Where did the children go?

Part I:

2017

We gathered in a circle, sharing story after story. I was definitely not keen on going first, so I just listened in. No one was forced to speak, and it seemed like the regulars were the ones doing most of the talking. I couldn’t help but wonder how they felt so at ease. This was my first time here, and honestly, I’m not much of a talker anyway, but I really admired the bravery it took for them to share their experiences.

So many adults, each with their own tales to tell.

The woman leading the group was named Danielle. She spoke softly and had kind eyes. There was something about her that suggested she had faced her share of pain and grief, yet she seemed to have moved beyond the anger and resentment that still loomed over many in the room like dark storm clouds. Danielle also had a playful side, with a sense of humor that made everyone feel a little more at ease. She went around the circle, asking everyone to share a name they preferred (most didn’t use their real names) and any other details they wanted to offer. Most just shared their names and maybe their jobs, if they felt like it.

When it was my turn, I said, "I’m Sam, and I’m a writer." It didn’t take long for someone to ask if I was writing a story about this. I totally got their curiosity; it was a fair question. I replied that I wasn’t there for research and that I wasn’t ready to share just yet. A lot of heads nodded in agreement, as I wasn’t the only newbie who wasn’t ready to open up.

After the meeting wrapped up, there were snacks, but I didn’t stick around for those. I rushed home instead.

That night, sleep was nowhere to be found. I kept tossing and turning in bed, and writing was off the table too. So, I ended up having a pretty dull night, just playing "Merge Dragons" and devouring a pint of my go-to flavor (Vanilla Bean) of ice cream. My mind was racing with thoughts about the night’s events and how far out of my comfort zone the group was. The group had about 20 people, and I really questioned if I could handle that since I was used to just me, my five roommates (only a couple at a time), and my two cats. See, I’ve always been an introvert, and it crept up on me over the years. At first, I’d just get a bit irritable around friends, but eventually, they noticed I had this huge chip on my shoulder. Honestly, I was angry most of the time, and either they got tired of it, or I just found hanging out too exhausting, so I started to pull away until I really felt I had no friends at all and sequestered myself away.

The next morning, after barely sleeping, I made up my mind. I wasn’t going back.

I headed to work, where my routine was pretty much the same every day. I’d wake up, get dressed, and go to my job at an insurance company doing customer service. I was decent at it, and most customers liked me, but I had been struggling a bit with some of the more difficult clients lately. One day, while chatting with a coworker, I joked that “thank goodness I was taking my meds as prescribed, or I might go postal on some of these fools.” Two days later, I found myself in the HR office, getting written up for that comment. I tried to explain it was just a joke and I didn’t mean any harm. I thought, “This is it, I’m getting fired.” But my supervisor stepped in, saying I was just a jokester and that she’d talk to me about keeping it appropriate at work. I felt a wave of relief wash over me, grateful I wasn’t getting fired, and I ended up going home early that day at their suggestion.

Weeks went by, and I found myself constantly angry.

Three weeks later, I headed to the fridge one evening to grab my lunch bag, which was this awesome TARDIS-shaped one. It was Friday, and everyone knew to clear out their lunch items before the end of the day to avoid the custodian tossing them. It was 8 PM, and after putting in three hours of overtime, I opened the fridge only to find my lunchbox—my $50 collectible—had been thrown out. Looking back, I realize I totally overreacted. I was furious and stormed into the custodial department, demanding to know where my TARDIS bag was!

I can't remember everything I said, but it must have sounded pretty intense because the next day, I showed up to work only to find my desk cleared out and I was fired before I even clocked in. I was livid! I probably broke every speed limit on the way home.

.....Then came the instant depression

I was mad at myself, my bosses, and honestly, everyone who ever existed!

After a few weeks of sleepless nights, writer's block, and struggling to find a new job because of my anger and sadness, I decided it was time to seek help. I knew I didn’t want to go back to that group—too many people—but I needed something. I turned to Google and started looking for psychiatrists. I also visited my friend Carla, the nurse practitioner at my doctor's office. I could always confide in her, and since my insurance was about to run out, I figured I should talk to her. Carla was amazing. She might not have been a counselor, but I really felt she had a knack for it. I told her how I was always angry and that my meds didn’t seem to be doing anything. I mentioned I was searching for a female psychiatrist, and she gave me the best advice I’ve ever received: “Sam, go see an LCSW. They’re more like social workers than psychiatrists. A psychiatrist is great for prescribing and managing your meds, but we already handle that here at Dr. Martin's office.” I took her advice and switched up my search to find a female LCSW.

A few days later, I figured I’d let Google help me out, so I grabbed a list of 10 LCSW names from Psychology Today and started looking them up. Almost all of them had Facebook pages. Some shared photos of their kids, partners, pets, and the like. But one caught my eye—a short woman with curly hair, arms wide open in front of a bust of the Statue of Liberty, with a Pride flag overlay. It made me smile. She seemed a bit quirky but genuinely happy, and there was something refreshingly honest about her vibe. I was already drawn to her because of the Pride flag. So, the next day, I gave her a call and set up an appointment. For the first time in ages, I felt a glimmer of hope.

Her name was Racheal.

….....To Be Continued in Part II (I hope you keep reading...)

>>>>PART II is HERE!!<<<<