Page 38 of The Attack Zone

This cannot be happening. I cannot be depressed right now. I have things to do. Games to win. Incredible women to fuck. Why would I possibly be depressed?

Because you have bipolar disorder. This time it’s my own voice trying to reason with me. I know I’m right. I know this is just one of those things that happens. But I also know that I probably triggered it somehow. Like the moron I am.

I think back over the past week. I’ve been taking my meds, I’ve been eating well, I’ve spent time with people and done things I care about ... but I’ve spent every night with Stacey. Not only has it completely fucked with my sleep schedule, but it’s also messed with my routine. Big time.

Great.

I can’t even sleep with a beautiful woman without triggering an episode.

Just once I’d love to be able to be a normal NHL player. Or at least party past midnight. But no, instead I’m stuck with strict schedules and rules that dictate every damn moment of my life, just so I don’t lose my everloving shit and wind up hospitalized, or so depressed I think unthinkable thoughts.

The water continues to pour down around me and I feelmyself getting heavier and heavier. Finally, I manage to lather up some shampoo in my hands, but I can’t even bring it to my hair for far too long. It just sits on my hands all sudsy and bubbly.

Eventually I get myself clean enough to face the light of day, turn off the shower, and stand there for a few minutes letting the water drip off of me. Once the cold air has infiltrated the shower, I’m forced to grab a towel and dry off. I put on a pair of jeans and a sweater, not bothering to fix my hair or trim my beard. I’m already late and I honestly can’t be bothered to give a shit right now.

I open the door and find Thomas leaning against the wall just outside the bathroom. I must have really looked like shit if he didn’t even feel like he could sit on the couch. Goddammit. I hate being a burden to people.

“Are you up for going to breakfast?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “I need to get outside, I think.”

I always resist leaving my hotel room or condo when I feel like this, but every time I do I feel better. And like it or not, I have a game to play today. The team is counting on me. I need to get my head on straight, and fast.

We arrive at a local smoothie bowl spot in Buffalo and place our orders at the counter before finding a table in the corner. I haven’t said much since we met up with Caleb in the lobby. He knows I have bipolar, but he hasn’t seen a depressive episode up close and personal, and I’m not sure I’m ready to show that to him just yet. It’s bad enough that Thomas had to literally pick me up off the floor and drag me to a game our first season playing together. Since then, he’s been my rock, but I feel so guilty every time this happens. I’m not his responsibility.

Right now, as much as I know I needed to get outside, I’m dreading this conversation the three of us are about to have.Usually, I love our heart-to-hearts when we’re away from Colorado. It’s how I really got to know Caleb, and it’s continued to bring Thomas and I together as friends.

“Who wants to go first?” Thomas asks.

Neither Caleb nor I say anything. Me because I’m depressed, and presumably Caleb is anxious too. We really make a crack team. You’d never know that we’ll probably be two of the best players on the ice tonight based on who we are off of it.

“I’m ...” I start. “I ...” I try again. “I don’t think I’m doing great,” I finally say.

“Okay,” says Caleb. “What’s going on?”

“I just feel a little off,” I say, but it’s not the whole truth. I’d expect the truth from Caleb and Thomas, though, so I dig deep and clear my throat. “No. I’m depressed. I’m having an episode.”

“How bad is it?” Caleb asks.

I look down at my coffee and try to find the words to respond.

“It’s not great,” Thomas chimes in for me. “But he’s out of bed, so step number one is already complete. Just gotta keep moving forward.”

“I don’t know if I can.” It slips out before I can stop it. Admitting defeat isn’t normally my thing, but right now all I want is to crawl into a hole.

“You can,” Thomas says. “You’ve been worse than this and you’ve gotten through it.”

“It’s amazing that you manage this while being a pro,” Caleb says.

“I could say the same thing about you,” I say, hoping I might be able to change the subject.

“Don’t change the subject,” Thomas says. Well, okay then. “Now, I’m going to ask you a question that you hate when you’re like this. But I have to, and I need you to try to not bite my head off.”

“Yes, I’ve been taking my meds,” I say begrudgingly.

“Okay,” Thomas says. “That’s good.”

“I just haven’t been sleeping well,” I say.