Peter
I did pity Peter as being an outcast when I saw him in the halls during high school. I did not want to have anything to do with Peter for I thought he was weird because his glasses had thick lens that looked like ice blocks and you could see his eyeballs enlarged at the lens as if they could fall through at any minute. Peter’s nose was rather large and his hair was messy as if he did not find a way to tame his thick black curls. Maybe he did not care or that no one in his home cared about his appearance. When we did cross paths, I had the nerve to feel embarrassed as if I was the one being popular and believed he was not good enough for me to be seen with. However, I could not be mean to him even if I tried for he was always happy to see me. I just did not get it at the time why would a weirdo be glad to see me. Whenever Peter did see me, he was laughing during our encounters even when I did not say anything to him. Peter nodded his head as he mentioned about the teachers we knew and laughed out loud. My guess was that either he had a nervous tick or he might have thought I looked silly with my bulky hearing aids behind the ears and my body wobbling a bit from head to toe as I have mild cerebral palsy as if I was once a bobbling toy on a dashboard that came alive.
A hearing student I knew from class saw me talking with Peter once and he said to me, “Mike, why are you talking with him? He is weird!” I just shrugged my shoulders for I did not have an answer for him except that his question bothered me. I did not dare tell him that he was an idiot and a pothead that the more he smoked the dumber he was. I knew I was struggling with my own social interactions with hearing students as my deafness was an obstacle to have a fluent conversation with them. Peter and I were lonely dudes when we did not interact with each other. I am sure a hearing person would feel just as lonely if she or he lands in a deaf school as a minority. Imagine the frustration the hearing student would experience in a deaf school especially when she or he does not know sign language.
I was not really much of help to Peter for not only I felt uncomfortable hanging out with him because of his spontaneous guffaws and repeating the same conversations each time we met, but that I barely showed up for classes. I was in denial of suffering from depression, a mental illness that led me to be suicidal. When I showed up after some weeks being absent for Horticulture class, my little garden was absolutely dead with dried leaves laying flat on the ground. I believed it was because I did not have a green thumb. It did not occur to me then that I was spending more time at home hiding in my bed, that my plants died from neglect.
I saw Peter again in college one night outside of the dormitory in our freshman year and he did not seem himself during our short conversation. He mentioned that he was a follower of Jesus Christ which confused me because he grew up Jewish and not once did he ever mentioned the Christian God with me in high school. I knew from talking with Peter for a few minutes that he had been sadly brainwashed and his soul was lost. He left shortly after that for I did not see him again on campus.
By chance, fate or faith, I met Peter’s uncle at the store near home during winter break from college in my third year as he noticed my hearing aids and asked me if I knew Peter. I learned Peter had to leave college due to a psychotic breakdown and was admitted as an inpatient at a psychiatric hospital for roughly about two years. He had a rough life even in childhood for he had been abused. I felt bad for him and wished him well as if I was just fine. I was still in denial of my own life being in shambles.
In 2012, I had my first trip to the psychiatric hospital as an inpatient and since then, I have been on medication which is a lifesaver for me for I am able to understand just how insane my life was without it. I no longer sleep my days away. I embrace them by being with my two children, joking with my wife, and get out of my self-pity by thinking of others like my old high school pal, Peter.
By chance, fate, or faith, I ran into his uncle again not long ago as I visited my hometown and he showed me a picture of him on his Facebook page.
When I saw that Peter smiled, I smiled too.
About the Author:
I, Mike Dorsey, have cerebral palsy and deafness. I am a stay home dad of two kids, Phillip, 10 and Kara 7. I hope I can show them I have talent other than finding a lost remote control. My best form of contact is via email,
dorseymsw@gmail.com
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