This is the eleventh in a series of episodes, detailing my dawning realization, that I have some mental issues, that I must address, or risk losing those around me, who mean so much to me. I do not know how many installments this will entail, because I do not have an outline, for this particular avenue, that my Life has chosen to pursue. Because I have always found writing to be therapeutic, I am going to share my journey with anyone, who cares to read along. Believe me, I am not having that much fun.
Get Your Game Brain On
Well, I’m back on the Mountain. I told Annie that I had a goal of coming away today, Tuesday, neither too high, nor too low. Last Thursday’s encounter with Norm Bigelman, in Laytonville, had been very good, even if it had not resulted in my hooking up with him. I was afraid of the opposite occurring today. I had good reason to worry, even though I have felt nothing but good vibes.
My visit with Dr. G was as different from last Thursday’s visit to Norm Bigelman, in reality, as it could possibly have been. Norm, he is not. Whereas my meeting with Norm was short, focused on me, and extremely positive, the session with Dr. G was interminably long, still focused on me, but one heck of a lot less positive, not because of Dr. G, but because the situation itself is fraught with pent-up emotion, some of it not so confined. After all, that is the biggest reason we were there, because I have allowed so much of my emotion to overflow out from me, and into our community space.
One difference is that Annie accompanied me on this trip to Comptche; actually she drove both there and back, because I would have struggled mightily with sleep issues. As it was, I slept from Branscomb through to Fort Bragg, well over an hour, awaking to find that we were on the last leg of the two and a half hour journey. We came into Comptche, and noted Dr G’s practice as we passed, the white picket fence, with the rounded tops, easily identifiable as our targeted destination. There being nothing but a school, a post office, and a general store in Comptche, we chose to loiter in the parking lot of the store, as we looked over the newspaper, and let a half-hour grind its way along.
Judy Garratt had informed me on the phone that there was no waiting room, but that Dr. G was very prompt, if we made an appearance on the veranda out in front, at the prescribed time. That proved to be the case, as he appeared immediately to fetch us in, as soon as we had sat down on the furniture outside. He led us into a large family room, with a couch at the far end, opposite a mellow, cosy fire in the fireplace, with his chair to one side, facing us.
Dr. G is probably around my age, conservative in appearance, with no facial hair, and an uncanny resemblance to Tim Robbins, the actor. He asked us if it was too warm, and we assured him that the fire felt good, on this rainy, first-day-of-spring Tuesday. Annie and I had talked over the fact that it was important that she be on hand, in one of the early meetings, so that she could give input to Dr. G, as to what the family concerns were. Of course, I could do the same thing, but I was not in a position to be objective, nor could I have as clear of an idea, of how my actions might have impacted those around me.
The setting was nowhere what it had been with Norm, the biggest difference being purely a gut reaction. I had felt immediately at ease with Norm, slipping into a mode of communication, which allowed me to articulate in ten minutes, the entire dilemma, astonishingly coherent and concise. With Dr. G, my tongue acted as though I had ingested three-not two-of my home-made oatmeal cookies, when I had actually decided not to indulge in cookies at all, in order to guarantee that I would have my most serious game face on, and game brain, as well.
It didn’t work, primarily because I got put off almost immediately by the simple fact that my gut said, “Huh? Who are you and why should I care?” What are you supposed to do, if you instinctively do not take to a new acquaintance, the way I did with Norm, for instance. This was awkward, because I wanted to like him, but you know how these things go. I learned from Isabel, the very first counselor I had seen, that it does not pay to ignore the gut. She insisted that there was a huge difference between the head and the gut, neither one which could be ignored.
I couldn’t ignore the fact that I was put off by his conservative appearance, and by his somewhat prissy mannerisms. The man was not getting paid to play Marlon Brando; and everyone knows Tim Robbins is one of the most talented and versatile actors around, so I resigned myself to take the Complex Instruction approach to business, and follow my own advice.
Anyone who was in my classroom, while I was teaming with Paul, knows that group-work is often challenging, because you end up working side-by-side with someone you do not care for. I used to rail on about how crucial it is to be able to get around that fact. I used the example of a person who spent all of the time and money to get an education, to be able to secure the perfect job, in your area of expertise. But a problem arises, because the individual in the next desk over, turns out to be a version of your own worst nightmare, and you want to chuck the whole shooting match, in favor of working in a bar, at night, and taking classes to be able to learn how to arrange flowers.
Now I had to set aside personal reactions, recognize that I was here because I did not want to lose Annie, and get over the gut. I wasn’t dating the man, just there to avail myself of his knowledge and expertise. That’s what he was getting paid the big bucks for, and that’s why I was writing the check.