On Graduation Day all of the graduates lined up outside of the "Aitken Center". The "Aitken Center" is the "University of New Brunswick's" main facility for their hockey team, it also houses concerts, basketball games and Graduation Ceremonies.
We made our way in and were overwhelmed by a wave of stale air and confined moisture. First thought "I'm gonna have a sweaty gooch". We all sat down in these foldable, blue cushioned chairs. Listened to a couple of speeches about how we were all destined to be Tom Green, jacking off a horse in the middle of a field somewhere.
Then we were called up in alphabetical order. When our row was motioned to stand up, I felt as if I'd collapse. Oh, the power of mental illness. When they called my name "Benjamin Cleve Ganong" I took a deep breath, walked slowly and intentionally onto the stage, did the "you can't see me" wave of the hand in front of my face (dear god that's embarrassing) and then shook the principle's hand.
Following the ceremony our school had organized a "safe-grad" for us "prestigious Grade Twelve students". We would all be loaded onto busses, driven out to some arbitrary lake where we'd take part in a wide variety of activities. The whole idea of Safe-Grad is that you "party" in a safe environment by being totally and completely sober. Which was fine, I was actually excited for the opportunity.
Dad dropped me off at the School and I ran inside to tell the teachers who volunteered that I'd be participating in the celebrations. The closer I got to the "sign-up table" the more terror welled up inside me. Being outside the city in the dark, in and amongst the trees, so far away from my father and the hospital made me feel as if there would be no way to escape should I have a breakdown. By the time the volunteers and I met face to face I knew it was over. They tried to convince me to go, but I solemnly and sadly told them that I could not, I called my Dad from the office phone and made my way back outside.
Once again, tears almost found their way to the surface, but I instinctively repressed them with vigor. Dad saw my eyelids flooding with liquid, he assured me that we'd have our own fun.
The wheels of my Dads old 1994 Honda rolled on and my mind drifted as we drove away from the High School, I thought about the opportunity at hand that would never again present itself; which morphed into something my best friend had told me about my home room teacher after I was forced to leave school due to mental illness. She said that I was surely faking it, she thought I was having a dandy time skipping school and reaping the benefits of not having to attend classes, yet still passing with flying colours. Her words cut deep, and although her and I never quite "clicked", her comments still felt like salt in an already wounded soul. My English teacher Mrs. White stood up for me from what I hear. I loved Mrs. White, she genuinely enjoyed and nurtured my comedic/animated side. Guess you can't love them all.
Dad and I did end up having a descent time that night, and I was grateful for his concern and for the effort he put forth to try and console my sadness. However; it was the following night that I was most concerned with, as it was high time for the overly-anticipated prom night.
My date, as you well know, was Lois. Her family had graciously found Lois and I a vehicle to ride to the Entrance of "The Delta Hotel" where the Prom Dance for the 2006 Grads was being held. We took pictures at Carleton Park with some buddies of mine before heading over. Geoff, along with Skinny P were there. After taking several weird and hilarious pictures, we all loaded into our respective vehicles and drove towards our moment of glory and potential embarrassment.
The Jeep Wrangler Lois and I were occupying was an absolute treat to drive and as we rolled down the baked black pavement, my nervous system clenched my balls in its grip. The beads of sweat made their way down my back and into the pants of my tuxedo. It was another hot June day and as the minutes crumbled, so did my somewhat calm perspective. However; something kept me strong in those moments, where I knew that action, right action, was the only option. That sounded like a tag line for a new lame Western flick of some sort. This was more of a film about "Vibration Anxiety Creation" starring mentally mad Mister Benjamin Ganong!
By some miracle I did manage to keep relatively calm externally. It was necessary that I remain "manly" in front of the almighty Lois. After about an hour of waiting behind a line of other grads in their fancy vehicles it was our turn to shine. Everything happened in a vacuum. The vacuum made sure that everyone moved in slow motion, along with myself, which was kind of convenient. I opened up Lois's door for her and instinctively reached for her hand, she made her way out of the vehicle mindfully and with elegance. She looked gorgeous in her pink dress, and I was the lucky man who got to escort her around a large carpet-laden-oval that wound in and then outside the hotel. The red walkway was surrounded by several eager onlookers. The oval was created by the proms organizers for the purpose of showing off the graduate's tuxedo's and gowns. We held our heads up high, and carried ourselves with confidence despite the uncharted territory we were in.
Once we were on the dancefloor, we got our groove on pretty quick. A friend of mine and myself had created a dance for this occasion; I actually think there is still a picture of us in ridiculous dancing form in my yearbook. Oh, my dear nostalgia, let's be friends.
Lois and I were eager to get to prom party, which was a separate entity unto itself. Prom party would take place outside the city at a fellow graduate's cottage, where drinking was to be expected.
Lois and I stayed on the Dance floor for an hour and a half before we left in my Dad's white Honda. I, of course was not drinking due to the crazy level of anxiety I now possessed...You might be thinking, "wouldn't your impulse to drink be heightened in the face of such a crippling level of existential dread?", well, I would have thought the same thing, but for whatever reason alcohol became something; along with a surplus of other things, that I was deeply fearful of. A loss of control seemed to be at the center of many of these anxieties, and to drink was a surefire way to lose control, even though my prior experience with alcohol outside of the realm of mental illness brought about a feeling of "being in control" rather than losing it. Yes, it was confusing for me too. So, for that reason I was the designated driver for the night.
Before cruising to the party, we stopped at Lois's house to pick up her alcohol, which conveniently gave us an opportunity to get changed. Then we drove out into Noonan, Fredericton and beyond, in the direction of the world famous "Village of Minto" to reach the dirt road we'd traverse on our way to the celebration. It was blaringly obvious when we got to the cottage that there wasn't much planning involved in the set-up.
We parked, and stepped outside of the car into a black hole; you could not, despite several attempts, see your hand in front of your face. There were a bunch of drunk people walking around in the dark trying to find their way. As soon as we got there, I basically told Lois I'd be leaving shortly. The noise, the lack of visibility and my own sobriety tipped me over the precipice of situational tolerance. Out the dirt road I drove.
The end of the night wasn't that disappointing; I had a rare day away from Dad's house and there was a connection that was beginning to be felt between Lois and I. She was so cute and she had a beautiful little petite body that drove me bananas.