my legs were shaking like crazy. I think I was more nervous than she was,” Jow says, lighting a cigarette.
Now our table looks like a designated smoking area. Not wanting to disappoint anyone, I take the chance and light up as well. I exhale the smoke slowly, feeling a slight wave of calm wash over me.
“Shit, at this rate, my lungs are gonna be ruined because of you guys!” Bia rolls her eyes, filling a plastic cup with beer and then handing it to Ana.
“Damn, if it were just my leg shaking, I’d be doing great. I’m about to have a panic attack!” I confess to Jow, taking a drag from my cigarette while staring at him.
He’s the only one who treated me decently among this group of Isa’s friends when we met a little while ago to watch the show. Ana clearly hates me, and it’ll take a while to win her over. But I’m determined to try because she’s like a sister to my girl. I don’t want her to hate me. Harry is only holding back on the insults because that same woman put him in line.
At least I see these people care about Isabela; they want to protect my girl. They seem to love her. And anyone who cares for her enough earns extra points in my book.
It’s been weeks since I’ve felt like I’m walking on clouds. I thought this side of life didn’t even exist: happy, peaceful, and serene. I wake up every day with Little Sun curled up in front of me, spooning with me. Our whole room smells like her, and fur... from our kitty.
She wanted to leave Belladonna with Hellen, but I asked her to bring the cat back because I missed her. She’s such a cute, lovable little furball! I adore the softness of her fur and the way she welcomes me at the end of the day, always meowing and rubbing against my legs. I’ve noticed she’s manipulative, too; she loves making Isa jealous. She’ll run away from her owner and come to me whenever she wants to see her “mommy” all mad. Sometimes I wake up with the cat sprawled on my belly, as if I’m her favorite bed. The only thing I hate is that I’ve become her favorite target for face slaps, even if her little paw barely tickles.
Everything has been so perfect that I push my head away from the intrusive thoughts that come out of nowhere, believing that at any moment I could lose all this: the woman I love, our kitty, this new life that’s too good to be true for me.
I went to my first session with my therapist this week. He focused on listening to my life story, and it ended up being a two-hour session. The good thing about therapy is that I can learn to have better control over my emotions and understand the aspects of my disorder. That’s what he said we’ll focus on more. The downside is that instead of feeling lighter like many people say they do after sessions, I got back to the room, lay on Isabela’s chest, and cried like a newborn. I just... broke down. I know that with each passing session, as I build more trust with José, therapy with him will improve my self-awareness and the way things hit me. But that first time was hard. I relived many heavy emotions, but I also managed to reframe others. The road is long, you know? But he told me it’s possible to live in a less painful way if I fully commit to treatment and therapy.
My disorder has no cure. When I started to understand it over the years, that was what terrified me the most. Depression can be cured, generalized anxiety can go into complete remission. But Borderline Personality Disorder is a lifelong condition. I’ve read studies about patients who, with time and aging, experienced total improvement in their symptoms. But that’s not what I heard from my doctor. He said the only thing he believes in is adherence to treatment: a triad of healthy living, medication, and psychological treatment. But even if there’s no cure, it’s still possible to control the symptoms that cause the most harm and better understand my emotions.