Part 1

You stumble out to the old beater sitting in the driveway.  The paint, or what’s left of it is faded and peeling on the hood and the roof where they sit in the sunlight all day.   The bottom half looks like a cross between the world’s worst cheese grater and some combination of brown chips without the salsa.  Rust is growing like a cancer, turning every bit of exposed metal into a brown flakey substance that threatens to send parts flying off your car at every bump or every corner.  Despite all this, you’re really not all that worried.  The rust has been there for years, you’ve only paid a couple hundred dollars for the entire car, so rust and paint peeling off is not even worth worrying about. 

You walk out, hold your breath and lift the door up while simultaneously pulling on the handle to open the driver’s door.  Up, because the hinges sag, holding your breath because the door handle has a tendency to pop loose from the connector rod inside the door shell.  It all works this time though, and you squirm your way across the lumpy seat cushion, mostly metal frame at this point in time.  Slam the door, dig your keys out of your pocket, and you’re finally ready to start the old car.  You turn the key, hold it for several seconds longer than is recommended, but you know better than anyone, the car’s worn out.  It takes longer to start than a good car, than an expensive car. 

Finally, with a rattle and a lot of shakes, your engine comes to life, not with a roar but a sputter.  You start going through your predrive checklist in your head.  It’s not so much a conscious thing, as it is subconsciously; you’ve been driving for decades now.  Buckle the seatbelt.  Foot on the brake.  Shifter to reverse, ease on the gas, and start to back out of the parking spot.  Except something brings you out of your reverie.  You put your foot back on the brake, and stop the car.  Something’s not right. 

You sit there and listen for a few minutes, trying to hear, feel or smell whatever the issue is.  Finally you realize what it is.  There’s a knocking sound that’s new.  It’s not super loud, but it’s there.  There’s a bit more vibration to the engine this morning as well.  A grimace attaches itself to your face as you realize what that knocking probably means.  You’ve got a rod knocking.  Don’t know why, whether it’s a lack of oil, a rod journal went bad, a bearing, who knows.  The only thing you do know is that if you ignore the knock too long, you’re going to be replacing the motor.  And since a used junkyard motor is still more than what the car is worth, now you’ve got a decision to make. 

What does this have to do with anything?  Like a motor, if we ignore the signs and symptoms that something is wrong in our lives, whether it’s physical, mental or spiritual, it can eventually turn from a minor nuisance into a major issue.  It’s what happened to me.  It’s why I’m where I’m at now, two therapists later, with no good answers, and a severe lack of trust in the mental health profession as a whole.  So how did I get here?  And now that I’m here, now what?  I’ll get there, but not in this article.  Partly because it’s too much to type, and partly because in order to get somewhere, you have to know where you come from.  So I’ll have to go back in time to understand what got me to where I’m at now. 

Just remember.  Don’t do what I did and ignore the signs.  Do something about them early on, and if something doesn’t happen, keep trying.  Don’t ignore them, because they’re not just going to go away on their own.  They’ll grow, and fester, like mold in the dark, until one day when you want to take care of that problem, you open the cabinet door and the whole thing is covered in mold. 

NEXT: Hopper’s Journey Part II >