“The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” Sylvia Plath. I wrote one of the best jokes of my life to accompany this quote, but due to the nature of her death, I can’t risk demonstrating how tone-deaf I am.
I’m infamous for carrying index cards everywhere. To jot down thoughts, draw/doodle, note reminders, pranks, or actual important messages.
I’ve always known that messages on index cards carry weight, but recently I’ve been practicing and refining my delivery. It’s led to some hilarious and amusing results: most people just believe whatever you’re reading from an index card, even if I’m looking at a blank card or one that has nothing to do with whatever I’m saying.
Psychologically, if it appears you’re reading something off an index card, people will be more gullible about its alleged contents. It’s evocative of the Uniform Effect.
You can use this to your advantage, whether it is to make up a fake phone message, statistic, reminder, or important information.
Just telling them somehow lessens the credibility compared to “reading” it from an index card. People don’t just write crazy stuff on index cards, do they?
Love, X
“I’m writing my book in fifth person, so every sentence starts out with: “I heard from this guy who told somebody …” Demetri Martin
I walked into the early morning storeroom, flipping the lights on and making the first pot of coffee. I knew it would be different without her, on her first day of retirement. So I posted this on her door, the one that now opens to an absence.
At 2 a.m. I stood out on the landing, looking at the glow of the fairy lights I strung yesterday. Güino excitedly examined them with me. When I looked up toward Gregg Avenue, a fox was running South down the middle of the street. It was an unexpected sight. I hope to see more such things today.
.
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When we went inside, I rolled him with a lint roller, still one of his favorite things.
“It is a curious thought, but it is only when you see people looking ridiculous that you realize just how much you love them.” Agatha Christie
I posted this picture because it is one of the best ridiculous pictures of me I have. Coffee, happiness, love, youth: a recipe for the perfect life. I still have a great life and great people in it.
No, I’m not afraid of brain-eating zombies. For some reason, every year they ignore me and increasingly so as I get older. It’s a good lesson that there are benefits to failing to apply the lessons I’ve learned. I get to use the joke every year that if brain-eating zombies do invade, I’m going to run into a conference room full of middle managers. Zombies instinctively know that there aren’t any functioning brains in such a room.
“If you can’t beat them, arrange to have them beaten.” —George Carlin
“During the day, I don’t believe in ghosts. At night, I’m a little more open-minded.” – Anonymous. The same is true for the tricks my mind plays on me when I get anxious. As the night falls and the hour grows quiet, my mind stretches and starts its gymnastics. Being creative sometimes has its drawbacks, as it allows me to take a minor concern and let it blow like those billowing air devices at car washes. Last night, I took melatonin which previously had little effect on me. It brought strange dreams, one of which brought an infinite loop of the “Kiss From a Rose – Jesus Loves Marijuana” from the tv show “Community.” I woke up still hearing the song in my head. It’s a fitting song for the last day of October.
After waiting a bit too long, I went to the doctor Friday (finally!) and started taking 1/2 doses of Lexapro. Many months ago, the clinic told me to come in if I really needed to; when I did, my doctor was at another clinic and the other doctors deferred due to it being anxiety-related rather than a medical need. That’s when I immediately reached out for counseling. It bothered me a great deal that they’d turned me away when I was honest and said I needed to be seen. So few people just come right out and say so. I’ve watched so many people fail to be honest about what’s going on in their heads and lives; most choose alternate forms of self-medication.
I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I have insurance. Surgeons saved my life six weeks ago. I’ve lasted 16+ years in my job and I appreciate it in a way that I didn’t up until a year ago. This last year has been five years long. I’ve had so many great experiences despite the bad ones. There are some exceptional people in my life, some of whom were hiding in plain sight. They didn’t change and suddenly become open; I did.
