Page 9 of Love and Other Mental Health Concerns
I have spent the last ten years living in this apartment and making sure it felt like my home. My goal is to walk in the door and be assaulted with feelings of comfort and safety that I never felt when living with my mom. It is a large open living space, with a small bedroom, a full kitchen, and original, red, brick walls. Lustrous wood floors match the dark stain from the restaurant downstairs, and it always smells like the sandwich shop’s fresh bread in the morning. Tall windows facing out to Main Street makes people watching one of my favorite hobbies.
When I finally started making a little money, I bought a large sectional sofa with deep cushions, so soft that they suck you in and turn everyReal Housewivesmarathon into a nap. Fluffy rugs, antique lamps, and a vintage, iron, bed frame from a local thrift shop, round out a space that would be inviting to anyone, but it’s just for me. It’s warm, its secure, and it is the one place where my anxiety will occasionally allow me a reprieve.
As far as life goes, I am in the sweetest spot that I have ever been. A spot that I wasn’t sure would be possible for me to reach at several points throughout my life. My anxiety and depression are largely under control. I have a career that invigorates me, a small group of family and friends who understand me, and a place to live that offers me a sense of calm that I could only dream of as a kid.
This found contentment of the past couple of years has made finding a partner low on my list of priorities. I have been so focused on my own needs that I haven’t had so much as a crush in years, and it wasn’t until I was blushing as I talked with Gary and Stan tonight that I realize I might be developing one on the consultant.
I assume a crush would make most people excited, not nervous, but with my brain, that is what happens when I think about adding more to my life. In no way have I intentionally ignored men, I just haven’t made room for them in the past six years; and since my world hasn’t always had this level of stability, the risk of disruption for any reason is terrifying.
Even if that potential risk is six foot three with a beard and a devastating smile.
CHAPTER SIX
Marcy
I realize I’m running a little late and throw on my best fitting jeans and a clingy black t-shirt. My go-to bar outfit. We are meeting at Brothers, our usual stop for drinks when we need time to vent. Its casual, and since Annie and I know everyone in town and I have long sworn off the available dating pool, the pressure is low. My hair is a mess of curls from the combination of a stressful day and helmet head from my bike ride home. My meticulous make-up job for my earlier meeting has now become a bit of a mess, but still acceptable. Dim bar lighting is a girl’s best friend.
Grabbing my bag, I head out the door and down the stairs that lead to the back of my building. I exit into the parking lot, passing where I locked up my bike when I got home this afternoon. I do have a car, an old green Ford Escape, that I pat lovingly as I wander by on my way to Main Street. Unfortunately, she has been out of commission since I haven’t prioritized getting her broken oil pan (or something like that) fixed after an unfortunate incident involving a raccoon and a suspiciously behaving curb. Hence the bike commute.
The bar Is only a couple blocks from my apartment. The night Is cool and clear, the kind of perfect fall night that we don’t get enough of in Minnesota. Summer is beautiful for a couple months, fall lasts what feels like ten minutes, we have eternalwinter, and then spring happens for one week in May. You grow up with the expression, “no bad weather, just bad clothing!” echoed by your elders. The tough part about being a kid with a negligent parent though, is that the number of days with “bad clothing” aren’t few and far between. I was always going to school with ripped mittens, missing buttons, jackets that were too small, the list goes on. So tonight, I am over dressed in a soft, down jacket, nearly down to my ankles, that most Minnesotans might raise an eyebrow to, but I refuse to be cold again if it’s in my control.
In no time, I am walking over the threshold of Brothers, scanning for Annie. The tavern is in an old bank building, right on Main Street. It has high ceilings, and the original brick that is similar to the style in my apartment. The wood floors are dulled from the traffic of patrons, wide boards that make the space feel especially inviting. The bar takes up nearly the full-length of the space, with several high-top tables also distributed throughout. Behind the bar are glass shelves with beautiful uplighting in a deep purple that makes the space feel rich, and this place the townie favorite. Cheap whiskey and light beers are the staples, along with a few local brews and ciders.
The spot is busy, it is a Friday night, but not so busy that I don’t spot Annie right away. She always looks effortlessly beautiful, even though she hasn’t bothered to change out of her work scrubs or tighten up her messy blond bun. She’s one of those women who men are naturally drawn to, and even as I approach, she is turning down some cute, young, guy who seems to think he has a shot. He departs as I make my way toward the middle of the bar, where she is saving a stool for me. I take a quick glance around, spotting the familiar faces that I have come to know since childhood reflected back at me with the obligatory polite nods. A string of Creedence Clearwater Revival songs havetaken over the speakers. I hop into the seat next to Annie and thank her for the beer that she already has waiting at my seat.
“Glad to see you are prepared in case of a freak snow event.” She welcomes me.
“Ha. I will let that snark slide since you already have my drink waiting. I’m glad to see you decided to stay for girls’ night instead of entertaining…whoever that is. You are a good friend.”
“Don’t I know it! I remembered you had your meeting with the Adonis today, so no way was I about to bail. Besides, I am taking a break from boys at the moment.” It makes me giggle to hear her say she needs to take a proactive break from her love life. We couldn’t be more different in that regard.
“Well, thank you.” I take a large drag and set the bottle on the counter. I love having a couple drinks with Annie after work, but sometimes there is a strange guilt that rests in the back of my mind that my mom could never have this. One was never enough, and she paid a price for that. We both did.
“So, tell me, how was it? As bad as you were afraid it would be?” She asks, genuine interest in her tone.
“Honestly? It was…confusing. Enlightening? Awkward? A lot of things really.”
“Explain.”
I tell Annie about Nick’s optimism for mental health services, and his belief that there is money to be made if done correctly. I share that he seems to understand the populations we serve and the limitations I have had with the lack of other staff and resources. She smiles at me when I tell her I am my own department, and frowns when I share that the department has no money.
“Okay, but that doesn’t sound so bad. Sounds like he was listening and is willing to work with you.” Annie is ever the optimist, “And you managed to have the conversation, so your anxiety must have stayed mostly under control.” Annie, Garyand Stan are the only people in my life that have the full picture of my own mental health needs.
“Yeah, I did better organizing my thoughts than I thought I would. And honestly, the work wasn’t the confusing part. Keith joined the meeting, which I didn’t realize was going to happen. It helped at first because I could stay more focused.” I explain.
“More focused?”
“Well yeah, the smell of the Adonis in a small office space, paired with well, all of him, was a bit overwhelming at the start.” I blush a bit.
Annie giggles, “Okay, no offense but you are getting to a more interesting part of the recap. Continue.”
“So anyway, Keith joins, my head feels like it is screwed back on, and I start to talk. But Keith interrupts me a couple times, because…well, he’s Keith. And Nick flips a switch that felt so out of character, it kind of threw me.” I explain.
“What do you mean?”
“He scolded Keith like a child! He had this intense gaze, and his demeanor went from attentive and engaged to street fighter after the second interruption. He came to my defense, told him if he could not keep his mouth shut then he needed to leave the meeting. Like he was a child.” I can’t help but laugh a little thinking back to the look on Keith’s face. “It was so jarring, but also the way he stood up for me was so…” I can feel my whole-body heating just thinking of it.
“Hot? Because that is fucking hot Marcy, I don’t care what you say.” She’s engrossed.
