“You either love me or you hate me. There is no in between.” So said the more than 20 times engaged Real Housewife of New Jersey – and complete train wreck – Danielle Staub. Never in my wildest dreams would I ever compare myself to her, but sadly, that tagline most resembles me. What that says about me, comparing myself to someone I just described as a train wreck, is neither here nor there. (My actual favorite Housewife tagline, which I also think resembles me, belongs to beloved writer Carole Radzwille – “In the marathon of life, loyalty is the most important.”)
Knowing all this, might make this my toughest column to write – it will straddle the lines between self-awareness, self-deprecation, and self-esteem. Let me be clear in saying that I am happy with who I am, I genuinely like myself; however, this is about being the best version of myself.
In order to continue this marathon of life and be this best version , I started to do something I swore I would never do: I put myself on daily medication.
The comment “OMG, you are so funny. You know who you remind me of – Mario Cantone!” So begins a typical night out in a bar with friends. Almost every night, like clockwork, I am told how funny I am. I also get my friends hooked up all the time even though I’m the one who talks to people, makes them laugh, and brings them into our group. As far as hooking up, it usually doesn’t pan out for me. No one wants to fuck funny.
Extra. Hyper. Manic. Animated. Chatty. Excited. Excitable. Intense. These are all words used to describe me. Some are compliments. Some aren’t. One can always tell the difference between the two. And Iam told multiple times a day to “relax,” “calm down,” “chill out, man.” But inside, I am calm. I am relaxed. There seems to be a disconnect between what I present and what others see.
I don’t want to paint this sad, terrible portrait of myself and my life. I have friends, always have. As I mentioned at the beginning of this column, you either love me or you don’t. But as I have gotten older, the balance between love and hate has been tipping less towards love and more towards the not.
It even impacts my actual friends when they are asked, “What’s up with your friend Robert?” or “What’s he on?” or “Is he ok?” as I get older, those questions are coming way too often as well. Everything is connected, part of the race if you will.
Enter medication. Turns out words like “extra” and “animated” are not just potential compliments but in medical speak they mean adult ADHD, hyperactivity disorder, and social anxiety. And as a bonus, As I have gotten older, the symptoms have progressed significantly.
I am not quiet. I am not serene. I am not centered. I am not introspective. I am not subtle. I am not tranquil. I am not elusive. I am not still. I am not soft. I am not discreet.
I am loud. I am boisterous. I am raucous. I am jittery. I am constantly in motion. I am edgy. I am nervous. I am anxious. I am tumultuous. I am uneasy. I am jumpy. I am neurotic.
In my 20s and 30s, when I was younger, cuter, these qualities came off more endearing. In my 40s, I have grown, I look different, and my face has changed. These qualities translate differently.
They impede relationships, especially new relationships. They impede job opportunities. It has started to take a definite toll on every aspect of my life.
Things began to change for the better for me when I moved back to NYC last December. I rejoined the amazing Callen Lorde Community Health Center in Chelsea. “Callen-Lorde is the global leader in LGBTQ+ healthcare. Since the days of Stonewall, we have been transforming lives in LGBTQ+ communities through excellent, comprehensive care, provided free of judgment and regardless of ability to pay. Which gave me a perspective on life that I haven’t had before or was not willing to see.
Working with my psychiatrist, we came up with a daily medication regimen that fits my needs and wants. He is an absolute godsend. When I described my feelings, how I saw myself, how I felt others saw me, he listened and he said ok. He didn’t tell me I was overreacting or I was crazy or that I wasn’t feeling what I was feeling. I felt seen and acknowledged. Which, sadly, isn’t the norm.
So, what’s next? The medication is doing its job. I don’t feel drugged out or spacy but am actually feeling better and sleeping better. I recently ran into a friend I haven’t seen in years a and he said he saw a difference immediatley. And it was very obvious to me this time, that this was indeed A compliment.
I am in no way expecting this medical cocktail to be a magic fix for me. Yes, I said cocktail. Ironic isn’t it? They call the medicine regime you are on your cocktail. And just like when you were in your 20’s, it might take a minute to find the cocktail that works best for you, but keep going. I could write an entire series on this alone! I am not perfect, this cocktail won’t make me the perfect friend or boyfriend and people may still hate me, but it makes the marathon a little easier. Besides Perfect is boring, as RuPaul says.
Robby, aka Mario, aka not perfect but trying, from Brooklyn, signing out. Until next time, readers!
(this column was originally published in the July edition of “Letters from Camp Rehoboth.)
The Gays of our Lives 