SIGNING ON:As his moods worsen and his relationship with his shrink deteriorates, our unemployed columnist struggles to stay strong
HIS MOOD continues to darken – how could it not with the self-destructive cycle he has fallen into? Three days before a rescheduled appointment with his shrink, he is driving in teeming rain, his daughters strapped in tight, when a flashy new Audi breaks the lights, careers across his path, the driver flinging a mobile phone into the rear.
The unemployed man brakes as progressively as he can (because of his love of cars and bikes, his wife always bought him advanced driving lessons at Christmas/birthdays); at the last second he yanks the handbrake. The back end steps out neatly; the front bumper halts inches from the offending vehicle.
He tells his girls he’ll be back in two seconds, descends. Feels adrenaline (and more) pumping. Sees the other driver’s phone still winking on the back seat. The offender holds his hands up, indicates he’ll pull over to the side. Then accelerates away.
The unemployed man watches him disappear, blood boiling. He understands that if his daughters were not with him car, he’d probably have given chase and, well, that might not have been a good idea.
(To say the least).
***
Normally his sessions with his shrink are cordial, if restrained. Today the session is tense. The shrink asks him how he is? “Not so good.” The shrink starts his routine of listing positive aspects of the patient’s life; his intelligence (yeah right – he’s swap it for a sales/marketing CV any day); his love for his daughters; his wife’s recovering health and the fact that she will soon start work; his past achievements (how the word “past” stings); his wonderful relationship with his parents, etc, ad nauseam.
“Look Doc, I’m not in the mood. Please, skip the ‘a man is not defined by his occupation’ rigmarole. It doesn’t work.”
The shrink leans forward, palpable impatience in his voice.
“Let’s talk about moods. Yours is black. I suspect the underlying reasons are, once again, to do with lack of sleep, alcohol abuse, lack of exercise. Don’t you get bored with that routine?”
Silence.
“I think it may be time for me to refer you to someone else.”
The unemployed man swallows. He doesn’t want to be “referred”, doesn’t want to start the whole tedious process again.
“No. It’s not time, Doc.”
***
He is a given a prescription for a drug called Campral, which prevents alcohol cravings, but throws it away. Ceases, the old fashioned way.
Visits his GP, gets another round of Niquitin. Within days is back in the gym. Restored.
When he begins to hit the bag, however, he still sees the driver of the expensive Audi.
***
An unemployed friend rings; he has secured three days a week in the marketing department of an ad agency. They meet for pints (two). His friend is so happy, it is infectious.
Next morning when he wakes, the unemployed man feels positive, eager. He hugs the baby tight. Realises he has been going through the motions with her.
(Idiot).
***
A week later, the friend rings. There were two people on trial; they picked the other (younger, childless) guy. The unemployed man hears the hurt in his friend’s voice, suggests they meet for cycle, a walk. The friend declines, but before he hangs up:
“You were happier for me than anyone else on the planet. You’re a good man.”
(Praise always makes him feel curiously child-like inside).