Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
I needed him to know what was wrong with me, and that sometimes I wasn’t like normal people.
“I’m not normal, though,” I started, keeping my eyes straight ahead, studying the traffic so I wouldn’t have to see the thoughts and feelings cross his face. “I have what is considered a disorder, I guess.”
He waited, not saying anything, so I took that as a positive sign to continue.
“Technically, it’s called cyclothymic disorder.”
He grunted. “Cyclothymic disorder?”
I nodded my head.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
Then I explained a little about what cyclothymic disorder was. “Pretty much it’s a medical disorder that involves unstable moods, behavior, and sometimes relationships.”
I took the chance and looked over at him, but he didn’t look put off by the subject we were discussing. Intrigued, more like it.
He grunted. “So, you’re saying you could’ve just as easily flipped out the night I kept starting that truck instead of being nice about it?”
I laughed. “Yeah. Kind of. Anger isn’t really one of my problems, though it can be if certain things are involved.” I gave him a small smile. “I was more likely to cry on you than to yell.”
“Like what types of things?” he asked.
“Well, my family. People that I love. If they piss me off—or I feel like they pissed me off—they’re going to get it. I have less of a problem sharing my feelings with people that I know will understand if I get too over the top.” I paused. “They’ve had a lot of time to come to terms with my problems. As for me…I’m still trying to come to terms with them.” I paused. “That’s why Janie gets the comics. I love her to death, but damn does her constant need to include me in her shit drive me insane.”
He chuckled. “What else comes with having this disorder?”
I thought about that for a moment, trying to find something that wouldn’t scare him away.
“I overanalyze everything. A text message? Where most people would reply to a text instantly without thought, I take extra time analyzing what they were really trying to convey. It may take me two hours to respond, if I even respond at all.”
He blinked. “Hmmm. What else?”
Continuing, I went about telling him my other problems.
“So, you take naps because they keep you sane and less bitchy. You draw people comics instead of talking to them when you’re pissed. And, you don’t make friends or even trust easily?” he summarized. “Oh, and when you get into one of those depressive moods, it only lasts for a couple of hours.”
I nodded. “Essentially.”
I mean, there were other things that I had symptom-wise, but really, I didn’t want to scare him away by telling him that I’d briefly contemplated suicide before.
That was always a downer.
“Honey,” Coke said gently. “I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to get offended.”
I raised a brow at him and waited for him to enlighten me on what he thought would be offensive to me.
He didn’t disappoint me.
“You just described every single woman in the world. Sure, you may express yourself differently, but every woman is moody. I raised a teenager, remember?” He winked at my smile. “And I hate to tell you this, but I’d take what you just described to me any day, and nine times on Sunday, over having to deal with my ex-wife’s shit. Trust me when I say, your crazy pales in comparison to her crazy.”
I giggled.
“My daughter was trying to decide what to text a guy. I overheard her having this conversation over the phone, so don’t think I’m weird.” He gave me a look that clearly said I might think he was weird anyway despite him telling me not to think so. “She was going on and on about what she should say. The guy said ‘hey.’ They were trying to figure out whether to say ‘hello, how are you’ or if that was too formal. They went on and on about it for like twenty minutes before I’d had enough of it and just told her to text him ‘hey’ back. Then I had to explain to her that guys were simple creatures. He was just reaching out to talk and that was his opener. If she replied with the hey, he’d carry the conversation in the direction that he wanted it to go.”
I snickered. “It’s easier to call, honestly. Anyone besides my mom or dad texts me, that’s what’s going to happen. Even my brother…I have to call him. And it’s hard for me to come off as sincere sometimes because they overthink what I say, too. Wondering what kind of mood I’m really in.”
He groaned. “That sounds like a mess,” he admitted. “But your family sounds like they’re very open and willing to help. That’s more than I can say for some people.” He paused. “Had Frankie had this? My ex-wife would’ve lost her fuckin’ mind.”