Up the stairs, down the hall, and to the left…
I remember the very first time I entered these doors…one slow step at a time. My hand dragged across the banister, the walls, the doors. I saw the name “David E. Dickman” printed on a plaque just outside the door, took a deep breath, then turned the handle.
That was almost seven years ago. I keep hitting these points in my life where I think I’m done, and I’ll never have to walk through that door again, never have to pay someone to listen to the details of my ever changing life…but just when I think I’m done…there I am again, turning that door knob, sitting in the same chair just to the right of the door, staring at the same clock who’s second hand is just a smidgen off, so it never quite hits right on the line as it ticks each second of my life away.
I can hear voices coming from the wall to my right, one or two are usually women, and the other is the familiar laugh of my therapist. I stare at the clock, awaiting for the locked door to open and see his smiling face. It often feels fake, a smile that I need to see, a welcoming grin, I don’t always trust it. He’s good at blocking out whatever is troubling him so he can focus on his job, but it doesn’t matter because I’m not here for him, I’m here for me. I’m here to sort out my head, to bounce ideas and memories off of someone who I will never see outside of these walls. I’m sure he enjoys helping me, he enjoys his work and I present an ever growing boost to his ego that he is, in fact, bringing some good to the world. Though I sound ungrateful, I’m not. I don’t come to this office in search of a friend, I come because I need someone to talk to, someone who specializes in my specific piles of shit, and someone who’s sole goal for that hour chunk of time is to help guide me on a path to something better.
Last Tuesday, I thanked him for his patience and willingness to continue with me, despite how often I’ve stopped going. He smiled and said, “I think you’re worth it.” That smile felt real.
Trust is hard to come by, it takes time to establish a relationship with someone
It’s been nearly seven years since I first stepped through those doors, but it’s working, and every hard earned dime that has gone towards my recovery is well worth it.
I spent Sunday afternoon with my mother. I took her to a video shoot for my buddy’s band. I’m not a huge fan of their music it’s just not my style, but my mom enjoys it, and the bass player is a dear friend so I support him as best as I can. We spoke about a lot of things on the way to Edmonds. I told my mother about the documentary, and about finally connecting with my sister. Told her about the process of healing. It was an emotional drive to say the least, but something really stood out among everything. She said, “I’ve always tried to do the best I could, and I want to break the cycle, but I just don’t know how.” Another thing that stood out was a conversation she was having with one of the other guests, and she was talking about how you never ever crush a child’s dreams. She shared that it’s best to let them figure it out for themselves if they can do it or not. Idunno, there’s a lot I’m not sharing right now because I’m tired, and should’ve been to sleep hours ago.
A lot is changing. It’s time to be responsible on many levels. I wish I could say that I’m done with self destruction, but I can’t…only that my current path is leading me further away from the former, and I’m happy that it seems to be content with just sending me post cards.
I am going to heal, and I’m going to help my sister heal, which will hopefully spread to my mother and grandmother as well.
In the mean time, I’ve almost got 5 confirmed dates for my first solo tour in October. Pretty stoked, the locations are starting to change, but I don’t mind. I will go where ever the wind carries me. 🙂