My doctor didn’t really hesitate to prescribe me something less powerful, especially due to the fact that I’m seeing a counselor and seem to be very aware of how my body and mind react. He might not have thought so before my crazy weight loss journey and exuberant confidence about other areas of my life. Apart from all the other issues I’ve had with the clinic, the doctor told me again he had never seen a person just SAY they were going to be thin and just do it without any structured program or surgery. He told me to remember that it is an accomplishment worthy of maintenance. And that he fully expected my anxiety to be temporary. His certainty was a welcome addition to my medical visit. I joked that since medical bills were a part of my cyclical worry, that I appreciated his pro bono treatment. He laughed. For a brief second, I thought of Leslie Nielsen in “Airplane!” when he said, “You can tell me, I’m a doctor.”
You know that the doctor thinks you’re going to live a while longer when they agree to bill you. That’s optimism in action.
Due to my cousin’s advice, I refrained from hiding behind the door to scare the doctor this time, even though it’s Halloween. I wanted to take my stylish brown sheet and ‘ghost’ him, so to speak. Instead of leaning away from the truth, I told the doctor that I thought he might not appreciate the level of my anxiety if he based it on how much I LOVE a good laugh and how I interact with his staff. He told me that he learned a long time ago that people’s internal issues rarely intersect evenly with their personalities. I told him my feedback loop theory and he nodded. To make him laugh, I told him Ronnie Shake’s hilarious quote: “My doctor gave me two weeks to live. I hope they’re in August.” To his credit, the doctor did burst out laughing.
Walgreens committed another in a long line of unexpected and hard to believe messes. I switched to CVS – late on Friday afternoon, no less. There are several stories I’m omitting here for brevity. I’m just shaking my head about it.
Note: it’s not recommended to grind up and snort this sort of medication. Not because it makes it less effective, but it leaves people with the impression that coke is making a comeback. The protein powder I sometimes eat raw directly from the canister probably already sends the wrong message when it sticks in my mustache.
I’ll let y’all know how it’s affected me when I figure it out and it’s built up in my system. If you see me pretending to ice skate while wearing banana slippers, just wave and ask me to put some pants on.
I look forward to my old optimism kicking back into full gear. That I need a serotonin boost doesn’t embarrass me in the slightest. That brain-eating zombies don’t think I’m worth the effort bothers me a bit.
“The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire.” Ferdinand Foch
Tonight, I sat at the end of a long table, looking toward a gathering of current and former coworkers. Atop the table was an assortment of good drinks, appetizers, and good food. More importantly, the perimeter of the table was lined with people connected to one person. The purpose of the get-together was a send-off to Leigh, someone who dedicated decades to work. They let me do a toast and I lit it up with a bit of humor and a dose of sincerity. I opened my toast with the Andy Bernard (The Office) quote: “I wish there were a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left the good old days.” I reminded everyone that as we gathered there, we had experienced those good days with Leigh and that tonight, we had to face the realization that not only had these been the good old days, but that they were drawing to a close, as all such times must do. Leigh’s shoes can’t be filled.
I laughed dozens of times. I teared up a couple, both due to the people sitting around me, as well the backdrop of time overlapping from memory and transposing itself onto the fact I knew I’d remember that moment for the rest of my life.
I left the restaurant with a fuller heart but also a slight wound there, too. Bittersweet moments both rejuvenate and pierce one’s heart.
As much as Leigh looks forward to retirement, I know she mourns the loss of people who’ve occupied her waking hours for so many years. I miss her already. I try to imagine what was in her heart as she looked around at us laughing and sharing stories.
Part of the sting is the knowledge that endings are a constant companion to our lives.
And if we can’t remember to bow our heads in reverence to the life we’ve been graciously given, we’re doing it wrong. Leigh was never one to get the doldrums about life; she graciously accepts the highs and lows as well as anyone I’ve ever met. Her faith takes care of the rest.
We gave our bon voyage as a group tonight. After tomorrow, she’ll find a new way to focus her energy. We’ll stay behind, each waiting our turn to say our goodbyes.
For tonight, laughter, good food, and a bittersweet farewell to a kind, funny person.
We’ll miss you, Chihuahua!
