Regret

There are a lot of things I know I should like but I just can’t bring myself to liking. 

A couple of years ago I confessed to one of my aunts that I can’t make myself like The Beatles.  I feel like I’m supposed to like The Beatles.  I recognize that The Beatles are iconic because they revolutionized music.  They pushed the envelope and did things that hadn’t been done before.  The energy that they created around themselves was endemic and infectious.  Some people would argue that Beatles lyrics are some of the best lyrics ever composed.  I identify all of this and I respect all of this but I just can’t bring myself to like The Beatles. 

Here’s another example.  I love movies that are crafted well and tell character driven stories.  We don’t get to see many of these in our local theatres anymore because of how formulaic Hollywood has become; they know what sells and so they create products that sell rather than art that speaks and lives.  So, if I say that I like artistic movies and avoid the mass produced and highly predictable dross that flows from the major production companies, you would think I would like classic movies, right?  Wrong.  I can’t stand so called classic movies.  Case in point:  Every Christmas season I struggle with the people in my life that need to watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” and “Miracle on 34^th Street” because these “classic” movies speak to a human condition that seems to be front and center during the holidays.  Again, I know I should like these movies and movies like them but I just can’t bring myself to actually liking them. 

Now all of that isn’t to say that I find nothing of use to me from the artists behind these mediums.  I can appreciate a moving lyric from a Beatles song or a line from a film that resonates with something inside of me.  I’ll find comfort and challenge from these things but I just can’t bring myself to be a stalwart supporter or diehard fan. 

More often than not I’ll find a better connection with the individual apart from his or her art.  John Lennon just talking off the cuff, for instance, is more likely to get a reaction from me than any carefully crafted composition. 

Well…maybe John Lennon isn’t the best example.  To be honest I can’t call to mind anything he ever said in an interview that seemed to have stuck with me.

A better example would be the Italian film maker Federico Fellini.  If you aren’t familiar with his name or his work (films like “La Dolce Vida”) you might be able to recognize him from his infiltration into popular culture.  The illustration which immediately comes to mind is the 2003 novel turned film “Under the Tuscan Sun” starring Diane Lane.  One of the characters in the film (Catherine, played by the indomitable Lindsey Duncan) was greatly influence personally and philosophically by Il Meastro.   

One of the things that film maker Fellini said apart from his work as a film maker that even makes an appearance in “Under the Tuscan Sun” is this quote:  “Regrets are a waste of time. They're the past crippling you in the present.”  I like this quote not because of what it says but because of what it made me think. 

I think this quote is an over simplification.  If Fellini was alive and working today I might try to accuse him of employing bumper sticker philosophy or selling out to the soundbite culture.  It’s a catchy comment that feels true but I think it’s actually a statement that doesn’t really consider the psychology of the word “regret” and how I think it can and should be used in our day to day lives. 

Now that I’ve accused FeFe of an oversimplification, let me make one of my own.

I think there are fundamentally two types of regret.  The first type is the regret we feel when we do or say something and almost immediately realize that that wasn’t the thing to do or say.  I remember when I was growing up and my extended family had gotten together for dinner and games and just spending time in each other’s company.  A skiing trip was being planned and I had absolutely no interest in it.  My aunts and uncles were trying to convince me to come along going so far as to point out that skiing was how my one uncle met his at-the-time-fiancee.  I immediately commented that if that was the case I definitely wasn’t interested in going.  As soon as I said it, the words I thought would be funny, rang in my ears and sliced deep into my pride.  I had shot my mouth off without even thinking.  I immediately regretted the words.

The second is the regret that we feel over something we have absolutely no control over.  It’s that thing that we did in that past, maybe born of good intentions, that unfolded in a way that we could not have predicted or foreseen, that complicated our lives and/or the lives of the people around us.  This is the regret we feel over words or actions that were said or done with the best of intentions based on the information at hand.  It’s typically the regret we feel as we grow older or information becomes more available or knowledge becomes more reliable. 

I think this is the regret we feel as a whole when we think about things like slavery and colonialism.   It’s the regret that many of us in the LGBT community feel when we look back on our lives, having made the decision to keep our identities hidden because, based on the information we had at the time, it was the only viable option.  We become trapped by those choices and the lives that we create around them.  We eventually fear the damage that could be done if we tried to correct these mistakes. 

