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Unread 01-10-2019, 09:54 AM
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Historian Historian is offline
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Join Date: Nov 2009
Location: Indiana
Posts: 2,612

I took a bite of my chicken parmesan sandwich. I was alone at my table. The restaurant was near empty. I took another bite of my sandwich. While I wasnít wrestling anymore, I still tried to eat relatively healthy. This was an exception. Chicken Parmesan sandwich, french fries topped with warm marinara sauce and a sprinkle of cheese. An ice cold Pepsi. My comfort food.

I didnít need comfort for any professional reason. Business was going well. We were successful. We were consistently drawing near 3,000 fans -- our last several shows had all been sell outs. Creatively, I was as inspired as I had ever been. It was just one of those days. One of those days that society, at least my generation of society, isnít supposed to talk about. One of those days where you donít want to get out of the bed. You want to just run from the world and responsibilities. One of those days where the medicine really didnít help much.

On these days, I eat chicken parmesan and fries smothered with delicious goodness. On these days, I sat at a booth by myself and tried to ignore the rest of the world. I took another bite and chased it with a swallow of Pepsi. This had been a battle I had been fighting since I was fourteen. Back then, no one said anything. Youíd get a stigma with the diagnosis. So I learned to push it deep. I wasnít until the mid 2000ís that I got an actual diagnosis and got on medicine. Before that it had all been self medication. I wasnít the only one to live like that. To hide the illness in the closet. To be ashamed of it -- or to be ashamed to talk about it at the very least. There were lots of us in the Ďrassliní business. It seemed to attract us like flies. Maybe itís because we could hide in plain sight. We could play the star on the television or in the ring and hide how we really felt. I was used to hiding in plain sight.

I dipped my fork into my fries so I could get a mouthful. Business was going good. Family life was going good. I was happy -- except today I wasnít. I ate another bite of my sandwich and then my fries. Today wasnít a day I could focus on business. Today wasnít a day I could bring myself to care about booking or production or training. This is why it was good to have Joel and Riley and Marjorie. On days where I was fighting a losing battle, they helped me fight. They gave me space. They checked in on me, but they handled things when I mentally couldnít. Today, I was afforded the space and time I needed and I was grateful. I took another bite of my sandwich. I took a deep breath. It was going to be okay. I *knew* that. I was going to be okay. I was okay.
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