Love, X
P.S. Leigh took this picture. I told her I would add words to reach her heart.
Someone sent this quote to me today, to remind me that one of the best qualities in a person is their willingness to speak their truth and have faith that it will land authentically. Not because it is a universal truth, but because it is your truth. Concealing your innermost self is the surest road to unhappiness. All of us have experienced the growing burden of needing to say what’s on our minds but feel as if we can’t or shouldn’t. If you’re surrounded by loving people, it is very hard to say the wrong thing. Pay attention to your urge to silence what is growing in your mind or things you need to say.
The person read my post about anxiety on my blog and wrote me to say that it wasn’t until that moment that they realized they were fooling themselves into believing they were self-sufficient.
The fool on the far right with the fluorescent ‘X” on his jacket is me. I was the flower girl when my Mom and Dad remarried each other. They remarried exactly 29 years after their first marriage. 10,483 days have passed since this picture was taken.
My parents really were experts at drinking and driving. But for this moment, no matter how terrible the road behind them, they were happy. Dad died nine months later. Mom was not charged. (That last sentence is supposed to make you laugh.)
It is the only picture I know of where everyone was smiling. Even my brother Mike was smiling with glee. I wish I could always remember him, and Carolyn and Bobby Dean, like this.
Everyone in the picture is dead now – except for me. Dad died at 49, Mike at 54, and Mom at 67.
It’s strange that you can go to the ER with just about anything and be seen. But if you try to go to the doctor for anxiety, you almost have to walk in naked. (Telling them you expected to get undressed once inside doesn’t bring laughter though, for some reason.) Assuming they don’t use Covid as a buffer to keep people out. So many people suffer with anxiety or depression and never step forward to address it, much less be honest with those around them. They carry secret feedback loops in their head forever, the burden of it growing. Some succumb to alcohol, others to anything that might give them temporary relief. For some, those temporary measures become permanent. Or lead them to make decisions that aren’t in their self-interest. Anyone who steps forward in the smallest way is trying to communicate that they aren’t managing their heads well. It’s easy to dismiss it or look away from people around you showing signs of being stuck. Some of it is because we don’t want to embarrass or meddle in other people’s lives. That’s what we’re here for, though. Without people around us, often even as they drive us a little batsh!t crazy, we let the shadows grow.
For people who say, “Anxiety isn’t real. It’s just worry repackaged and something in hour head.” To which I reply, “Love is unreal in the same sense, but it can be the most uplifting and rewarding thing you can experience. How can you believe in love but not anxiety?” Of course, people look at me like I’m crazy. And not just because I’m prepared to walk into my doctor’s clinic naked.
Over the weekend, someone I’d never expect to suffer from worsening anxiety posted on Facebook about his struggle. He’s the quintessential go-getter and intelligent. I recommended he see a doctor and start on low-dosage medication and treat the problem as if it is very serious. Because it is. Intelligent people are the worst about trying to tread water when there is help available. “It’s all just in my head” is a literal diagnosis rather than a way to dismiss anxiety or its more serious sibling, depression.
Recently, someone I’m close to had a shocking mental health surprise in their family. It broke my heart. Not just because they are good people but because I’m certain it was a hammer strike of surprise in their lives and hearts. Finding out put an icicle in my own head. It made my anxiety seem ridiculous but simultaneously warned me to be more careful. I don’t conceal my anxiety issues because I know that secrecy is poisonous. I wish that people were more open to their struggles and that our medical system would help anyone needing counseling or medication. From my observation, it’s more important now than ever.
We like to observe that people are becoming more callous. They’re not. Our world has shifted into a different corner, one in which people are more isolated or disconnected. Disconnectedness invariably leads to greater problems. We’re social animals and as more people retreat away from the world, the greater the likelihood they’re experiencing mental trauma. Not everyone has obvious clues such as excessive drinking. Some look completely normal and in control of themselves. Until they’re not. A great number of our friends, family, and acquaintances have well-guarded addictions and afflictions.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 