Page 75 of The Girlfriend Game
I throw a fifty down on the table to cover my tab and turn to say goodbye to Jaeger, who is clearly already sucked into the web of seduction. I give him a bro-shake before weaving through the crowd toward the door.
As I walk out of the club and down the quiet Seattle street, the rain begins to drizzle over my head, coating the pavement. It feels good though. Fresh and clean and I suck in a lungful of crisp fall air. Fall is upon us and we’re quickly approaching the holiday season. It seems like a lifetime already when I was walking this same street together with Kendall.
A sharp pain hits me under the ribs and between my pecs. I know exactly what it is and stop in my tracks, pressing a firm hand against the brick building to catch my breath and breathe through the panic as it rolls through me.
Fuck me, this sucks.
Even with the strides I’ve made with my mental health and the cocktail of anti-depressants I take daily, these unexpected attacks can come out of the blue and for any reason. Unfortunately, there is no quick cure-all for anxiety. It doesn’t go away overnight. It’s something I’ll live with forever. At least now I’ve learned to recognize the symptoms and power through them so I don’t end up lying flat on my back in the middle of a televised game.
I check the date of my next appointment on my phone and the calendar pops up with a date of next Saturday. But it’s not for my appointment with Dr. Yu, it’s for the Pilots’ recognition banquet Marek is hosting. Shit, I’d forgotten about that.
I rub a brisk hand over my heart to rid myself of the dull ache and continue walking home. I’ll see Kendall at the banquet for the first time in over a month. Since I returned from our overseas trip when we met up for coffee to have our break-up chat.
It was a struggle to give her space, especially when I didn’t agree that moving on and ending our relationship was the best thing for both of us. I didn’t want to give her up. I also didn’t want to be a controlling asshole like my father. So I swallowed my pride and let her go.
Shit, the pain I experienced from that conversation nearly set me back fifteen years. I kept hearing my dad’s voice in my head. “You’re not good enough for this game. You’ll never be good enough.”
What I’ve worked out through therapy has helped me see that my father’s bitterness and failures were his own, and his way of coping was making me feel small and worthless. His tyranny and cruelty were what led me to push so hard to become great at basketball. My dad never thought I would amount to anything or had what it took to become a professional player.
So, I proved him wrong. I pushed hard and worked harder. I tried to use the game and my achievements as a crutch to alleviate my depression and anxiety. To replace the pain I felt from my dad’s verbal insults with the love and adoration of fans. But it didn’t work.
Deep inside, I still dealt with the negative self-worth and imposter syndrome. I never felt good enough.
It’s impossible to achieve your way out of something like depression.
And even more difficult to live through a broken heart.
I’ve learned that the hard way.
The only way to deal with a broken heart is to push through it and avoid tearing yourself apart in the process.
