“But now not so much?”
He nods against me.
“You’re not broken. Having a panic attack or anxiety does not reflect your wholeness. You’re burned out, and that’s completely understandable. You push yourself more than anyone I’ve ever seen before, and it’s only natural for you to reach this point.”
He shakes his head. “No…I can’t. I should be able to handle it. I have to be able to handle it.”
“Says who?”
He doesn’t answer me. I pull away and frame his jaw with my hands to make him look at me. Even in the dark I can see his eyes are red and puffy, and he’s deeply embarrassed. He tries to turn his face away, but I don’t let him because I need him to know I’m not ashamed of this part of him. He’s probably never cried in front of anyone in his entire life, largely due to the culture he’s steeped in day in and day out that tells him his maleness is defined by his ability to remain impenetrable to emotions.
“Why do you have to handle it all, Nathan? Why won’t you let yourself rest?” I ask, looking deep into his eyes.
He squeezes them shut and tears roll out. “Because I don’t deserve to.”
“What?” I ask on an exhale.
“Bree, I’ve never had to work for anything in my life. Nothing! It’s all been handed to me. Catered to me. I wanted to work in high school, but my parents actually wouldn’t let me. Even my current position on the team is because it was handed to me. Daren, the man who rightfully earned his spot, got injured, and I took over after sitting on the bench for two years. Do you see? I’ve been given all of this success—so what do I have to complain about? What right do I have to be exhausted? None. I’m just a rich kid who was provided everything he ever needed and handed more money and more success on a silver platter.”
I had no idea he felt this way.
“So this is the reason you work yourself to death? Why you never say no to people? You’re trying to prove your worth?”
His eyes turn down again. “When I work hard, when I feel tired, it’s the only time I feel a little bit of the guilt in my chest lessen.” I want to speak to this, but he keeps going, new tears shaking his voice. “I’ve never had to go through hard things in my life. I’ve never known anything close to poverty or struggle or even just budgeting, for that matter. I have a chef, a driver, a manager, an agent—everything I could ever need, so tell me…what reason do I have to complain about any of it?”
Tears are streaming down his face, and the look in his eyes is anger mixed with defeat.
“What right do I have to resent it? To want to escape any part of it ever? No. I don’t deserve to get help for the anxiety I can’t escape. I don’t get to feel overworked. I need to keep my shit together and give as much of myself as I can, because otherwise everyone will see that I don’t deserve to be where I am.”
Nathan lets go of me to press his face into his hands. For a moment, I sit, stunned. I stare at this man I thought I knew better than anyone in the world and realize all along he’s been bottling up his feelings, his hurts, his anxiety and stress because he feels like he has to wear a cape to be a hero.
If he can bare all of this to me right now, I can do the same for him.
I pull his hands down from his eyes so I can look in them. “Listen to me. It is not the things you do that make you worthy, it’s that you have a beating heart in your chest. You have a soul, which means you are allowed to feel hurt, tired, stressed, sad, angry. All of those things—you are allowed to feel them. Everyone is.” I gather all of my strength for my next words. “Your ability to shoulder everything, to give 200% of yourself all the time, to be perfect at everything you attempt…these are not the attributes that make you a valuable human being.” I pause. “And they are not why I fell in love with you.”