I also think it’s this second type of regret that Fellini was referring to when he commented that regrets are the past crippling us in the present.  The first type of regret will definitely make us feel stupid and stir up feelings of remorse and shame, but I think it’s this second type of regret that can become so guilt ridden that we end up causing ourselves problems by carrying it around with us.

I believe that emotions like guilt and shame and regret, when understood properly, are important tools in our journey of becoming.  We experience emotion to tell us when something is right or wrong, joyous or frightening, off-kilter or copacetic. What is more is that it usually takes time to gain perspective and objectivity with regard to choices that create feelings of regret of both kinds.  Sure there are those moments (like the example I just gave involving my uncle and his (now) wife) when you open your mouth to realize you’ve got some toe jam stuck in your teeth but usually regret is looking at your past and realizing how stupid some of the things you’ve said and done actually are.  More importantly, regret is looking at your past and understanding why some of the things you’ve said and done probably weren’t the best choices you’ve ever made.  This understanding piece is so incredibly critical; without the understanding of why and without asking yourself questions to uncover the why you’ll never be able to learn and grow from the uncomfortable experience.  You’ll be stuck in that past and needlessly carrying the weight of that regret around with you into the future. 

Unlike Fellini seems to be indicating in his statement, I don’t believe that regrets cripple us in the present unless we let them.  If we choose not to address them, ask ourselves questions about them, and become okay with the answers we discover, we will be burdened with them.  Otherwise it’s like everything else in our lives when we gain some distance in time and are able to be objective:  We look for the patterns and themes and take those lessons forward so that we become better people. 

When you read a book, the author will typically establish certain “givens” that you have to accept to make the story move forward.  You can wonder about some of these givens, what certain characters were thinking when they made certain choices or why this fictional world works the way the author says it does but in the end, if you want to move on with the story, you have to come to accept these givens and then look at how these givens affect the story. 

It’s the same with our individual lives as we consider our own stories.  Particularly with that second form of regret that is so much more complex than the first.  When we look at our lives and the bad things that happen to us and sometimes, more importantly, the bad things that we do to ourselves, we struggle to make sense of things.  We can and we should ask ourselves why we did these things and how we ever thought they would be okay but at the end of the day we have to take our lessons and move on.  We have to accept the “given” of the event and say to ourselves, “That’s just the way it is.  I can’t change it.  So how is it going to affect my story?”

My 2016 self, with its knowledge and experience and perspective, can literally stand here and scream at my 1980’s self and my 1990’s self about decisions I made which ignored the needs of my identity but at the time, in that time with the information available to me, it was the best and only decision I could make.  Of course I know better now, as we all do, but I can’t live in a place where I am constantly berating myself for the stupidity of that decision.  I can’t live in a place where I allow the guilt and the shame of choices like these to consume me.  In the end these choices become givens in the story of my life.  I cannot allow myself to be continuously victimized by choices I made in good faith at the time that set me up for future problems.  And more than that, it’s not just about me.  The regret I feel becomes all the more poignant when I consider how those choices have affected and will affect the people around me, the people I care most about.  If I chose not to allow these choices to become givens after exploring the regret they have generated after time has passed and more knowledge is gained, I would never be allowed to move forward with my story let alone my life.  

Regrets don’t necessarily have to cripple us in our present unless we give them that much power.  With all due respect to Federico Fellini, regret is an opportunity to learn from the past to empower us in our present if we choose to ask the critical questions and incorporate even the most uncomfortable of answers into our stories.  It’s hard and sometimes painful work but knowledge, like anything of value, should never come easy.  

On "This American Life," Pragmatism, and Faith

I’ve been a fan of “This American Life” on National Public Radio for years.  The folks behind the show were pioneers in capturing stories that both tell the story of people trying to interpret the events of their lives in a meaningful way as well as help the larger audience do the same by sharing these stories in a thought provoking way.  It’s a brilliant exercise in vicarious learning; the stories can easily become catalysts for paradigmatic shifts as these collected stories resonate with something inside of us, the audience.

Recently “This American Life” ran a show entitled That’s One Way to Do It.  The description of the episode was:

“Forget the easy way. This week, stories about people who come up with very innovative…and unusual...solutions to their problems. Including the story of a young voter who defies political categorization.”

