I may not have felt 100% in the weeks after I had my first ‘migraines’, but there were no mornings where I couldn’t get out of bed, at least for a while. Not until Keaton’s birthday, which me, Travis, Dani and Jesse had a whole thing planned for. Pretty much out of the blue, I had another of those mornings when I had to lie about having a ‘migraine’ and the boys had to get Robert out of bed to take them to school. I was in bed for the whole day again…Sandy jumped in and got the boys in the afternoon, although that meant Jacob missed a little league practice, which made me feel super guilty. (Remember what I felt like as a kid if you took baseball away from me, for whatever reason.) I knew I absolutely had to get up and get to the bar for Keaton’s birthday…but, as the evening wore on, I just couldn’t. I watched the minutes tick by, but I couldn’t get myself to move. Then I started having all kinds of negative thoughts, like how I was a bad friend to Keaton and didn’t deserve him for a buddy. I finally fell asleep and woke up at 6:55 the next morning, feeling awful about missing the birthday celebration, but otherwise ok.
I won’t go into every day of the next few weeks, since I don’t remember them too well. They all kind of blend together. Let’s just say I had a lot of ‘migraines’, that I missed a Parrots game for the first time in my life…and that Robert made an appointment with a neurologist for me.
That was about a month in the future, as the woman involved was like the head of neurology at Huntington Hospital and Robert was lucky to get me in as soon as he did. Of course, I didn’t need a neurologist…I didn’t know what I needed…and I was hoping that my ‘migraine’ problem could clear up before I had to go see the doctor for a condition I didn’t have.
The weekend after I missed the Parrots game, me and Joyce went up to Santa Barbara for a bridge weekend. Justen finally got over his COVID fears and was entertaining again, which meant a totally formal English-style country house weekend party where the grown-ups played bridge for hours on end… and me and Luke hung out by the pool. Sabrina and Jonas were there, too…and, although the last time I saw her was when the picture of me went on display, she was right back at me and Luke and wanting to “do something” with the two of us.
So she sat out by the pool and sketched while me and Luke kept running around from pool to jacuzzi to cold plunge. We had lunch outside by the pool – sandwiches and a couple beers for Luke’s “cheat day” and lay back on our deck chairs waiting until it was safe to go into the water again. (I still don’t know whether there’s anything to that 20-minute rule, but, after a big and totally awesome sandwich and a beer, you don’t feel like getting back into the water right away anyway.)
Maybe it was the combination of sun, food, beer and already being a little waterlogged, but for some reason I started telling Luke about my ‘migraines’ and how I’ve been feeling. Luke’s a good listener, and he let me talk for a while. I was glad I was finally telling someone about it – Joyce didn’t even know that I was having ‘migraines’ – and, as I was telling Luke my story, I realized just how much I was keeping inside.
When I was done talking, Luke sat up on his deck chair and said:
“Dude, you’re depressed.”
I sat up to face him and started laughing.
“No, I’m not.”
“Hunter, you just spent fifteen minutes describing what it’s like to be in a major depressive episode.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not gonna be one of those straight guys who thinks having mental health issues is gay, are you?,” Luke said, putting his hands over his face.
“And what if I am?”
“Dude, you gotta get help or it’s only gonna get worse.”
“You mean…see a therapist or something?”
“No or something. See a therapist. Do you know how to find one?”
“Then they’re gonna put me on meds like Travis, and…I don’t want to be on psych meds. Travis says they mess with his sex drive and…”
Luke leaned back and banged his head against his deck chair.
“How can someone so cool about so many things be so ignorant about something so basic? Hunter, therapists don’t prescribe medication. You need a psychiatrist for that. They’re MDs. And usually charlatans, but that’s another story, and I don’t want to discourage you from getting help. Besides, from what I know about Travis, he’s gotten better with the right kind of mental health care…”
“Yeah,” I interrupted, “but he’s…”
“Crazy?”
“No…I mean…yeah…he’s got big problems. That bipolar disorder thing. I don’t have that…”
“No,” said Luke, “but you are having mood issues. Justen went through something like that during COVID. That’s one of the reasons why we stopped having guests. I’ve seen all the signs, my boy…and you just described them. Dude…you even said you don’t like ice cream the way you used to, and, no, that’s not because you’re trying to become the second coming of the Vshred guy. You’re already better looking than him anyway, and you know it” I tried to interrupt. He wouldn’t let me. “But no matter how straight and normal you are, you can still have mental health issues. Look at it this way: pretend your brain caught a cold. Wouldn’t you go to a doctor for that?”
That may sound lameass, but it kinda made sense to me.
“Tell you what: two laps, freestyle. If I win, you go to the therapist, no questions asked. If you win, I drop the issue.”
“You’re on,” I said. We’re equally matched as swimmers, so it wasn’t a sure bet. But it was a chance to get him to change the subject.
The race was over pretty fast: we both swam like our lives depended on it. And, ok, I’ll admit it…he somehow kicked my ass by almost half a lap. My only consolation was that it took him like a minute to be able to talk, that’s how hard he was breathing.
“So it’s settled then,” he said, gasping for air. “You look for a therapist as soon as you get back to LA. And, yes, I won’t tell anyone about it. You can keep it a secret as long as you want. It’s something for you to work on with the therapist. And if you need help finding one, I’ll do what I can. Fuck,” he added, still trying to catch his breath.
“I may take you up on that,” I said. “I don’t know the first thing about therapists. I reckon I can ask Travis. He’s at least not going to judge me.”
“That’s not quite the spirit, but it’s a start. I’d look for a straight dude if I were you.”
I thought that went without saying, but Luke continued:
“It’s the best way for you not to worry about them hitting on you. Drag Queen Therapy Hour may sound fun” (no it doesn’t lol), “but when I needed a therapist, I saw a straight one too for exactly that reason.”
“What are you two talking about so seriously?,” said Sabrina, who’d come over to us without our noticing. “I was sketching highly attractive young men frolicking in the water and suddenly the two of you got all serious.”
“Nothing too deep,” I said. If I wasn’t going to tell Joyce that I was going to see a therapist, I certainly wasn’t going to tell Sabrina. “And he owes me a rematch.” I ended the conversation by diving into the pool.
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