Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
After a pause, I asked, “Are you planning to see your father at Christmas?”
“No, but he’s coming to the Bay Area in mid-December for an event. We’ve made plans to get together for an extremely awkward dinner.”
“You two don’t get along?”
“It’s not that. He’s just not easy to talk to. I opened up to him a few years ago when I was in the middle of a mental health crisis, but he wasn’t ready to hear what I had to say to him. Things have been strained between us ever since.” He took a sip of tea and straightened the napkins on the tray.
“Is it okay to ask what happened? Feel free to tell me to go to hell if it’s too personal.”
“I don’t mind talking about it.” He started fidgeting with his mug as he said, “A lot of things came to a head at the same time, and it was more than I could handle. Part of that was PTSD from my time in Afghanistan. In case you’re wondering, I’ve done years of counseling since then, and I’m healing.”
He exhaled slowly, and after a moment he continued, “The thing is though, I was struggling even before the PTSD. Like I said earlier, I was lost and confused, and that went back a lot further than my deployment. I was deep in the closet, living a lie. I lost Sawyer because I couldn’t be honest with him, or with myself. On top of that, I was living a life mapped out by my father from the day I was born. I ended up giving the Army over a decade of my life, but it was never what I wanted.”
He paused before saying, “As much as I tried to keep pushing it down, all my pain, anger, and unhappiness finally built to the point where I couldn’t keep it contained. I didn’t know why I was acting out at the time, but I started doing self-destructive things, like talking back to superior officers and picking fights in bars.”
“I understand,” I said quietly. “We aren’t taught how to ask for help, and you’re not the first man to finally reach his breaking point.”
“That’s exactly what it was, my breaking point. One of those bar fights ended up putting me in the hospital, and that’s where I was when my dad decided to come and see me. I was lying there bruised and broken, but instead of asking if I was okay, he started yelling at me. How could I be so stupid? Did I want to throw away my military career? What the hell was I thinking? On and on.
“And that was it. Something in me snapped. I started screaming and crying, and I couldn’t stop. I began trashing the room, breaking and throwing things. I couldn’t put my pain into words, so I turned it into actions.”
Tracy paused again before telling me, “All I can say is, it’s a damn good thing I was in a hospital at the time, or who knows what would’ve happened to me. Several orderlies ran in and ended up physically restraining me while a doctor shot me full of sedatives. Before the drugs kicked in, I remember looking at my dad. He’d stepped back into a corner while all of that was going on. I expected to see anger, horror, or disgust, but instead, he looked worried. It was the first time in my life I thought he might actually care about me.”
Tracy fell silent, and I moved closer and took his hand. After a while, he continued, “Anyway, when you act like that in a hospital, a stay in a psych unit is pretty much a given. I spent two weeks in one, and honestly, it was the best thing that could have happened. It’s where I met a counselor who ended up changing my life, and it’s also where my dad and I had our first truly honest conversation. Among other things, I finally came out to him, which I’d dreaded from the very first moment I realized I was gay.”
“How’d he take it?”
Tracy shrugged. “He wasn’t thrilled, but I guess it didn’t seem like such a big deal at the time, considering everything I was going through. I also told him I was done with the Army in that same conversation, which hit him harder than the news about my sexuality.
“To this day, he still can’t understand why I ‘threw away a promising career.’ Actually, to him it’s more than a job. It’s who he is. I tried to explain it was never right for me, but that made no sense to him.”
Tracy let go of my hand so he could pick up his mug. After he took another sip of tea, he said, “Anyway, that’s the very long story of my mental health crisis, and how it led to a lot of positive changes. I’m still a work in progress, obviously. So’s my relationship with my father.”