“I look like shit because I feel like shit. You don’t need to see me when I just told you and you’ll make me come in after I’ve been on the new med for a month.”
“If you want the prescription, you’ll come in, and if you miss the appointment, I’ll make a call to the team doctor.”
See? He’s an ass.
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. I’ll transfer the call back to my receptionist and have the prescription called in within the hour.”
I make the stupid appointment and then add it to my calendar with a reminder. The last thing I want to do is miss the appointment and have him reach out to the team. It’s bad enough I have to see him when I do. Why I couldn’t be like Cal in this respect and not have anything wrong with me, I don’t know. What happened to being identical? Why was I the lucky one to be burdened with an anxiety disorder?
Sometimes, on the extremely hard days, I wonder how I’m supposed to live with this suffocating issue for the rest of my life. I don’t know anyone else with this problem. How the fuck do they cope? Is there a way to cope? To manage this beast that doesn’t want to be managed? It’s like a wild horse that can’t be tamed no matter how hard you try.
My shoulders cave forward as I realize that the rest of my life will be a series of some highs, hopefully with Julie, and some hard fucking lows, which will come more often than I’d like. The smell of bacon brings my mind fully to the woman in the kitchen. Sure, she knows some of what I go through because I’ll talk about it with her. But she’s never had to live with it. Does she know what she’s getting herself into? What if it breaks our relationship in two because it’s more than she can handle? Why didn’t I think to warn her before last night?
I cover my face with my hands, my elbows propped on my knees, and try to remind myself that Julie isn’t stupid. She had to have some idea of what she was walking into with me. If not, she got a good dose this morning with the kitchen fiasco.
There’s a light knock on the bedroom door before Julie pushes it open. “Are you okay?”
I shrug. “Dr. Gressley wants me to come see him this week.” She walks over, moves my arm, and sits on my lap. Her mouth opens, but I need to ask my question. “Do you know what you’re getting into, Jules?”
Her brows pull together in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“With me.” I swallow hard and force myself to add, “And my anxiety.” She’s silent for a moment too long. “It’s different living with me and facing it instead of just talking to me a few times a week and hearing about it.”
“I’m ready to face it, Collin. All I need is for you to talk to me and be honest about what you need from me. As long as we do that, I think we’ll be okay.”
Maybe she’s right. I sure can hope so.
We spend all day at the apartment, with the exception of me having to pick up my new medication. When we watch the news at eleven, I realize today is Valentine’s Day and apparently, it snowed this morning, though it was gone by noon.
“Did you know it was Valentine’s Day?” I ask Julie, wondering if I should be in trouble for forgetting the holiday even though we’re not even a week into dating.
She laughs. “Nope. Maybe we’ll remember next year.” Julie stands and holds her hands out for mine. “Let’s go to bed.” Her eyes twinkle with a mischievous glint. I happily follow her to my room.
The next day, we visit another museum. Julie enjoys herself. I wish I was at home. There’s a layer of panic coated over my body, waiting for some stupid thing to happen and trigger an attack. Julie must be able to sense it, too. She keeps running her hand up and down my arm as if that will soothe me. If anything, it’s reminding me that I’m ready to go nuts.
An attack doesn’t happen, but being on edge all day wears me down and exhausts me to the point that when we get home, I go straight to bed.
Our break is officially over on Thursday. We have practice today and I have to see Dr. Gressley. When I see Cal, he glares at me.
“What the fuck, man? You were supposed to pick me up this morning.”
“Sorry,” I reply with absolutely no remorse. “I forgot to set my alarm and didn’t hear my phone.” Okay, so I heard it, but I was so fucking tired, I turned the ringer off. I knew he’d find his way home just fine.
He shakes his head, but looks around the dressing room as we change. “Hey, where’s Marco and Scotty?”
I look around and notice that both of them are missing. Rams is the one who answers. “Lizzy went into labor last night and the excitement caused Sylvia to go into labor this morning when she demanded Scott take her to the hospital to see Lizzy and the twins.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Be warned; Marco is going to be an absolute pain in the ass when he gets back tomorrow. He had to deliver the babies and he’s already talking shit about it.”
Holy shit. There are some things I know without a doubt I could never do. Delivering babies is one of those things. My anxiety would never allow me to be calm enough to do such a thing. I vaguely listen as Noah tells us we’re more than welcome to stop by the hospital today if we wish to check in on them and see the new mini Rebels: Eric and Aubrey Polinski, and Seth Boyd.
All I want to do today is survive practice and my appointment with Dr. Gressley.
But practice doesn’t go so well. I’ve never been more thankful to be on the ice and to not be playing a game. If this was a game, I’d be helping the other team more than my own. I don’t understand why I’m falling apart. I’m doing everything I should. I haven’t switched up anything in my routine to fuck with the superstitious gods. What in the ever-loving fuck am I doing to bring all this bad hockey juju down on me?
Frustrated and pissed, I leave practice for Dr. Gressley’s in a superb mood. With a plain hoodie on, hood up, and a hat on, I also slip on a pair of sunglasses. One reason I hate visiting this place is because it makes me paranoid. I don’t want any of the fans knowing what’s wrong with me. I decide who knows about my anxiety and that’s not some random Joe or Susie in a waiting room.