The Masks Must Go

William Flores, LMSW About 2,400 Words 

140 Darrow Place, 17E

Bronx, NY 10475

347-605-5027

wflores1952@gmail.com

Note: This story contains topics concerning mental health and substance abuse which might have triggering effects on some readers.

` The Masks Must Go

By William Flores

“Good morning Mr Diaz. Members of the board of directors, and some of our investors, are gathered in the conference room. They’re eager to congratulate you on your latest success, winning the National Therapist of the Year Award.”

“Thank you Sonia. I couldn’t have done it without you. Your the best assistant in the business. Let everyone know I’ll be there momentarily. I want to freshen up a bit.”

“Okay, any thing else?”

“No, thank you.”

Frank Diaz, “President of Psychotherapy Now” locked his office door behind him, and went straight to his desk to retrieve the cocaine hidden inside. He trembled while setting up three fat lines to inhale. He knew his assistant would be summoning him soon, so he had to quickly consume as much as possible to stop his physical tremors. He inhaled three more lines, cleaned his nose in the mirror, and felt his anxiety waning as he headed towards the conference room. 

“Thank you everyone for coming here today to share in our success. It’s an honor for me to receive this professional recognition, but moreover, it shows what we can accomplish together. This award belongs to all of us since I could not have succeeded without you. Words cannot express my gratitude for all your support and encouragement over the years.” 

He sees Sonia waving to him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Unfortunately, I must leave you now since my next patient has arrived. Again, thank you, and remember, we are the psychotherapy outfit that wins.” 

Everyone applauded heartily.

Back in the privacy of his office, a sense of guilt steadily rose within him. Diaz knew he had to get control over his addiction before it came to the attention of those around him, and he’d loose everything. However, in complete denial, he foolishly would tell himself, no one was the wiser, that his success proved it so.

“Sonia, please schedule this patient’s next appointment for two weeks from today, and bill him for the next four sessions. I have to meet my wife Connie for lunch. I’ll be back after three this afternoon.”

“Sure, may I talk with you before you leave?”

“Of course, come to my office.”

“Mr Diaz, I know its none of my business, but I have to inform you. Two of our investors asked if you were okay, and mentioned how hyper you’ve been lately. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine Sonia.Thanks for your concern, I’m a bit tired, but there’s no need for worry. I’m good.”

“Well, if you say so Sir. You know you can talk with me about anything, right?”

“Sure Sonia, I know. Thanks again.”

#

Diaz’ anxiety rocketed over lunch, obsessing on what his investors knew concerning cocaine addiction, and about their inquiries into his earlier behavior. Though he wanted his time with his wife to be pleasant, Diaz had to finish up quickly so he could meet with his drug connection in the Bronx. Deep down, he knew he couldn’t go on much longer using drugs, nor could he go on without using them. He shuttered to think, how long would it be before he’s exposed. 

“Are you enjoying your lunch Dear?”

  “Yes Frankie, very much. Thanks for the date. We need to spend more time together like this, don’t you agree Honey?”

“Yes we do Dear. Maybe tonight we can do something. You know how busy I’ve been with work. This was very nice, and the food is great. Unfortunately, an unexpected appointment came up that I must make. I’ll have to catch up with you later Dear.”

“But you’ve hardly eaten your meal.”

“Its okay, I’m not hungry. I need to leave. Let me walk you to your car.”

Diaz saw the disappointment on Connie’s face. He told himself she’d get over it, that she’d understand, because his business concerns were important for the both of them. He promised he’d be home early, and take her out for dinner. As he watched her drive off, he could feel his stomach bubbling. He knew what time it was. He consumed the last of his cocaine while sitting in his vehicle. The gram he’d stashed in his office was gone now, and he needed to get uptown to score.

Bruckner Boulevard was a mess, traffic jammed from end to end, backed up for a two hour wait. Diaz couldn’t believe how long it took him to make the twenty minute trip. His last hit was beginning to wear off, and his nose started bleeding droplets onto his suit jacket. He cleaned up before entering the trap house.

#

“What’s up man, how you been Diaz, everything alright?”

“Yea, I’m good Duppy. You straight? I need five ounces of that raw product you sold me last time I was here. You know, that Bolivian Flake.”

“When have you known me to be out of product son? Tell me.”

“Never, you’re always holding.”

“Let me bag up your order. I’ll be right back.”

Diaz hung out in the cop spot with Duppy for the next fifteen hours. He forgot about the prior commitments he made to his wife, and assistant. All he could focus on was getting high. He consumed one of the grams he bought initially, and purchased another half of an ounce before leaving Duppy, early the next morning. Diaz reached home around 6:00am, by this time he’d lost all control over his compulsive facial twitches and teeth grinding, when he entered his house. Lucky for him Connie was still asleep. He undressed, and crawled into bed without waking her.

#  

Later that evening, Diaz and his wife shared their excitement over his appearing on a television talk show to discuss his work and latest award. They were scheduled to arrive at the studio in four hours, at 8:00pm. This gave Diaz enough time to sober up. After Connie laid out the outfit he’d wear to the show, they ate dinner, drank wine, and sat around talking.

“So how did your business go last night? I didn’t hear you when you came in.”

“It went well. The usual, going over contracts and laying out future plans for the business. We talked about how we should start looking to open up another clinic out of state.”

“Oh that sounds terrific Honey. What’s the target date?”

  “Its all in the planning stages at the moment. I’ll let you know what happens. It looks good though. Its going to happen for sure. There’s just some minor steps that have to be gone over before we can move to open up another facility. Howard from the board has already gotten a three million dollar commitment for startup, and the bank is in for another million dollars.”