It was this story, in the show’s first act, which grabbed my attention.  You can find the episode here.

Let me briefly summarize the set up.  Alex Chalgren (who you can follow on twitter @AChalgren) is eighteen years old.  He is black.  He is gay.  He is a supporter of Donald Trump. 

Now that you’ve read that a couple of times to make sure you read it correctly, let me continue.  Alex was adopted by his mother, who happened to be his third grade teacher, after Alex was put in her class at some point during the school year.  She was enamored by him and he by her.  Apparently they are quite close.  It’s one of those heart-warming adoption stories.  After Alex was adopted his mother married his father whom they met at church. 

Alex and his parents are conservative evangelical Christians.  They live in South Carolina.  His parents are huge supporters of Ted Cruz.  Alex supports Donald Trump because Trump is a Republican, which appeals to Alex’s inherited political values.  Alex also supports Trump because Trump supports marriage equality, which appeals to the realty of Alex’s life.  It was this juxtaposition/compromise which grabbed my attention in the telling of Alex’s story.  It was clear to me that Alex is trying to be faithful to values that, in our United States political landscape, are so diametrical and polarizing. 

But then Alex’s story, like all good stories, took a turn and my curiosity about Alex’s compromise turned into anger over the next part of this narrative. 

When Alex was in 8^th grade his parents figured out he was gay.  The producer who is interviewing Alex and his parents for this piece doesn’t go into detail about his parents’ reactions but the few comments Alex and his parents offer are enough to give the listener the general idea.  In short, Alex’s parents, who evidently found out about Alex’s identity by reading Alex’s journal, didn’t take the news very well.  Alex, in the piece, summarizes their response by highlighting his parents taking him to the elders of their church where he was lectured at regarding “God’s plan.”  He also said that his parents put him into therapy.  The producer clarified what the therapy was for and, yes, it was to “fix” Alex’s sexuality.

So, yes.  It made me angry.  It made me very angry.  It blows me away that it’s 2016 and young people are still subjected to, what I see as, superstitious religious thinking and unethical therapeutic practices.  I am Christian and, as you can imagine given my life situation, I have spent considerable time researching the damage the Church has done to people in the name of their understanding of “God’s plan.” 

One of the first “real novels” I ever read was “The Mists of Avalon” by Marion Zimmer Bradley.  It’s the story of King Arthur told from the eyes of the traditional antagonist, Morgaine (or Morgan le Fey).  In this version of the story Morgaine isn’t trying to undermine King Arthur or take over Camelot.  She is fighting to find her place in a rapidly changing world in which she feels she has no control.  She ultimately finds that place in fighting for her people, the followers of the native religions and traditions that stand at the brink of extinction as Christianity takes hold of Britain. 

There is a line toward the end of the book as Morgaine, in her older age, begins to understand the themes of her life.  She shares this observation with the reader:  “From these Christians who came to [Avalon] to escape the bigotry of their own kind I learned something, at last, of the Nazarene, the carpenter's son who had attained Godhead in his own life and preached a rule of tolerance; and so I came to see that my quarrel was never with the Christ, but with his foolish and narrow priests who mistook their own narrowness for his.”

I’ve always used this quote as a guiding principle when it comes to studying God and the Bible.  People have a way to bend holy texts to their views, both intentionally and unintentionally.  It’s so easy to misinterpret these things, to misunderstand them, especially when there are hundreds of years of the misinterpretations and misunderstandings built into the institution.  And of course it’s these faulty understandings that influence so-called professionals who step away from the actual science behind psychology and psychiatry and stand in opposition to the American Psychiatric Association (APA) who removed homosexuality as a disorder from the Diagnostic and Stastical Manual (DSM) in 1973 because science and research could not support the understanding of homosexuality as harmful to an individual’s life.

So I have these things in my mind when I hear 18 year old Alex Chalgren explain how his parents reacted to his identity when he was 14 years old.  And, as I said, it made me very angry. 

But then Alex said something that changed my mood yet again.  Here’s an excerpt from the episode’s transcript, a conversation between Alex and the producer, Zoe Chace. 

