Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
On the advice of a friend, I’d visited my GP and told him everything I was experiencing. My hope had been that there was some miracle pill that could cure what I was going through, whether it was depression or anxiety or something else. No such luck. My doctor had deduced that I was going through something similar to a mid-life crisis, and the upheaval going on in my life was causing anxiety, which was in turn making me resort to something known as “withdrawal from process.”
According to him, I was so overwhelmed by situations outside of my control that I was withdrawing from things I used to take in my stride. I’d stopped taking as much care with my appearance, didn’t exercise like I used to and was constantly avoiding going to my parents’ house for family dinners or meeting up with friends. I was grouchy, drinking too much and generally unpleasant to be around. Outside of working and taking care of my kids, I kept to myself. Mam’s birthday party was supposed to be a step in the right direction, an attempt to start attending family gatherings again. But then I saw Milly, and it made me feel like walking right back out the door.
My doctor had me on a regime of weekly mindfulness classes and monthly sessions with a counsellor. He also recommended I avoid alcohol and try to eat as healthily as possible while focusing on getting a good amount of sleep. I’d started swimming and running again, and it was improving my moods somewhat. All in all, I was making headway, though not drinking had been tough, and I’d slipped a few times.
Two days after my run in with Milly at the pool, I arrived home from work to a sound I hadn’t heard in months: my daughter’s laughter. I stood in the entryway to the apartment, my keys clutched in my hand as something released within me. I hadn’t even realised how much tension I’d been holding until that very moment. Hearing Gigi laugh in such a joyous way filled me with a kind of relief I hadn’t known I’d needed.
Walking into the kitchen, I found Pablo sitting at the counter eating a sandwich and scrolling on his phone. My son was getting taller by the day, his thick mop of dark hair a shaggy mess and his oversized hoodie looking like it could use a run through the washing machine. Pablo was nothing like me at sixteen. I’d been an outdoorsy lad who’d loved to run and work out and go to parties. Pablo much preferred to hang out with his small group of friends and have gaming marathons in his bedroom. Well, that was one thing we had in common because I’d loved gaming as a teenager, too.
“Gigi has a new friend over,” Pablo said, barely lifting his gaze from his phone.
“Oh?” I asked as I opened the fridge and checked what there was to throw together for dinner, though clearly my son had beaten me to it with his sandwich. I needed to start meal prepping or something because my kids were always hungry and resorting to making their own dinners by the time I got home from work.
“Some new girl from school. She’s crazy about Purple Beatrice, too.”
“Ah, I see,” I replied as I grabbed some eggs and peppers to make an omelette. Purple Beatrice was a Korean pop band that my daughter had been obsessed with since she was eleven. She was forever begging me to bring her to one of their concerts, but they hadn’t played a show in Ireland yet. I’d actually been contemplating taking her to see them at one of their shows abroad, make a little weekend trip out of it. However, if I knew my daughter, she wouldn’t want to go to a concert with her dad. I might be able to convince my sister, Nuala, to take her, though. Gigi adored her aunt, and in fact, she was one of the few people who could get her to smile these days. More giggles filtered down the hallway from her bedroom as I went to check on her.
I knocked twice on the door, then called, “Gigi, do you want some dinner?”
“No, thanks, Dad. Deirdre and I already had pizza.”
Deirdre? That must be the friend. I was tempted to open the door but then thought better of it. Gigi sounded happy for the first time in ages, a lightness to her voice that eased the worry and tension I’d been carrying. I’d leave her to spend time with her new friend.
Returning to the kitchen, Pablo said, “I could eat a little more.”
I chuckled, because he’d just made short work of a giant chicken and bacon sandwich. I remembered being his age and the amount of food I needed to put away just to keep my hunger at bay. I gave his shaggy hair a scruff. “Course you could. So, how was school?”