“That’s so great Frankie. I’m so proud of you Honey. Let’s toast to our success, and the new venture.

“Bottoms up dear, we’re almost there.”

Frank Diaz was at the pinnacle of his success. He worked long and hard to reach the professional and financial outcomes he’d won. He felt as though no one could touch him now. Diaz knew his appearance on the televised show this evening would place him on an even higher professional level. The sky was the limit for this forty year old executive, and his wife.

“Let me go over some notes in the study for this evening’s show Dear. I’ll be out in about an hour or so.”

“No problem Honey. Do your thing. I’m going to take a bath and get ready.”

“Great, Talk to you later baby.”

Diaz locked the door to the study and cracked open his stash. He knew he had to be cool tonight, and not get too high; he just wanted to take the edge off his feelings. He was anxious about the evening, and how it would turn out. By the time he’d finished reviewing his notes and powdering his nose, he was feeling mellow, without a care in the world. He told himself he was ready for the big time.

On the ride to the studio, Diaz and Connie were happy, holding hands and trading kisses in the limo. After he secured a seat upfront for Connie, Diaz went backstage to get his make- up and hair done. He also took a couple of small hits of cocaine in the bathroom before the program began. Seated on a panel with another professional, the head Psychiatrist of a New Haven, Connecticut hospital, he heard the Director call out: “Action,” and they were off and rolling on air. After the Psychiatrist gave his credentials and talked about his medical practice, the Host turned to Diaz:

“Tell us Mr Diaz, how were you able to win such a prestigious national award in the field of Mental Health, and run a private clinic all at the same time?”

“As you well know, I’ve been in the field a long time, over twenty years, and have worked with a variety of populations over this span of time. My specialty is providing preventive and treatment services to individuals and families addicted to drugs and alcohol. I must admit, it’s a tough business yet worthwhile.”

Applauds rung out from the audience. Connie was clapping along with others. The host continued with Diaz.

“Isn’t it heartbreaking though to know that the rate of success within this population is very low. Isn’t the prognosis poor for most? How does it affect you personally Mr. Diaz, when your patients relapse, or dies from their affliction?”

“Its heartbreaking for certain. No one can deny it. But in order to be effective, one must have hope for their patients. There is always hope, isn’t there? For without it, where would we be? Hope and compassion, along with well honed clinical skills in the talk therapies, are necessary tools Clinicians must have in order to be effective with patients in recovery.”

The audience burst out in applauds and whistles again. Connie went right along with them, clapping and cheering on her husband.

“What do you say about this Doctor? Is hope a necessary ingredient in the treatment of addicts today?”

“I think it’s hogwash. Hope cannot be scientifically measured, so therefore cannot be used by skilled practitioners. Best practices within the field of medicine do not include this so-called amorphous “Hope” anywhere in today’s literature.”

“Is that so Mr. Diaz? How do you answer the Doctor’s claims?”

“Its not about whether or not clinical research approves or disapproves of our methods, not at all. In fact, time has shown us that our approach to practice has proven to be very successful. We’ve seen no less than forty percent of our patients maintain at least two or more years of sobriety without relapsing. This is a very high success rate that even the Doctor can agree with.”

“What do you say to this Doctor?"

“This is a high rate of success. Only about two out of every twenty five patients ever recover amongst this population usually. Yes, this is very good.”

The crowd burst out in applauds, with some in the audience giving standing ovations. Connie was proud and excited at the same time. She couldn’t hide her exuberance, happiness for her husband.

“Well, we have to leave it there, that’s all the time we have. I want to thank our guest and audience for coming, and wish you all a good night.”

“Cut, that’s a wrap folks,” yelled the Director on the set. 

Frank Diaz was a hit that night. His professional reputation grew after appearing on the show. His board of directors and colleagues sent him congratulatory emails and made phone calls, thanking him for doing such a great job, representing the business and profession so brilliantly.

#

For weeks after the show, Diaz continued using cocaine and alcohol until he’d past out each night. When he did come to in the mornings, he’d be consumed with remorse, and feelings of shame. He didn’t know what to do. If it ever got out that he was addicted, it would ruin him. This could crush him professionally, as well as financially. He felt lost and desperate now. Caught in a conundrum of his own making, he’d cry out loud for a release, behind his study doors, away from Connie’s ears. And then it happened. This one night he was able to dig deep inside himself to find the hope and strength needed to admit his powerlessness over his addiction. He knew he needed help or else he’d die. He finally was able to admit to himself, the masks he’d worn for years had to be ripped away.

A week later, he confessed to Connie that he was addicted to drugs and alcohol, and wanted to seek help. He also admitted how frightened he’d been over the years that his addiction would be found out by his peers, and the harm this would wreak once it got out.

“Don’t fret Honey. I’m with you all the way on this one. You can and will beat this, and come out on top. I know you baby, once you put your mind to achieving something, nothing can stop you.”

“Thank you Connie. You’re the best. I’m so tired of being locked and loaded in this self imposed prison I’ve built. I’ll start immediately by hiring a private nurse who can get me detoxed right here at home. At the same time, I’ll attend sessions out of state where fewer people know me. What do you think Honey?”

“It sounds like a plan to me. It’ll work, I’m sure of it.”

  #

Six months later, Frank Diaz is completely clean and sober. He’s able to confront his demons head on, and found a path to freedom. He accepted the fact that he can not use drugs or alcohol if he wants to remain healthy. He understands now that his physical and mental well being is contingent upon how honest he remains in his daily affairs. Frank Diaz now is free from the weight of the facades he used, to get what he wanted, when he wanted it. He no longer has to find ways and means to please others, just to appear normal. He’s free from self-will run riot, and the calamity people pleasing brings about. In the end, the masks had to go.

 END  

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