Zoe Chace

When Alex's parents found out he was gay, it was as dramatic as things can get in those sort of situations. Alex says they suspected it and read his journal, where he had written about boys. This was in eighth grade. He had to leave school immediately and his parents started homeschooling him. And they brought in their church.

Alex Chalgren

And they wanted to nip this in the bud. Snap, cut it, make sure I was straight. And I was like a-- yeah. So the clergy came down, sat with me, the elders and people. And they read from scripture and everything.

And I was just sitting there quietly. At first I saw it as like, oh, my goodness. This is a sin. I can't believe this. I'm going to go hell. Oh, my god, I'm going to burn in hell for all eternity.

And so they're reading from scripture. And they're saying, this is what the scripture says, man shall not lie with another man, whatever. And the more that happened, the harder I became. I was less soft. And then my mom got a therapist for me, another one, a different one, for me being gay.

Zoe Chace

Was this one of those therapists who is like, I'm going to help you be not gay?

Alex Chalgren

Yeah. He was a preacher [LAUGHS] with the Presbyterian therapists' organization. He didn't do anything. I just told him I'm gay. I said this is what's going to happen. I'm gay. But you can talk about how I can have a better relationship with my parents.

This emphasis in that last line is mine.

This is a powerful example of self-advocacy that defines this generation.  In short, and at the risk of putting words in Alex’s mouth that he may not have intended, Alex is saying:  This is who I am and that’s not a problem; the problem is my relationship with my parents and people who have a problem with who I am. 

Zoe Chace, who produced the piece for “This American Life,” teases out her theories and discusses Alex’s parents’ theories as to why Alex makes the choices he makes when it comes to politics and maybe even his identity.  I have my own theory. 

There’s a piece connected to Alex’s story that I recognize with regard to his adoption and integrating the part of his story where he felt powerless into his present situation and his personality.  So often times children who are adopted when they’re older struggle with power and powerlessness.  There are things there that I could explore and speculate about but I think the thing about Alex’s story that I finally left the thirty-one minute piece with is this:  Alex Chalgren, like so many other people in his “generation,” is a problem solver and to best solve problems it’s not necessarily about attending to black and white lines and hard and fast rules; it’s about pragmatism. 

For a lot of history, in part because of the Church’s influence, pragmatism has been discouraged.  In this historic view, to be pragmatic would be to find whatever solution worked the best/easiest in any given situation regardless of traditional thinking and values.  Of course that’s how “toe the line people” interpreted the mentality of people they didn’t agree with.  I think pragmatism isn’t about “whatever works is good” but rather “we need practical solutions to disruptive problems.”  I think pragmatism in this context hits a problem head on with a solution rather than minimizing the problem or kicking it down the road with a solution that doesn’t fully meet the needs the problem creates. 

This is where Alex’s story intersects with mine.  When I was Alex’s age it was just easier to minimize the problem (the problem, of course, being identity).  This didn’t address the problem and only served to complicate the problem over time.  Alex, being fortunate enough to live in a time in which pragmatism is valued and who had the courage of his convictions as they seem to be demonstrated in the “This American Life” story, hit the problem(s) head on with real solutions, i.e. “I’m gay and that’s not changing.  What can change is my relationship with my parents and you can help me do that.”

I think what is so awesome about Alex’s story as shared on “This American Life” is that it’s captured in time in a way that many of us aren’t fortunate enough to experience.  I don’t know about your but NPR isn’t knocking on my door for me to share my story, thus memorializing it for posterity.  But Alex has had this experience as part of his story.  It would be interesting to check in with Alex in the years to come to see how he continues to solve the problem of seemingly conflicting values and disharmony in his family over something that cannot be changed. 

I do want to thank Alex for having the courage to share his story. 

Post Script

As I began proofreading and editing this entry I realized that this post definitely makes me sound like I’ve joined the ranks of crotchety old men yelling at kids to get off their lawns.  I’m seriously not that old.  I wonder if anyone could actually guess my age.  Could be interesting.  Or scary.  Or both. 

Thank You

I want to take a small break from the deeper reflections I’ve been writing and say THANK YOU to you, dear reader.  Why?  Well, apart from the fact that you’re taking time out of your day to read this note, I have a few notable reasons to be grateful.

