Shattered but Strong

Chapter 1

The kitchen felt unnervingly still as Jesse stepped inside, the familiar sounds of simmering sauce and the comforting scent of freshly baked bread only serving to highlight the turbulence inside him. He had just come from his appointment, where the doctor had confirmed something he’d suspected for a long time but couldn’t articulate: Borderline Personality Disorder. The words echoed in his mind, relentless, like a puzzle whose pieces refused to fit together.

As he entered the room, he saw his family scattered about. Dom was at the stove, stirring marinara sauce, while Vince and Letty sat at the table, heads bent over what was left of lunch. Leon and Mia perched on the counter, sharing a laugh, but it all faded the moment Jesse walked in. The laughter died, and a heavy silence settled in, thick with unspoken questions and the weight of understanding.

Brian entered from the patio, the door clicking shut behind him. Jesse’s pulse quickened just seeing him. Brian had always been the anchor—steady, grounded. But today, his calm was different, holding something Jesse couldn’t quite place, a quiet kind of understanding that seemed to be reaching out to him.

Without a word, Brian walked over and handed Jesse a brand-new sketchbook. “Here, man,” he said gently, his eyes searching Jesse’s face, trying to gauge his reaction. “When it all gets to be too much, just…put it here.” He tapped the cover lightly, offering Jesse something tangible to hold onto.

Jesse stared at the blank pages, the weight of them pressing down on him. The clean, untouched sheets were both an invitation and a challenge, a space where he could pour out his confusion, his chaos. He ran his fingers over the cover, and for a moment, something stirred within him—fear, uncertainty, but also the faintest glimmer of hope.

Dom turned off the stove and wiped his hands on a towel before stepping closer. “Jesse, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice calm but his eyes betraying the worry lurking beneath the surface. “We heard you talking with Brian outside.”

Jesse swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. He glanced at Brian, who gave him a subtle nod of encouragement, before turning back to face the room. “I… I got diagnosed with BPD,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air, fragile and raw. For a moment, he thought maybe they hadn’t heard him. The room was so silent, as if everyone was afraid to breathe, afraid to break the delicate moment.

Brian stepped closer, his voice soft but firm. “You’re not alone in this, Jesse. You know that, right?”

Jesse nodded shakily. “I don’t even know what it means yet,” he admitted, his chest tightening. “I just know it feels like I’m losing control.”

Brian’s gaze softened even further, his expression full of quiet empathy. “Yeah,” he murmured, his tone laced with understanding. “I get that. I’ve been on meds since I was 17, went through therapy. It’s not easy. But you learn to cope. One day at a time.”

The sincerity in Brian’s voice resonated with Jesse, both comforting and unsettling. He could feel the support, but there was also an undercurrent of uncertainty, which somehow made the reality of it all feel more real, more terrifying. He glanced around at the faces of his family, each one marked by concern, by a desire to understand.

Dom broke the silence, his voice a little rough. “Brian… why didn’t you ever say anything?” There was a quiet hurt in his words, though his eyes remained kind.

Brian turned away for a moment, clearing his throat. “It’s… not easy to talk about.” His gaze flicked back to Jesse, offering him a small but genuine smile. “But if you ever need someone who gets it—” He shrugged, offering Jesse a silent promise. “I’m here.”

Jesse felt a wave of gratitude, but underneath it, a gnawing anxiety began to rise. His heart pounded as his thoughts raced. The fear of being misunderstood, of what his family would think, tightened around his chest. He struggled to articulate the feelings swirling inside him.

“It’s like…” he began, his voice faltering as he tried to put it into words. “Like I’m on a rollercoaster with no seatbelt. One minute, I’m fine, and then—” He shook his head, unable to finish the thought. “And then it just… crashes.”

Mia, who had been quietly observing, leaned in slightly, her voice gentle and cautious. “Do you… do you feel like it’s hard to stay in control?”

“Yeah,” Jesse whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Sometimes, it’s like everything is just too much. All at once.” He looked down, his face flushed with embarrassment. “I just don’t want to be like this. I just want to be… normal.”

Dom stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on Jesse’s shoulder. His grip was warm, grounding. “You are normal, Jess. This diagnosis doesn’t change who you are.” He looked toward Brian, giving him a nod of understanding. “And neither does anything Brian’s been through. We’re family. We’ll get through this together.”

Jesse felt a flicker of relief, his voice still shaky when he spoke. “But what if I can’t manage?”

“You can,” Brian said, his voice calm but resolute. “It takes time. And it’s okay to have days where you don’t feel okay. Just remember—you’re not alone.”

Vince piped up, a playful half-smile tugging at his lips. “Or draw,” he suggested, gesturing to the sketchbook. “I mean, sketchbooks are the new therapy, right? And hey, you could always draw while eating pasta.” He waved a hand toward the stove in a mock flourish.

A small laugh escaped Jesse, the sound unfamiliar but welcomed. “Yeah, because that’ll keep the pages clean,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Letty glanced from Jesse to Brian, her smile soft and approving. “Brian, you’re good at this. You know, bringing people together.”

Dom grinned, nudging Brian playfully. “Or breaking them up,” he teased, earning a roll of the eyes from Brian. “Seriously though, man, I’m proud of you. Both of you.”

Brian shifted uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. “I just… try to be there. For everyone. That’s what family is.”

Slowly, the tension in the room began to dissolve, and conversation shifted to lighter topics—the weekend plans, dinner details, small life updates. The weight on Jesse’s chest lightened, just a bit, replaced by a warmth he hadn’t expected. The diagnosis still loomed over him, a constant presence, but so was his family. And in that moment, that made all the difference.

Later, as the others cleaned up, Jesse looked down at the sketchbook in his hands. The blank pages still felt daunting, but maybe, just maybe, he could fill them—one line at a time.

“Thanks for this, Bri,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as he met Brian’s gaze. “Really.”

Brian’s smile was soft, his expression full of understanding. “Anytime, man. Just remember—you’re not alone.”