Emotional Rescue
May is Mental Health Awareness Month. Eight days to go. Don't worry...when it ends they'll be another one or ten or fifty awareness months in June.
I've noticed that since I was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease that I'm a lot more emotional than I used to be. Do I attribute that to having PD? Not really...maybe a little. Does it come with aging? Also, maybe a little.
Examples? Oh yeah!
You know those scenes where a service person comes home after being overseas and it's set up to surprise the family? I watch those on YouTube and tear up every time. I even look for those knowing what's going to happen. Yeah..I know..wuss!!
Remember a year ago when Chicago Blackhawk Brent Seabrook cleared the puck into the Boston Bruin defensive zone and Chicago won the Stanley Cup? TEARS!!! I'm getting a little chilled just writing that. Well...ok...that was important stuff.
I do have one movie that always gets me..."Without A Trace". Kate Nelligan and Judd Hirsch star. Her little boy is kidnapped and they spend a couple of hours looking for him. They finally find him and bring him home. When Kate sees her child running up the street towards her....oh man...fucking waterworks!! I've seen this movie ten times and it always gets me.
Now if nonsense like that can get me...well Hockey isn't nonsense...what do real life events bring?
I had a friend who died a few months ago. The unfairness of that event sent me running to my therapist for two sessions. I'm still mad about it but at least I'm not Zoloft mad.
I guess I figured out that how you're able to handle emotional things is the difference between an hour with a therapist and a lifetime on Vallium.
So last Saturday, my youngest daughter graduated college. Most certainly an event that bring emotions up pretty high.
I'm sitting with the audience, waiting for the ceremony to begin and two women in the row behind me start wailing. They look like a mother and grandmother of a graduate. I turned and shot them a nasty look which meant.."Hey!! They haven't even walked in yet. Knock it the fuck off! NOW!!"
I guess it worked. Never heard from them again. PHEW!
The rest of the ceremony went as planned. Kids walk...diplomas passed out...proud parents and siblings.
What happened afterwards. I chase down my daughter and lots of hugs, kisses and smiles. No tears.
Then we ran into her roommate of the last four years. Hugs and tears. Not mine but my baby. Awwweee! Sweet!
So I'm okay. Yeah, I have a moment or five where I can use a little help but there's a line between needing an occasional emotional rescue and a lifetime of psych drugs....and that line is pretty wide.
As for my daughter, I think she's better now. But honey...if you need some help, I can get you some drugs.