1.     Last night when I checked the readership of my blog I saw that not only am I reaching people in the United States and Germany (as I’ve done since the beginning), I also have readers in Ireland, France, and Poland.  You don’t know how cool it is for me to see that much interest in what I have to say.  Since launching my blog on January 27, 2016 I have had nearly 370 viewers.  I’m not a math major; I’ve often said that math is evidence of the reality that there is an ultimate evil in the world.  But those 370 views works out to be an average of 14 people per day (I think) cruising by.  That astounds me and humbles me.

2.     I logged into my publishing account last night and learned that my book, These Are The Days, has not only earned a 4/5 star review (my first review!!) but I have a royalty check about to drop.  I’m not going to lie—the royalty check is a nice thing.  What’s even cooler, though, is that people are reading my book and seem to be liking it.  I am so grateful for this!  When I first self-published the book I was so worried that not only would people not enjoy the book (in part because I did it on the down low and didn’t have an editor sweep through it), but that I would take the risk of exposing myself for nothing.  So far that hasn’t been the case.  You guys are awesome!

3.     Because of the support I’ve seen through watching people come to my blog and read my book, I have been so encouraged.  There are still those moments when I worry that people will discover who Troy Comets really is but until then I feel like I’m doing some good.  That’s an affirmation I sorely needed in my life. 

4.     Also because of your support I am roughly one fourth of the way through a new manuscript for a new story.  It’s another LGBT “coming of age” book but I think it’s a little more complex as it tackles topics like culture, identity, stereotypes, and bigotry based on race, sexuality, and religion.  Feeling inspired after seeing all of these numbers and reports, I wrote what I think is one of the best scenes I have ever written last night.  I can’t wait to share it with you!

I am so grateful to you, dear reader, for joining me on this journey.  I’m sure that some of the people who visit my blog and read my book are not too different from me, being trapped in a place where coming out flat out isn’t an option.  Believe me, I respect that and pray for the day where we can all be who we were meant to be.  I understand completely your desire to learn more, participate vicariously, and keep yourself safe by not subscribing and deleting your history. 

But for everyone else, if there is one thing more I could ask of you it would be to find and follow me on twitter.  I’m still learning the twitter ropes and all the cultural pieces of the twitterverse, but I think that what I appreciate more and more about twitter is the ability to be in rapid and sometimes meaningful contact with people.  I think we all need someone out there to act as a hole in the wall into which we can whisper our secrets and dreams and aspirations without fear of consequence.  Since it seems that Troy Comets has taken up residence in that hole in the wall, please know that I’m here for you.  You can follow me on twitter @TroyComets.

So, again, thank you.  Someday hopefully I can find the words that will convey what you mean to me, dear reader. 

Soundtrack Update

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about the soundtrack to my life.  In that post I talked about Troye Sivan's song "Heaven" and gave a link to a lyric video.  

Troye recently performed in the iHeartRadio theatre and one of the songs he did was "Heaven."  This evening a number of his live performances from that concert were put up on youtube including this video of Troye Sivan singing 'Heaven" live.  It'll show up as "Wild" but it's actually "Heaven."

I encourage you all to check it out and show much love and support for Troye's music and the message he tries to convey through his gift.  

Panic

I had a panic attack the other day. 

I’m not exaggerating or engaging in hyperbolic rhetoric.  I seriously had a panic attack the other day. 

For those of you who have never experienced a panic attack or who have never witnessed someone experiencing a panic attack, let me try to explain what this feels like.  More specifically, maybe, let me explain what it feels like for me.  Do you know that feeling you get when you’re driving a very hilly road at a somewhat unsafe speed and you crest the hill and your body seems to gain altitude faster than your heart?  Or that feeling you get when you’re in an elevator that is designed for people other than tourists so it actually moves quickly and not at a snail’s pace so, again, your body loses altitude faster than your heart?  Imagine just that sensation for a prolonged period of time. 

But of course a panic attack is more than just a physical sensation.  Imagine every real or perceived criticism your mind can generate, every real or perceived fear or judgment you’ve ever been subjected to, every real or perceived pressure you’ve experienced occurring to you all at once.  Imagine every rational and irrational worry bursting through the door of your subconscious and demanding your immediate and complete attention.  Imagine losing control of your reasonable mind to entertain panic over things you really have absolutely no control over.  It’s a profound sense of powerlessness that literally leaves a person gasping for breath and desperately trying to escape one’s own skin. 

