Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ played softly in the background.
Mick stared into his schooner, rubbed his chin and shook his head. He sighed as Bazza joined him at the bar table.
Mick bit a fingernail and nodded at the offered schooner as Bazza said:
“Thanks, Mick. Now, you seem to be taking the Brisbane Broncos loss a bit hard.”
Mick let out a deep breath:
“Ahhh, it’s more than that, Bazza. A lot more than that.”
Bazza took a long sip and leaned back:
“Well, I’m happy to listen, Mick. We can talk about the footy another day.”
Mick’s eyes skirted the bar, he leaned in and lowered his voice:
“Well, it’s not really pub talk, Bazza. It’s personal.”
Bazza cradled his chin and fixed his gaze on Mick:
“Well, I don’t think there should be any rules on pub topics, Mick. In fact, I reckon we spend too much time role-playing everyone’s expectations of ‘being a bloke’. You know... rubbishing one another or just talking meaningless crap for an hour or two. Anyhow, give it a go, Mick.”
Mick tapped his chin and furrowed his brow for a long moment before taking a deep breath:
“Well, you see, Bazza... you just need one thing to go wrong and it multiplies. The domino effect kicks in. Everything crashes down in ways you least expect and before you know it, life takes a serious turn for the worse. Now, I don’t seem to be able to concentrate on anything else. I have a lack of motivation to the point mundane tasks become Herculean.”
Bazza pursed his lips:
“Just start wherever you feel comfortable, Mick.”
A long pause.
When you're weary,
Feeling small,
When tears are in your eyes.
I'll dry them all,
I'm on your side,
Oh, when times get rough,
And friends just can't be found.
Mick started the same sentence a number of times, paused and took short breaths. Thoughts then tumbled out in no particular order and bounced around randomly. At times, Mick struggled to make connections and his tone covered every emotion from anger to resignation. At other times, his eyes glistened and his voice wavered with emotion.
Mick connected with the softness in Bazza’s eyes and spoke more freely. He took longer breaths as he now unscrambled the problems and the consequences.
He finally leaned back and took a sip of his schooner:
“So there you go, Bazza. My mental Rubik’s Cube.”
Another long pause.
When you're weary,
Feeling small,
When tears are in your eyes.
I'll dry them all,
I'm on your side,
Oh, when times get rough,
And friends just can't be found.
Bazza rubbed his forehead.
“You have got a fair bit going on there, Mick. I reckon you need to focus on the things you can control. It might be the task at hand or the project you have set yourself for the morning. You can build on the sense of achievement that comes with completion. Use that confidence to tackle a more complex task. Just take your time and be kind to yourself. You know... reward yourself.”
Mick rubbed his eyes:
“And the stuff I can’t control, Bazza?”
Bazza made eye contact and paused.
“Reach out, Mick. Today was a good start. And see your doctor about some professional help.”
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will ease your mind.
John Longhurst is a former industrial advocate and political adviser. He currently works as an English and History teacher on the South Coast of NSW.
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