2nd Thing: Andy

Andy sent me a text after a ridiculous day at work. It said: "Hey bro, give me a shout if you're free."

Andy doesn't usually reach out like this, somewhat worried, but equally intrigued, I answered his request. Walking briskly away from the place that was causing me anxiety and stress, desperately looking forward to my days off. I pulled out my yellow phone lodged grotesquely in my slim jeans pocket. Tapping the phone icon above his name, the familiar woodpecker paced tone of FaceTime audio echoed down my ear canal.

"What's up B?" he sang down the line.

I hesitated. Not because of his cheery response but more because I was on the edge of tears. I was feeling so overwhelmed with everything, even as I breathe I could feel my breath quivering. My eyes were turning to puddles, and my hands were shaking. At that moment I wanted sit in the middle of the floor, legs crossed, sobbing into my hands. It all really hit me. I'm not happy. Elements of my life are great, but overall, I'm feeling the pinch.

I blinked fast to clear my vision like windscreen wipers in torrential rain. Quickly adjusted the height of my Adam's Apple and replied:

"Yeah B, I'm alright. What's up?"

Before the words even left my mouth, I knew Andy wasn't buying it. I heard the mental "yeah, Aaron. Whatever" through the phone. After we greeted each other, made the necessary check ins about the family. We started talking about work. Now, this conversation happened before I had my disciplinary hearing for sickness. I've breached policy which is, three occasions of sick during a 90 period. Guilty as charged. What I'm more upset about, is the way it was managed and the possible sanction I could get for a condition that is still plaguing me. As I type, my gastroenteritis has flared up again, but. Off to work I go. The negative part of me wants this condition to be serious, to the point where I collapse at work. I want them to see, I'm really not well.

If management deem a first stage sanction necessary, I cannot apply for any promotions/transfers for three months. Telling me I have three confirmed months more in the same place, is starting to feel like a death sentence. I just want to hand my notice in. Give them whatever it is they want from me. At this juncture, wether it be paranoia or Hyde playing a nasty trick on me. I don't feel wanted at work, nor appreciated. In fact, it feels like I can truly trust no one in there, professionally.

Which brings me back to Andy. He read my last post; usually when he's about to bestow wisdom, he has this opportunistic swing in his voice. This time, it sounded a little stuck, almost lost for words or least contemplating whatever he wanted to say to me really, really carefully. As if Andy knew that things I'm going through just have to be ridden out, or I have to get out. Andy spoke with an apologetic tone, as if trying to cleanse my current bad spell. There was an insight to him that I hadn't experienced before. Whilst we occasionally finish each other's sentences, this almost felt like he empathised but also sympathised with my current situation. We conversed like he had first-hand, written-the-thesis, held-the-conference, experience. I felt like, he was living this with me.

"Az, maybe this rat race isn't for you. If you feel like your calling is to sell up, travel the world or even just disappear, maybe that's the headspace you need. I regretted somewhat not doing that when I had the chance".

I thought about this over the last several days. Could I just leave? What would I do? Where would I go? I thought about just going to Jamaica and chilling with my Aunt. But would I fall back into the rat race, just in a different setting? What about Sean? Where would that leave us? My parents aren't well, how would I look after them? I couldn't get back to the UK easily if something were to happen to them.

"Every time we speak about this, there's always an excuse. And good ones, yes. Right now, dad, mum and nan aren't in the greatest shape. You're literally in the middle of moving, and work?! Pfff... that's just a tough"

"But Andy, if I leave and go travelling and this is the last time I see my dad, I'm not going to think it's worth it." I replied.

"Az, I get it". He sighed, not with exhaustion, but more, if not now, when? As if, every other option, just didn't really fit. Action needed to happen now, not later. "A, if you don't take care of you, you can't take care of others". True, and this isn't the first time he's told me this. This felt like crunch time, though. But I have no other choice. I have to get up. Face the fake ones, love the real ones. Divulge nothing, to no one. What other choice do I have?

"Those that love you A, will be here when you get back". He continued, "And I don't mean waiting for you, but the welcome back would greeted with the same response. You'll be coming back to family, they understand you. We understand you, I just want you to be happy bro, I love you, call me soon".

I went underground. And my knees were shaking. On packed DLR train back to Lewisham, my eyes were puddles again. We spoke for a good 30 minutes, mainly him talking, me listening. Contemplating could I actually just get up and leave?

I constantly hear, trust the journey. And by no means am I expecting an easy ride. But. Whatever lesson I'm supposed to learn, I'm clearly not grasping it. Someone just give me the answer, because rolling one day to the next, is seriously damaging my mental.