When It Happened
Middle age is in my past. My t-shirt says, “Beware, second childhood in progress.” When people ask, I tell them it’s an old shirt. I’m long past that.
At 27, I knew everything (we all do). I would live forever. By age 40, I thought I might not live that long. Around then, I was sure that other’s opinion of me was paramount. I included everyone, especially any man who could possibly effect my life personally or financially.
Unfortunately, I often said what I thought – more than I would now. Today, I’m unlikely to answer personal questions. I may. But usually I want time to be calm and ponder consequences.
Back in the day, if my boss told me to do something that I felt was against my personal opinion, I would say, “No, sir.” Often, this happened in front of people. I enjoyed two things about it: watching him try to hide his anger (if he did) and some other middle-managers joining my mini-revolt. I wasn’t intentionally a trouble-maker. It just turned out that way.
What It Was Like
Looking back to my forties and fifties, a lot happened – both good and bad. But, I recall the difficult times well. In the 90s, I lived away from my family as a weekend commuter for two years. I drank way too much and began to ponder things that I’d never thought about. I was confused about life. I was not happy, and may have been clinically depressed. I was surrounded by others in worse shape than I, thus my problems went unnoticed. I was fine with that. Men do not have such issues, right? No longer did I feel safe. I didn’t understand the rules or what to do. I had morphed into a people pleaser, but I wouldn’t have admitted it.
Add to this, my wife had gone to work and was living as a single parent on weekdays (and nights). She had her issues too. And we had teenagers who’d aged up to their early twenties. Life was not easy for us or them – certainly not emotionally. Denial was my strength and maybe hers. Our dysfunctional family was extended and there were problems in that area over the horizon.
Possible Consequences
I’ll spare you details. But during the 1990s all hell broke loose in my life and I thought it had gone into the proverbial toilet.
I recall giving consideration to suicide. I also seriously considered homicide. To be clear, while I never seriously intended either, I considered both as solutions as I never had. But then, I made an important decision. I decided that I would try everything possible to get over it. If my life was not working, it would not be my fault.
If you type middle age American male in Google, you’ll find articles relating to suicide, alcoholism and drug addiction, and the almost inevitable consequence of death. Middle age male suicide is a bigger problem today than 20 years ago. But I can relate to middle aged men today who secretly struggle with something they don’t understand. Looking back over the years, I think I figured out a few things.
What I Did
I like to joke that I’m recovering from middle age. But, I am simply living my life. My life is good now, but recovery is an ongoing process. While many of my decisions may have been random, they seemed logical at the time. I was desperate, but knowing that I was not alone mattered.
I read books on self-help, mental health, and recovery – all were about mental and physical well-being. I attended counseling sessions for family members. I became active in a 12-step program. I started to learn about eastern religious thought and philosophy. I took a deep and detailed (analytical) look at myself. I did that twice, six months apart. This was much less about who I am and more about me being me, or me not being me, but being what others thought I should be. This may seem minor; it wasn’t.
My discovery was two-fold: I didn’t know myself, and I wasn’t being true to myself. I couldn’t be. This was important for me to figure out because the solution that followed was not complicated.
My change was from the inside-out, and from the outside-in. I simply was myself. While I could continue to be a good employee, a good friend, a reasonably nice person, and a willing family member; I no longer identified myself by what others thought I should be – what I should think or what I should feel. I was not only ‘okay’ with this. I was delighted. It was not a new me, but just me being me. That is the way I saw it. My motivation was inside and based on how I felt. But as I changed my behavior, that effected more emotional adjustments, which led to being more able to do more with my behavior.
A short while after all this my son told my wife that he didn’t recognize me because of the changes. That was 20 years ago. I’ve hung onto that way of thinking ever since. Being comfortable as me (‘in my own skin’ is the cliché) did not change my life so much as it revealed my life to myself. Now, as a senior American male, I am still as wrong and as programmed as anyone. But when I realize my error, I’ve learned to admit it quickly.
How It Turns Out
As much as I like the phrase, it is what it is; I have my own motto: It is all about how we feel.
Probably my most positive boost has been retirement. No longer subject to the corporate nonsense and politics, I feel “free at last” to keep moving forward with my life on my terms. Virtually all that drama is in the past, and there it shall remain (at least for me).
May you find a path through life that is long and revealing. While giving up is an option, may you never choose it as long as you have any others yet to try. May your days of light be long and may your dark days pass quickly. May you be constantly aware; you are not alone. We are one.
There are too many blocks to mention each one. We all sometimes have blocks.
Einstein was interested in both creativity and music. He tied the two, even suggesting he would be a musician, were he not a physicist.
er source your creative ideas flow, may they flow to you in abundance. May you be orgasmic, chilled and thrilled with ideas, concepts, and plans. May you make the best of all your days being creative and doing your thing (art, writing, music, etc.) and enjoying the universal gifts shared by others. May the spirit of duende haunt your heart and mind, thus bringing you to a spiritual bliss as only we humans can experience.
