I work at a float center; people come in, float, chat, and leave. There’s rarely been a situation in which my heart strings have been pulled. We have a few people that come in that are living with fibromyalgia, which is a chronic widespread musculoskeletal pain accompanied by fatigue and sleep problems. But I guess they never come on the days when I am actually working. There is one woman, though. I rarely see her, but when I have, I can see the tiredness in her eyes. I feel for her, I slightly see myself in her.
But, today. This man took the cake of pulling my heart strings by leaving a simple, but detailed voicemail.
The voicemail was almost 2 minutes long, LOT longer than the standard “my name is x, do you have any appointments today?” Type of messages I generally receive. Anyways, this man called and left a voicemail. He started by stating his name and spoke about how he has been clean from drugs and alcohol since February 8th of this year. That alone got me. He continued to say he quit his job yesterday because he’s been so stressed and he’s looking for an alternative. I know that floating often, or religiously as I often say, helps decrease addictive behavior, and helps detox the body (fuck yeah, Epsom salt). It will also helo decrease his stress. In such a short time, I thought so much. It made me think of my own parents.
Both of my parents did drugs on and off, and I wish I could have helped them and be there for them. I wish I knew how to alleviate these addictive behaviors they and diminish their need to do those horrible drugs. I look at my parents, and I feel as though I don’t know them. I look at them and wish I could save them. My parents are 58 and 67: They’re both adults who have lived their lives and honestly, they’re lucky enough to be here today. I walk the streets of my hometown, looking the junkies talking to themselves, or simply just too high to move. I see people begging on the streets and I’m thankful my parents don’t have to deal with that. But, inside, I am hurting. Tremendously. I hate the fear of going home and being forced to stay in my room while my dad gets high in the kitchen. I hate the fear of getting in the car with my mom, not knowing if she’s been drinking or smoking. I am almost 24, and I hold a lot of resentment with my parents. I love them; they’re the reason I’m here, but I don’t see them as parents, I see them as friends and part of me hates myself for seeing them in such a drastic change of light.
Back to the man who started all this up: He’ll be coming in today at 2pm, and luckily I will still be here. I want to tell him I am proud of him. I want him to know that no matter what, I’ll be cheering him on and thinking about him. I feel weird for feeling such a close connection to someone I only spoke to for less than 5 minutes… but. He gave me the feels. He literally gave me the feels.