Amina the Attention Seeker

For the fifth time this year I had managed to stub my toe on yet another difficult decision. What was I going to do next? After all, my mom was really getting irritated by my constantly changing spectrum of things to try. The last thing I wanted was for her to start making complaints to my dad. What can I say? I am just an adventurous soul looking for something to feed my energy, I thought as I scrambled to collect the last few ants that had scattered along the hallway. This time I had literally stubbed my toe and fell with the entire box of my new found hobby, collecting fire ants. Come to think of it that was not a great idea to begin with. Mom was deathly allergic to them and was currently in the bathroom weeping her eyes out after one had bitten her and she was forced to take her Epipen. I knew she was tired of all the near misses from everything I had decided to try out this year. Almost drowning while surfing, parachute failure while skydiving and almost losing our dog while dog training had definitely taken it’s toll on her. She had started to form wrinkles along her forehead and a few grey hairs had started peeking through her scalp.

“Mum,” guilt laced my voice as I whispered that one word.

She did not answer but instead remained quiet. I knew she knew what I was going to say next. After all, this had become our new routine. I do something foolish and then I apologize to her for doing something foolish. I knew she wanted me to stop but she would never say the words because she was always supportive and encouraged me to try new things.

“I am sorry, I will get rid of them,” I uttered. I think by now my apologies were played out.

 Still there was silence. A soft sigh left my lips as I slowly walked towards the front door with the box.

*** 

“Amina,” My dad yelled angrily.

 My body quaked and I struggled to recollect myself. Painting had not gone how I had planned. How can such a simple task turn into such a disaster? I thought I would have had things under control by now. After all, I had matured, Right? Ollie my one year old Labrador puppy had gotten into my paint supplies and now the entire hallway of dad’s apartment has been covered in painted paw prints. Taking in the scene, I chuckled a bit. Now the dull apartment had a little more color to it.

“Is this why your mom sent you to live with me, to destroy my belongings?” He said annoyed at my response to the situation. “Amina, after all these years I thought you would have matured by now.”

“Dad, I am sorry. I will clean this up.” I said as I watched him walk away.

Not again, I thought to myself as I began to reminisce on how I had almost sent my mom to the hospital because of my selfishness and inability to reason. Now I can only see her on weekends because I was deemed unfit to be around her. Even after that, I was still incapable of recognizing the issues I have with myself, was I using all these hobbies to fill some form of subconscious void? I mean, I have never managed to stick to one thing for more than a few weeks.

***

“Are you okay Amina,” A soft voice interrupted my thoughts.

 I turned my head to look at the tall lean figure sitting on the couch across from me, unable to read her facial expression. Was that pity I saw? Or maybe it was disappointment. I was always unable to tell. I studied her a bit before turning my head back to look at the ceiling.

 “I think so,” I say a bit unsure. I mean, was I really okay? I had been here for a few weeks but was still unable to figure out my obsessive and impulsive behavior towards exploring the things the world has to offer. After almost setting Grandma’s kitchen aflame for the second time she decided I needed to talk to someone. My parents were completely terrified of me and really didn’t want anything to do with me. My last hobby had caused them to lose everything. I guess that’s why they say gambling is a game of chance. Dad had gotten beaten up and somehow the police got involved and so here I am, staying with grandma. She too wasn’t very fond of me but I was her only grandchild so what could she do?

 Many people would think I am troubled and I am starting to think so too. Things were not so bad a few years ago. It was just me trying to figure myself out. Things only got bad when finding a dream hobby became my obsession, I would stay awake nights after nights, weeks after weeks trying to find something new to do. Every week it was something else and it was always something detrimental to the people around me. I just could not help it. I always imagined myself doing all these crazy things... and I did, however it all brought great suffering to the people I love.

***

   I never in my life thought I would be admitted to a psychiatric ward. I watched as my parents spoke to the lady at the front desk. They had come to visit. By now, mom’s hair had completely grayed and the years were printed on her face. Dad had just started showing his age. He always seemed to wear a sad expression whenever he visited. 

“Hi sweetie,” Mom said reaching out her arms to give me a hug.

 I pulled away from her. I was mad, why did they put me here; there is nothing wrong with me. Dad came up beside her reaching out his hand for me to take. I looked at him skeptically before grabbing on to it and standing up. Were they here to take me home?

Over the years my interest in trying new things became more and more dangerous. Life threatening they said, for me it was more exhilarating. That’s what the doctor had said, I was addicted to adrenaline. I wondered... was that even a thing?

“It’s time to go home sweetie,” my mom said jerking me from my thoughts.

***

   I felt a hand touch my shoulder and my eyes flew open as I emerged from sleep. Is that where I would end up? I thought to myself as I watched my therapist walk back to her place on the couch.