I do believe that to a degree, suffering is optional. I’ve seen people suffer unnecessarily, and I’ve seen those same people get over it.
I think that what Liz bemoans is using suffering as justification to be creative, talented, or gifted, thus making an excuse for hanging on to the bottom. We shouldn’t suffer just because we think it improves our work. I’m concerned because I know people die on the bottom. I’ve experienced great things from living artists, suffering or not – nothing from the dead ones.
To love what you do, and the love of doing it, even when it is gruelingly difficult (and maybe more so when it is) may be the answer. What I’ve read seems to recommend this. Love your art! Do it for the love of the work, the art, the creativity, the experience. As Stephen King says, do it for the “buzz.”
Is it all that important to be a thin, white, dark-haired, strong, male member of this country? We seem to think so. I hope that continues to change.
I am retired. All the shit/crap that I put up with for all those years of school (nuns-groan), yes, sir and no, sir; kissing up to very few idiot bosses (most were great), scrimping and saving and working – it was all worth it. As my wife would say, “Rave on, dog shit!” And so I do. Every day is a weekend and I can do what I want (with her permission—I’m old, not stupid) whenever.
Fear is normal. We all experience it and depending on the circumstance, it is a prudent thing. Mostly, we seem to fear the unknown. I like many lines in the movie As Good as it Gets, staring Jack Nicholson as Melvin Udall. One of them is Udall to patients in a psychiatrist’s waiting room, “What if this is as good as it gets?” While things may get worse, what if they will not get better. Strange as that may seem, if true, the shrink will soon be out of business. Each patient’s fear may remain in that their problem may get worse, but now they could focus on dealing with life from a different (albeit less hopeful) situation.
A child playing shortstop has a line-drive hit directly at them, they will likely duck and the ball may go into the outfield, thus the batter gets on base. This is true due to a justified fear of being hit with rock-hard baseball suddenly streaking like a rocket toward their head. An experienced shortstop may adjust body position slightly, but will watch the ball and attempt to catch it. The latter is the safest choice in most cases. Experience and confidence payoff successfully in this case. The batter is out!
It is indeed true. Fear is there. It can be helpful or harmful. It depends on how we manage and deal with it.
I’ve been trying to figure out how to review Elizabeth Gilbert’s book. Developing a plan for a contrary opinion of Big Magic is like trying to figure out how to swim upstream against hordes of powerful whales and others going against me. The book has an 89% four/five-star approval on Amazon. The high praise of editorial reviews includes: #1 Globe best seller, the Washington Post, Cosmopolitan, Huffington Post, Daily Beast, Harper’s Bazaar, Christian Science Monitor, New York Times, Associated Press, Yahoo, Seattle Times, USA Today, Vanity Fair, O Magazine, San Antonio Express News, and a few of my friends.
In trying to figure out how to handle reviewing her book, I’ve decided not to. Instead, I plan to write several blogs on creativity and associated aspects of that human phenomenon, paying special attention to writing, my own issues, and my point of view. I also plan to add other books and input from others to the mix. If you have suggestions or input, please add your comment.
Two memories from my youth relate to this post. I recall my mother frequently telling me that I was contrary. She would say, “Now Billy, stop being so contrary.” She could have chosen from many words: obstinate, difficult, stubborn, negative, or silly. Actually, that’s not true. She used silly a lot, as in, “Silly-Billy.” I actually liked being called silly and still do. Today, such a fun-loving attitude coupled with silly behavior would prevent a diagnosis of Oppositional Defiance Disorder (ODD).
As a youngster, I did have more than my share of confrontations with adults, especially those in positions of authority. I admit it. Mom was right (aren’t they all?). I was often contrary and many synonymous terms applied equally well. I confess that I enjoyed being difficult, most of the time. Sometimes, I paid for it. Some say I never outgrew my contrarian attitude.
The other memory comes from the time of my early to mid-teens. I don’t know where if came from, but we adapted a phrase for a while that was intentionally meaningless, but we said it – a lot. It was kind of an early version of whatever! We would say it to each other and often to adults. We always knew exactly what the adult retort would be. The locution was Yeah, but, or yeahbut. Today, the Urban Dictionary says yeahbut should be followed by f**k, but we seldom used those words in combination.
However; yet, nevertheless, nonetheless, even so, still, notwithstanding, in spite of that, for all that, and all the same; I do like butts. Some more than others.
The End of Faith has been reviewed extensively since its first publication, but I need to pipe my opinion. With my gradual understanding and knowledge of Sam Harris, this book came to my attention as an eventuality. I’ve read only one other of his books (Islam and The Future of Tolerance), but I intend to read them all. I like his approach and what is, in my opinion, his open mind regarding universal principles which not everyone (atheist or not) shares. Anyone who thinks that all atheists share the same thoughts, opinions, or principles with each other does not understand them. The thesis of this book is no exception.
Our Literary Journey 