That’s what a panic attack is for me.

There aren’t a lot of accurate depictions of a panic attack on television or movies.  Face it, of the mental illnesses writers can afflict their characters with, anxiety is B level material.  I think there’s one exception to this rule, though.  There is a comedy/drama produced by the Australian Broadcast Company called “Please Like Me” that tackles a number of contemporary issues head on including mental health.  One of the actors, Keegan Joyce, does a phenomenal job portraying Arnold, a character who struggles with anxiety and panic attacks.  Here’s a clip onyoutube of the first time we see Arnold having a panic attack (it starts at about 2:50).  Here’s another clip of how the show’s main character, Josh, works to calm Arnold while Arnold has another panic attack (just be advised that not everyone responds this quickly to de-escalation or even responds to this approach).  Oh, and be aware—there’s language in these clips.

Panic and the anxiety that creates it can be absolutely crippling not just because of the panic attack itself but worrying about having a panic attack brings life to a crawl if not a full on stop.  There are periods in which I won’t leave the house on my own because I stress about having a panic attack in the middle of a store somewhere.  It’s a valid fear, by the way.  I’ve had to drop my shopping and race to my car a few times in the past.  Each time it gets worse because that irrational part of your brain begins to whisper things like “Everyone’s watching you, you know.  They see you come in.  They know you’re that crazy guy who picks up a cart full of food and then leaves it in the middle of the bakery.”

For me there is no rhyme or reason to my panic attacks.  Sometimes, after the attack is over and I have an opportunity to conduct a post mortem on the corpse of the panic attack, I can’t even determine the cause of the event.  For example, I had an attack about a month and a half ago just before bed.  I tried very hard to bring someone along on this journey, to explain what was going on inside when it was happening, but I don’t think it made much sense to her and I don’t think it did me any good.  In the end it was very much like Arnold in that first clip:  Don’t touch me and just leave me alone.

What I do know is that the triggers for my anxiety and my panic attacks are all external.  Something on the outside of my body pokes something on the inside of my body, drawing attention to an issue or a fear.  And then it pokes it again.  And again.  Soon that spot is enflamed and the issue or fear is blown completely out of proportion. 

There is a really cool word in psychology.  The word is “catastrophizing.”  As in, “When I have a panic attack, I automatically catastrophize everything.”  In other words, the irrational part of my brain takes over and carries the topic or situation to the most ridiculous extreme outcome, the most catastrophic culmination.  This is like Arnold in that second clip; there are no options because absolutely everything is messed up and set against you. 

I think my panic attacks are about the only time when external stimuli completely hijack my sense of being.  These evil invisible demons who follow me around and whisper devastating thoughts into my subconscious inevitably seize control of my brain and my body.  They induce the physical reaction I described before, where my insides aren’t quite at the same altitude as my body.  My breathing becomes shallow.  My thoughts turn dire and intense.  I literally look for a way to physically escape the setting I’m in because I think that if I could just change my surroundings I could protect myself from the mounting anxiety.  It never works, of course.  You can never escape from the things inside.

National Public Radio did a piece a few weeks ago on combatting anxiety by externalizing the self-talk that people use on themselves to drag themselves down.  It was a piece originally run on the podcast “ReplyAll” in which a guy talks about how he created a spambot to email him comments to trigger his anxiety.  He set it up as a website; people could go to the website and enter in all their fears and anxieties.  When I got to this point in the story I actually rolled my eyes and expected to hear how the bot would email positive affirmations in an attempt to mitigate the effects of the guy’s anxiety.  That part didn’t come.  Here are some examples of some actual comments that the bot sent:

--I don't agree with all the people who say you are weak-kneed and monstrous. 

--Most of your friends are doing okay, which makes me wonder why you are so a burden on others. 

--I respect that you just live your life and don't care if people think you are exhausting to know and not interesting. 

--People on Facebook look at your picture and think: strangely repulsive and whiny. 

--Ask yourself, do you always want to be deficient and likely to die soon. 

--People pretend to be nice to you but they're thinking: weird-faced. 

