I leave my house at 8am and grab a Starbuck’s for the long and boring drive into the city. a drive filled with big trucks that try to penetrate my ass. a drive filled with hypomanic ants weaving in and out of traffic trying to make it to their shitty low paying jobs that bosses with shitty suits control them and empower them at the same time. a vicious combination that leads to frustration, despondency, and ultimately sitting on the shitty couch watching shitty tv while drinking shitty beer. the good news is that change is available for those who choose. some do. many don’t. then they pass this dull behaviour down to their kids and then they pass this behaviour down to their kids. life?
I eventually make it down to the city. to my doctor’s office. my adhd doctor. my first appointment with her. I sit in the waiting room and think about my wife. my daughter. never ending battles and never ending solutions. just another struggle to add to my already struggling life. struggling wife. struggling and awful one minute and then beautiful and loving the next. is this me? is this her? is this the both of us? is this her parents fault? my parents fault? and will we pass all of this excess shit and stress down to Rylee. she doesn’t deserve any of it. kids are born into this world so free. so innocent. so curious. so real and so loving. so trusting. and then we fuck them up. why? I want answers. I want answers now before we fuck her up for good. sad.
Dr. Hamidi opens her office door and welcomes me into her office. she is pretty. she is attractive. so much beauty in this world but the rules tell us to NOT acknowledge it. FUCK THE RULES. ALWAYS. FUCK THE RULES.
“please take a seat.” she politely tells me.
I take a seat and begin talking. we first start on why I am there. then we talk about how and where I was diagnosed. we then discuss my current marital status. my current employment status. all of the typical first date bullshit. I was edgy but calm. a constant battle within myself. too many battles and not enough victories. life? life? life? LIVE LIFE TO IT’S FULLEST???
we, or rather I, continue to talk about ME. my favourite topic. I hide nothing as I have been seeing psychiatrists, psychologists, therapists, and psychotherapists my whole life. some good. some bad. some effective. many not. is that me? them? a combination of me and them. is this my Mom’s fault? my Dad’s? god’s? is there a god? if there is he NEVER answers my prayers.
anyway, I continue to talk. Dr. Hamidi asks me to discuss my early childhood. where I was born. my upbringing. early school years. parents. siblings.
I began to speak and as I spoke the memories were so clear. so vivid. I miss my childhood. my friends. my teachers. sports. the victories. the losses. so young. so free. so alive. the doctor was engaged. listening. it was a clear description of my youth. I was focused. clear. breathing. then BOOM. the tears began to flow and flow and flow as I discussed the night that my Dad did not come home. the night that changed my life forever. the night that changed my family’s life forever. the night he lay face down on the gym floor while kids watched in shock. horror. what seemed like a prank by a man that was filled with pranks. filled with life. WAS NOT A PRANK. he was dead. brain hemorrhage. FEBRUARY 17, 1978. THIRTY-SIX YEARS OLD. GONE. FOREVER.
I cried and cried but the doctor encouraged me to keep going. I kept going. I discussed my Nana dying a month later. another loss. then I discussed the day that Dom and I came home from school to find an ambulance parked in our driveway. Dom and I ran inside the house. terrified. terrified. always terrified for the worst. we ran upstairs to find the bathroom door locked with my Mom inside. collapsed. too many pills. her friend, Annie, by her side. trying to help. the paramedics trying to calm me down. Dom down. trying to revive my Mom. we sat and hoped for the best. tears flowing more than ever. Dr. Hamidi encouraged me to keep going. she looked concerned. empathetic. loving.
“wow…these memories are very vivid for you. very present.” she said.
“yes…(crying…crying…crying). yes they are.”
the tears subsided as I then discussed the aftermath. my Mom taken away from us for a month. the never ending barrage of babysitters. the continued support of great friends and great family members.
the talk then turned to high school where I was filled with anxiety and fears on the inside but seemingly full of bravado and confidence on the outside. I spoke about bullies and girls. sports and failed grades.
we discussed my introduction to booze and how much of a saviour and game changer it was for me. how I instantly felt confident again. great again. the center of attention again. my anxiety was instantly cured. but, as always, the good turns to bad very quickly and what was once a saviour soon became my nemesis. blackouts and reckless behaviour on the weekends would lead to angst ridden Mondays where I hid from everyone and everything. the ying and yang of my life. soooooooo good and yet soooooo bad. but this did not stop me. I continued my reckless behaviour. fun times. crazy times. unpredictable times. center of attention. still popular. still great in sports. a chameleon of epic proportions. I could change my behaviour to match the situation. if I hung out with the ‘stoners” then I was a “stoner.” If I hung with the “preppies” then I was a “preppie.” if I hung with the “jocks” then I was a “jock.” it made life easier. I was accepted. loved.
BOOM.
hitchhiking home one night after lining up all night to get Bruce Springsteen tickets I was picked up by an old Greek man. he asked where I lived and he drove me home. but not before rubbing my penis. pulling my penis out of my Ocean Pacific boardshorts and stroking my penis. instant ejaculation and then instant anger on his part. instant SHAME on my part.
the doctor was shocked. mesmorized. I continued.
the next few years of my life were filled with fights. drunken nights. arrests. fucking girls. and fucking girls. and fucking girls. the more the merrier. I needed to prove to myself that I wasn’t gay so I needed to fuck. and fuck I did. at the time I thought that this was normal behaviour. I thought that I was a horny young man that was good with women.
pause.
Dr. Hamidi took a deep breath. she looked at me with such empathy and love that I began to cry again. I cried. and cried. and cried. “WHY? WHY HAS MY LIFE BEEN SO MESSED UP? I HAVE BEEN SEEING PSYCHIATRISTS FOR THIRTY YEARS AND NO CHANGE. NO RESULTS. WHY?”
I cried.
I cried.
I cried.
she gave me Kleenex and she gave me love. real love.
“everything is so real for you. so clear.”
“yes…that is why I can’t stand our society filled with such phoniness. such fluff. why do we have such fluffy stories on tv and fluffy movies? I HATE IT!!!”
I continued to cry. first appointment. first date. first start to the rest of my life…again. there is always the first start to my life…again. I hope this ends better than the last first starts.
hope.
hope.
hope.
LOVE.
LOVE.
LOVE.
I have a second date this Wednesday.
notanotherphony. 