Dear Doc,

It’s late. I can’t sleep. Something is bothering me and I just can’t ignore it. It’s something that happened in a bar yesterday…

I know, I know…I’m always saying that I can’t go to public places because of panic setting in so quickly. But, yesterday, I took a couple of Xanax along with my regular medicine, which I never do. I was stoned out of my mind, and it was a private bar, so there were only a few people there. I didn’t want to go. I let a friend talk me into it and I agreed to a deal with him: One drink, one game of pool, then we leave.

My friend, L., had his drink and was playing pool by the big window at the front of the bar. I sat on a barstool near the back end of the bar, watching the Nature Channel with the manager. I remember looking to my right…then things just changed. My surroundings changed…like someone had flipped a switch.

Before I knew what was happening, I felt transported. I was ten, and it was a hot summer evening. My friend, R. and I were playing dominoes while the adults drank and carried on in the bar we were in. His parents…mine…everyone was drunk or drinking. We were in the back, R. and I, at a table by the door. Suddenly, there was a lil dust up with this old man who lived on a hilltop just down the road a bit. Voices were raised, and he got up and left. I remember laughing about it with R. Some time after the man left, I remember hearing the front doorbell ring. I looked to see who came in. It was the old man. He had a gun. I remember how silent it was in the bar, then it was loud and R. and I flipped the table over and got behind it. Three shots were fired, then it was quiet again.

It seemed like ages before I got the nerve to peek over the table’s edge and see what had gone on. Everyone was just frozen in their seats. Silent. Then, someone laughed. They fucking laughed and everything went back to the way it was. The barkeep approached the old man, who still stood by the door, and took the gun and put a beer in his hand. He led him to a table and sat him down. Nobody was hurt. That was that. R. and I picked up the dominoes and righted the table and continued to play.

I came back to myself after that. I don’t know if it was a flashback or just a strong memory, but I couldn’t wait to leave the bar after it happened. I was shaking and sick and my ears were ringing so loudly that I couldn’t hear the TV. My heart was pounding, I was sweating. God, it was embarrassing. I asked my friend to leave, as I had kept my part of the deal. We did. But he was extremely upset. That’s another story…

I’m wondering if this type of thing is going to happen very often, Doc. Is this a result of your magic nightmare pills? Abilify? Me? What gives? Why do I feel more crazy now than before I met you? Yes. I actually do. So…????

I will give you credit for something that is rather life changing: I am drawing boundaries and keeping them. I am doing so well that I could show Pres. Trump a thing or two about building a wall! lol! Actually, you’ll have to share credit with my friend, S. Both of you have been very encouraging in that regard and I do feel as though I’m worth a lil bit of something now. After the situation at the bar, a friend I was staying with to help him find a way to detox from alcohol showed me some very frightening aspects of his personality. I was told to leave and I left. I actually left. And it felt good. I was packing before I was told, anyway. Not too long ago, I’d have sat there and tried to figure him out, or understand what was ‘wrong’. I couldn’t have left and stayed gone for anything in the world.

I’ve never left a frightening situation before. I solve frightening situations. That’s who I am; it’s what I do. I don’t feel fear when things get to the point where everyone else is jumping ship. But, guess what? I was fucking scared. Fear. I felt fear of a human being for the first time in ages. Real fear, not ‘we’re having a fight and this will stop soon’ fear. It went from head to toe. And I thought to myself that there must be a serious reason why I was feeling that. So, I left. I left and I felt good and safe and like I’d done something in my own defense for the first time that I can remember. I had no need to ‘see it through’. No looking back, no turning around…I went home.

Even on the way home, as the threatening phone calls started, I felt okay. I still feel okay. And I can’t believe I did that…I left. I left him alone. OMG. And I don’t even want to fix things, or go back. He showed his dark side and I believed him. I’ve never believed anyone before because I have a dark side, too. It’s always been bigger than ‘theirs’. It’s not now, I guess. I don’t know. I don’t feel like a lil bitch, or as though someone one-upped me. This is too weird, Doc. Way too weird…

I thought things were over last night, but, in place of the usual ‘Good Morning’ text my friend sends, this morning’s said ‘Fucking You’. I guess he meant ‘Fuck You’, but was probably already too drunk to text. I’ve never seen anything like that before. He reminds me of the drunk in Leaving Las Vegas, or the guy in Less Than Zero. It’s a heartbreaking thing to watch. He’s been trying so hard to hold back and to find help. I hope he’s gotten help now. He had an appointment this morning. Otherwise, he’ll have to wait till next Monday to get into a rehab facility. I feel so bad for him, but I still have no desire to text back or continue any relationship with him, whatsoever.

Well, I’ve rambled on enough. Guess I’ll talk to ya soon, Doc…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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