(Taken from an article you can find here:  http://nymag.com/scienceofus/2015/01/guy-outsourced-his-anxiety-to-a-spambot.html )

The whole idea was apparently to externalize this self-talk so that it would be easier for a person who struggles with anxiety to disregard it.  Instead of these comments appearing unbidden in your brain, they would show up in your email box.  Theoretically the change in orientation would decrease the impact of the self-talk.  It apparently didn’t work too well.  The guy who created the bot took it down because it made him too anxious.

Here's a link to the original piece from the "ReplyAll" podcast.

Here’s the deal.  At least for me. 

I have dealt with anxiety for most of my life.  Because of my education and experience, I know the psychology behind it and the standard approaches to treatment.  I know the breathing exercises and how to try to anchor myself in the moment in order to regain control of my racing brain with all of its doomsday observations.  I have a prescription for Ativan that I take as needed.  Knowing all of this and having these resources really doesn’t make a difference in the end, though.  My anxiety hasn’t gotten better through therapeutic interventions or through educating myself.  Part of this is because of the state of my life.  As you already know, dear reader, not very many people know exactly who I am and the anxiety that weighs on me because of this is extremely heavy some days.  But I really don’t think I can escape my anxiety any more than I can escape my eye color.  Sure, I can cover it up and pretend it’s not there or that it’s something else but that doesn’t mean it’s gone.  I think, for me, anxiety and panic attacks are just part of my make-up.  It’s not going to go away.

But….

Just because it’s not going to go away doesn’t mean I am going to let it control my life any more than it does. 

Now, I know what you’re thinking.  You read that statement and you remembered what I said at the beginning, about being afraid to go out in public sometimes and having to leave public spaces at other times.  No doubt you’re curious how I can live, subjected to the control my anxiety has over me, and then proclaim that I’m not going to let it control me any more than it does.  Here’s what I mean.  I can choose to be a victim of my anxiety, become its prisoner, and let it confine and restrain me.  Or…I can acknowledge it as a part of who I am and incorporate it into my story.  If it controls me, it drives who I am and what my story is.  If I seize control of how I understand my anxiety and what it means to live with it and endure it and how it affects me, then in the end I control it.

It’s why I’m writing this post right now.  By sharing the story of my struggles with anxiety and how panic attacks affect me and, more to the point, accepting that there is no magic mental surgery to extract “the anxiety center” so that I can be “normal” gives me the ultimate control of how I define my anxiety.  If I leave it a mystery, refuse to acknowledge it, distance myself from it, or put control of it into the hands of a spambot, then my anxiety controls me.  Writing about my anxiety in this way not only empowers me but it turns this thing I suffer from and all the horrible things I experience because of it into something more endurable because, through my story, hopefully other people will learn more about themselves, whether they struggle with anxiety and panic attacks or not. 

In the end it’s all about how we will use our experiences in a way that help us define ourselves and give us power over our own stories.  By naming, owning, and accepting the not-so-savory parts of our personality we truly get to know ourselves and become more balanced as individuals. 

Nobody has it all together.  Nobody is happy 100% of the time.  Everyone has a struggle.  It just takes time to accept this and learn from it.  Let me be clear:  It’s not about learning to be “okay” with every horrible experience you’ve had or every way your body or mind betrays you.  It’s about not letting those betrayals define you and seize control of your story.  It’s your story.  It’s my story.  It doesn’t belong to anxiety.  It doesn’t belong to depression.  It doesn’t belong to eating disorders or image disorders or physical impairments or horrible voices from within or without.  When we give up that control we will always lose sight of who we are, how special we are, and the good that we can do.

Soundtrack

Recently I read an older article on Huffington Post about a paper published by a psychiatrist by the name of Dr. Joel Gold.  The paper details a disorder called “The Truman Show Delusion.”  People afflicted by this disorder believe that they are actual real life Trumans with their every move being broadcast around the world.  Dr. Gold cited one patient who actually believed that the terrorist attacks on 9/11/01 were staged to be a part of the narrative of his live broadcast.  I’ll put the link at the end of this post.

I think everyone stops occasionally in their life and tries to plug their life into a movie or a television program.  Hopefully it’s more along the lines of a sitcom or a romcom than CSI or National Geographic and heaven forbid someone should liken their life to a reality show.  I think it’s natural.  I think it’s part of the way we orient ourselves in the telling of our story.  Our memories of movies and television shows get wrapped up in the memories of our own experiences.  After all watching these things are memories of things we’ve experienced. 

