Growing up I’d always thought that when you have a health problem, you go see the Dr. and they fix it……right? But I went to the Dr. and I took whatever medicines he wanted me to. Hell, I was taking upwards of ten to fifteen medications a day. I even went to therapy when I was uncomfortable talking about it. I TRIED to find a hobby, or keep myself busy. I did all the things the Dr.s want you to do in these situations. I got a psychiatrist. AND, not to mention, some of those people were a little kookier than I was at the time. But am I the problem as my mind tells me I am. Or am I a side effect among the problems we live with everyday, and it has nothing to do with medication?
“Well, I also have been drinking quite a bit and that’s not good,” I tell her. “Stop!” The Psychologist abruptly exclaims and literally puts her hand in the air and shoves it my way. “My specialty isn’t in drinking, so I’m not comfortable talking about that.” But the sign just said “Psychologist,” so I don’t get it. I just needed an ear to listen to me rant so I’d hopefully not take it out on my friends. “That’s just not a subject I’m ok with.” Ok lady, I just need you to therapitize me, alrighty? I think to myself. Her salt and pepper hair was so frizzy and she’d spit when she talked, it was gross. And, you can imagine what came out of her mouth when she was all amped up. It was like a loogie shot out. So far, I’ve been to five counselors, or therapists and have a psychiatrist as well. My psychiatrist is amazing but I’m having a terrible time finding a therapist. None of them talk. And the one that does, wants me to come to a sleepover where her office is for an entire weekend, with four other people and pay her $2,000 dollars to do it. She would talk nonstop about the husband she’d lost to cancer, which yes, is terrible, but I was paying to listen to her problems in the session and I really needed help. All of the sudden I was the counselor and just wanted to be the counselee. She even got upset with me when I left her, begged me to stay and then flipped it and got angry with me. She wore an orange tiger looking fur coat with tennis shoes, it was all just too weird. I didn’t realize how many of them would just sit and write notes and never talk except to say “mmm-hmmm.” And I know that’s part of the practice but I also know they’re there to give guidance as well. I’d feel stupid after awhile because with a few of them you could tell they weren’t even listening. They just knew when to nod and utter those, “mm-hmms,” to keep me going and get to their paycheck. The one positive however, was that I’d have a little time to think about the things I was saying and give myself a little advice about them. So I kind of got to counsel myself. It’s weird how you feel a certain way and you can’t quite figure it out until you really put it out there. All of the sudden new bells turn on and you have just a little more spark of a hope you’ve been missing.
Speaking of paycheck’s, that’s another thing I’m noticing slipping. I’m a really hard worker, like, I bust my ass when I’m on the clock. And lately, I just don’t see the point in it anymore. I can’t see the point in anything. It’s not that I’m looking for a reason to slack off either, I just feel like the world’s constantly in robot mode, working 9-5 and it’s the same thing everyday. How old. I remember one of my bosses coming up to me and saying, “Well, there’s my hard little worker, I don’t even know where the rest of the staff is.” Well, they were all hanging out on a bench chatting about what they’d done that weekend. I thought,”What the hell is this? He’s not even going to tell them to get back to work and I’m standing here sweating and cleaning, why do I take this so seriously? I’m feeling a constant disappointment all of the time. Maybe I really am just this side-effect of life where the world is the problem and there is no cure. We work a long day just so we can be too tired at home to give a damn. Go to college to fulfill our passion into a career only to have it wiped away because the hours only get longer and the pay is never enough. Our passion then turns into resentment and nobody gets along anymore. I wonder why we put so much energy into the things we’re “supposed” to do, like work, but then the reality of our lives come home and we’re too burnt out to be a part of it. Every day it’s the same thing, in and out, over and over. I just don’t understand. I’m feeling more and more like I don’t belong here because it feels like I’m the only one who doesn’t get it to this kind of Nth degree. Then, when I finally do figure things out, It feels like a disappointing answer and I’m so tired of disappointments. So tired of thinking “this is it.” This is what I’ve come to be, have to be and have to accept for the rest of my life. But I’ve tried accepting it before. I guess that was just another side effect.