Some days, it felt like time was running out.
I don’t know why it felt like that, but it did for me.
I felt like I had to go back soon. But go back where? To the States? No, I didn’t want to go back there. Something kept telling me I should, that I needed to. But there was another part of me that fought it so badly, like I’d be walking into a world of pain if I even considered the idea. My breath would get short, I’d start warming up. All the signs of panic attack. I had to keep the thoughts out of my head, rationalize, calm myself like my therapist told me.
Easier said than done of course.
I was walking along the side of the road to my therapy session. I really did need a car, but those also brought along the panic attacks. Or at least the beginning symptoms. I’d find myself rationalizing how it was easier not to get one. It worked on a basic level, but deep down I knew it was just another issue to add to the list. That list was getting pretty long. The top of it though, had my dreams. I had no idea what to make of any of them anymore. They seemed to be of myself, another me, another life.
Maybe it’s the life I wish I had?
Look at me, trying to play psychologist.
But my life just felt empty, despite everything. Maybe it’s because I still had virtually no one outside of Carlie. There were coworkers I had of course. But to be honest I wasn’t exactly friends with any of them. They were more acquaintances. It’s another reason why I needed therapy I supposed. I’m the kind of guy who loves to have people around him. I enjoyed their company, sometimes fed off of the attention. Yet, when any of them ever invited me to their place to hang out or to go to a local bar to relax, I always found a reason not to. I felt afraid to. Nothing like my panic attacks, but just nervous at the idea of letting someone into my life.
There’s so much wrong with me.
The walk wasn’t a long one and the day was one of the better ones. New Year’s Eve was today, and it was making me think a lot about how things changed for me. Like living here, a place I thought I would never go to, but found to be my sanctuary. Honestly if it hadn’t been for their recent policy change on new residents, I wouldn’t be. I was thankful for it. This was a place that I found peaceful and soothing. Also, of course, I met Carlie. That was another thing I was trying to work out. My feelings for her. I really liked her. She was sweet, uplifting, so firm in the idea of faith. It was a rarity.
I never understood how people could look upon the beauty in the world and not see God.
I approach my therapists office soon enough. It’s not really an office as much as a refurbished home turned into an office. I walk in and sit on the couch in what was once someone’s living room. I wonder how many sessions it will take before she figures out what’s wrong with me. Then again, I’m lucky there’s someone here to help me at all. Ten years ago, there weren’t any psychologists in Tristan Da Cunha. Only recently have they been catching up with the world around them outside.
Dr. Woo stepped out of the office not too long after I got there. She, unlike her husband, was not blonde and fair skinned. She had darker, tanned skin and long wavy hair that reminded me of ravens, it was that dark. Her blue eyes watched me, friendly in their gaze. I stood and followed her into the next room, getting comfortable upon yet another couch. It always struck me funny, laying back in the perfect therapy stereotype. All I needed was a guy with a beard and a weird accent helping me instead.
“How are we today Brian?”
I blinked. What did she call me?
“Brendan? Are you all right?”
I shook my head. “Sorry, I thought you said something else.” I smiled, unsure why I decided not to explain. “I’m doing better today.”
“Have you been able to remember anything more recently?”
“No, I try and all I’m able to do is give myself a headache.”
Her eyes a narrowed a bit as she wrote something down. Part of me wanted to go up and see her notes. Was she able to get any clues about me? About why my own past seemed a mystery to me ever since my parents’ accident? That could explain some of the dreams, why I dreamed of car wrecks. But why was I in them instead? Why did I see myself doing crazy things I know couldn’t be true? With people I couldn’t possibly have known?
Why couldn’t I tell any of this to Dr. Woo?
“Have you had any triggers, something that may seem familiar even if you’re unable to place why?”
“Sometimes, with Carlie, I feel like I shouldn’t be around her.” I finally confessed. “I love being around her, but I feel guilty.”
“You think there may be a reason to that?”
“I thought it could just be because of my own issues.”
She chewed on her pen thoughtfully. I glanced around the familiar room. It was cozy in here with the needlework displayed proudly on the walls. It made me curious if she did any of it herself. I liked that sort of thing. I was raised in Kentucky; of course I was used to anything that reminded me of my old home back there. It wasn’t some tiny small town, it was one of the biggest cities, but part of growing up there was the southern charm that permeated everything.
I blinked. I was raised in Kentucky. I hadn’t moved here from there though, I’d moved here from Atlanta, Georgia. The place where I thought I had been born. I strained to remember more, I could hear Dr. Woo asking me something else but I tuned her out. Images, memories, I could feel them. But they were fuzzy, unclear, nothing I could focus in on. A stab of pain throbbed suddenly in my head and I winced as it almost brought tears to my eyes. Now my headache grew and I knew it wouldn’t be long before it became a migraine.
All because I remembered where I was truly from.
None of it made any sense.
“Brendan?”
Brian? There it was again, the voice from my dreams – melodic and beautiful. Now, it became the voice in my head.
“Brendan?”
Brian?
Confusion filled me. For a moment I couldn’t remember where I was. Why I was here. Questions floated through my mind but fled before I could grasp any of them. I felt my heart race, my breathing quicken. I glanced around, as if I knew someone should be there with me. Someone younger. Crazy thoughts, all of them. I saw myself elsewhere, in a home I didn’t recognize, laughing at someone beyond my vision. I was happier, happier than I had ever been recently. Part of me wanted to be that happy again sometime.
I shook my head again quickly, reminded myself of what I was doing. Therapy. That was why I was here. I wanted to remember things. I wanted to know why I blocked out big pieces of my life after my parents’ death. Why panic attacks came randomly. Why I almost went into one just now at the mere recall of the place I’d grown up.
My name is Brendan Thompson. I’m thirty-eight years old. It’s about to become 2011. I’m here trying to get therapy so that I can live in peace. I’m still recovering from the fact my only family is dead. Everything is okay. I’m alright. I have to be.
“Brendan?” She called frantically; I hadn’t noticed she was at my side now, her gaze filled with concern. “Are you alright?”
“I’m sorry…I just, your needlework…”
“Yes?” She smiled comfortingly, a welcoming smile that made me feel like I could tell her everything. Even though I knew I wouldn’t let myself.
“It reminded me of home.”
“Atlanta?”
“No, that’s the thing. I thought I was born there, or assumed I was I guess. It came to me when I noticed it. I was born in Kentucky, I grew up there.”
“Do you remember what city?”
“When I tried to remember more…”
She nodded, “Your body tried to shut down. I think what your mind is doing is giving you selective amnesia to protect you from something. I don’t know what just yet, but it would explain your panic attacks and why when you get closer to regaining some of it, your body fights back. It’s like it put a padlock on your memories because subconsciously, you feel it’s dangerous for you to know. Was this the first time you remembered something new?”
I hesitated. Now would be the time to tell her about my dreams. Dreams that had to be memories mixed in with fantasy. I mean, what else could they be? I knew I should. I knew it would help. Dr. Woo could help me separate the truth from the fantasy. Yet, my mouth opened with a will of its own, and answered on my behalf.
“Yeah, that was the first time.”
I only wished I understood why I lied.