Think of it this way.  How many times have you heard something or experienced something and something like this falls out of your mouth:  That reminds me of the time…

Yeah, we all do it.  We are all constantly interpreting our present through our past as we put our stories together.  We draw on the material from movies because those scenes, those characters seem to have it together.  And most of them do or at least end up getting it together by the end of the movie.  It’s how their characters were written. 

One of the things that we do when we draw comparisons between our lives and the movies we’ve seen is think about the different characters who would play the people in our lives.  Who plays our parents?  Our siblings?  Our friends?  That weird bachelor uncle who makes holiday dinners especially awkward? 

I think we also have a tendency to mark time in our stories with music.  It’s like a soundtrack to a movie.  How many times do we stop conversations to say, “This is my song!” or get nostalgic when a certain songs comes up on our playlists? 

Thinking about a soundtrack for my life is a bit touch and go because of the layers of my life and identity.  There are songs that stand out in my head with such power because of the people involved and the things that I was doing when the song caught my attention and settled in my brain.  When I hear “Nothing Compares to You” by Sinead O’Connor I am immediately pulled back to when my world suddenly became larger by a simple trip to Winnipeg, Manitoba.  This was a huge deal for me.  Growing up I never went anywhere but the minute I took my first walk through Winnipeg my perspective on the world changed.  All of a sudden there were more opportunities and possibilities in life.  It helped set a course for the future, fueled daydreams and fantasies, and even now I would love to relocate to “The Peg.”

Then there are songs that are powerful because no one was there.  For example, “Parce Mihi Domine” by Jan Garbarek.  I could not stop playing this song over and over as the storm clouds of my mind broke loose and torrents of tears flowed down my cheeks.  To this day if I need a good cathartic cry I’ll put it on repeat.  Usually in the car, when I’m alone.  It’s my “forlorn and forgotten” theme, the saxophone’s doleful wail rising above The Hilliard Ensemble’s choral perfection as the scenes of my life pass by in slow motion to emphasize the sense of pain and isolation. 

And then there are the songs that speak volumes to moments in my life that very few people know about or would understand.  These are the songs that Troy Comets has no problem talking about or listening to publicly.  These are the songs that usually come at moments of epiphany, like when I first heard “Heaven” by Troye Sivan.  When I heard this song I thought two things:  This song is saying things that people wouldn’t have dared to even think let alone sing when I was growing up and thank God we’ve come so far that artists can sing about being whole in the face of socio-religious doctrine which insists that parts of us are defective and evil.  This is the song that is played when I need to draw courage to speak words that need to be spoken.  If I have second thoughts about things I write or need to boost my resolve to commit to written words that I could never speak out loud.  It’s the song in the background as I sit at my desk, writing furiously in front of the computer or attacking a printed manuscript with a relentless red pen.

That leaves the victorious anthem.  This is the song that plays during the feel good moments on the bounce back from dark times.  It’s the one that plays under the montage.  It’s hard to pick just one because there are so many that help define moments in my life.  It’s like the classic film “Dream a Little Dream” in which a bulk of the movie is edited together to support the soundtrack playlist.  If I were to pick just one, today, it would be “Affirmation” by Savage Garden for the simple reason that it captures so much of what I actually believe and for which I try to advocate. 

This is just a visual glimpse of the soundtrack that I would put to the movie of my life.  The problem with trying to do a list like this is that so many songs don’t come to mind until you hear them and they stir memories or connect with experiences in your mind.  As I think about how to wrap this post up there’s a little voice in the back of my head protesting my list and demanding to know why I didn’t include any number of other meaningful music.  Fortunately I managed to distract that voice by asking which actor should be cast in the starring role.  Who should play me?

What about you?  What music marks moments in your life?  What songs serve as touchstones for your story?  What musical artist helps you define yourself and the themes of your story?

Here's a link to the Huffington Post article on The Truman Show Delusion.

Here's a link to Sinead O'Connor's music video for "Nothing Compares to You."

Here's a link to video featuring "Parce Mihi Domine" by Jan Garbarek and The Hilliard Ensemble.

Here's a lyric video for Troye Sivan's "Heaven" featuring Betty Who.

Here's a link to "Affirmation" by Savage Garden.