Narcolepsy, dating and relations – By Grant Beach.
So, I rarely ever post on internet due to how “busy” (lazy?) I am, but as I sit here on my porch, basking in the Atlanta sun, smoking my cigarette and drinking a beer (chocolate milk, I’m sorry I lied) I felt inspiration engulf and wash over me.
So, I’m going to carve off a little slice of the internet and put my thoughts to font for a second.
I met my beautiful girlfriend Jackie well over a year ago. We met on Tinder of all places. I know, I know. Tinder is what happens when you feed eharmony a Bud-Lite Lime-a-Rita after midnight. Neither of us were looking for anything more than going heel’s to Jesus with a hot person. However, when I met her, something inside me began to hum. Over time that hum turned into a symphonic scream that I couldn’t turn off. I didn’t want to. I was fucking hooked. And what made it even more exceptionally bad-ass, so was she.
Admittedly, I had just came out of yet another 6 month stint in county and was only able to muster just enough energy to fully commit to my substance abuse. I was like Noah in the Notebook, if Noah grew up in a Methadone clinic. I was far from a prize. I was a tin foil ring at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box, but I had potential. Yeah, I had potential. Throughout it all she saw something in me. An illumination of the soul I guess. Not so much a glimmer, but a super nova of sorts that I shut out completely. The turning point was when she sat me down, batted those beautiful lashes and expertly convinced me to get a sleep study done.
I knew something was wrong internally since I was a kid, but like most Irish males I just chose to live with something being wrong until I was a corpse. So, reluctantly I went. She was a saint through it. While I was hooked up to a plethora of electrodes and wires, looking like a science experiment, like the fucking Lawnmower Man, she stayed by me. She stayed by me through everything. Through my CONSTANT nightly battles with sleep paralysis, where I would leap out of bed confused and disoriented, not even knowing where I was; she stayed when I would basically fall asleep mid conversation repeatedly; she even stayed when I would become vehemently agitated at my obsessively persistent grogginess and was not entirely lovable in the moment. She stayed with me. She never missed an opportunity to plant kisses on my forehead and run delicate fingers across my back.
This isn’t a story about how I lost someone who was always there for me. This isn’t a musing about how you never know what you have until it is gone. Fuck that. I’ve been the main protagonist in plenty of those stories for way too long. What I did was change. Not who I was as an individual, but my non working patterns that kept me from shining. I have been sober over a year. I have a job. I have good, supportive friends, I have stayed out of trouble and kept my nose clean all the while showing her how much I love, like, appreciate and respect her verbally, physically and emotionally every god damn day in my life. I am receiving my first batch of Xyrem soon. Another notch in the ol’ belt of taking charge of my life. We have a beautiful apartment filled with laughter, tears, sex and random nerf gun battles and I couldn’t be more copacetic.
If I had one piece of advice it would be to never take ANYONE for granted. That love is not guaranteed to be there when you wake up. You have to work for that shit. Water it every day and keep swimming.
PS – If you swipe Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A on Tinder you unlock your soulmate.