I got a fortune cookie the other day with a disconcerting message: “The purpose of your life is to be a cautionary tale for others.”
Sounds about right.
I started this little newsletter project during a time that I thought was the end of a long struggle. I was finally ready to “rebuild my life.” I had thought I might have a little bit of wisdom to share as I dug out of it. Hoo boy. Turns out that dark time was just a preview of adventures to come. Basically, as far as life-rebuilds go, it’s kind of somewhere near the lodgepole pine colonoscopy end of the spectrum.
People who know what’s going on say things like, “I don’t know how you do it,” or, “I can’t imagine how you’re able to function.” My answer is that it’s basically daily miracles, but there are a few things that I do consistently, if not consciously, to meet the duties and responsibilities (like performing at work, or keeping the house in order) despite feeling like I’ve been disemboweled. Here’s my Top 5:
Number One: Breathe
That’s it, pretty much. When the Thing hits you, whatever it is, take long, slow, deep breathes.
A storm came through last Sunday morning. It knocked out power for about a half-million people in the Tulsa area. I was without power for four days. My office got hit, too, so we phone bank customer service reps had to find alternate locations. Mine was the main HQ tower downtown.
I gotta say - since I got to Tulsa, I’d been looking forward to working there. It’s a 50-story monolith to stability, community, and for me, if I ever made it inside, acceptance back into the normal world of happy, employed workers.
Except…the reality turned out to be different. My off-site location has a glass wall spanning the building. Natural light all day long. A view to the horizon marred only by pot dispensaries and the Hustler store. Inside the HQ monolith, it’s a cube farm. It’s cramped and has the wrong kind of solitude.
By the end of my shift there on the second day I was in that dark place again. I’ll spare you the details, but if Door Dash offered cyanide, I would have signed up.
On the drive home, the weight of everything was so bad I actually gasped. And then…hey. Look at that. I felt a little better. So I sucked in another big gulp of humid, overheated Tulsa air. A little better. One more time, and, will you look at that? I’m making life plans.
Breathing. Go fig. It’s almost as if it’s life-giving.
Number 2: Acknowledge the Pain
Whatever is eating your lunch, don’t pretend it’s not happening. Don’t bitch about the injustice of your hard-packed lunch being eaten by someone other than you. You’ve got to get some new lunch, man!
I’ve bitched about it for years. “XYZ is wrong! XYZ isn’t fair! Here are the top ten refutations why you eating my lunch is UNJUST!”
Guess what? It doesn’t matter. Lunch-eaters have their own narrative going on. Your lunch is their right.
So, just acknowledge it. That doesn’t mean you should leave your lunch unprotected (I’ll drop the lunch analogy now), it just means that bitching about it isn’t going to make you new peanut butter sandwiches. (Damn it! I’m in an analogy loop!) The reality is that it’s happening, and anything other than acknowledging it is untruth. And anything less than the Truth isn’t going to fix anything. More on that in a bit.
Number 3: Don’t try to get through it alone
It’s a freaking tragedy that it takes a tragedy to realize who your friends are. In my situation, I have actual angels carrying me through this, both friends and family, but also people who until now have been complete strangers or somewhere in between.
For example - I picked up some free boxes from a neighbor a couple of neighborhoods away. She seemed to be going for the perfect form of aging hippie. Silver hair, tie-dye t-shirt with some band that “You’ve probably never heard of,” and very liberal sprinklings of, “Maaaaan, and “Brother.” “Hi!” She said, as though we hadn’t seen each other in 49 years, because we hadn’t. “I’m Holly! But I go by my legal name on NextDoor because I figured I might as well use it before I die!”
Okay then.
She asked a number of polite questions, joyfully, until I couldn’t evade them anymore. “I have a bit of a family situation going on right now.” And then I studied the upper boughs of the maple tree in her yard.
She got it right away, but she didn’t ask for details. “This too shall pass,” she said a little more somberly. “I know what it’s like. You’re in the grinder, my friend. You will get through this.”
I don’t know Holly, but I’m quite sure I saw her wings. She’s one of many who weave the ties that bind. Friends, family, strangers. All conspicuously reaching out at the right time with the perfect message of hope.
So, you think you don’t have anyone like that? I bet you do. Reach out. Tell people, “Hey, I seem to have gotten my head caught in an industrial wood chipper.” You’ll be amazed at how many people have a crowbar.
Number 4: Get active. Get physical.
I get it. The tendency to sit on the couch and watch the Dune remake for the tenth time is strong. You’ve got three-quarters of a box of the second cheapest wine from Walmart, and you think, “Tomorrow I’ll hit the weights/go for a run/climb a tree.”
I’ve literally been there, and quite recently. But this isn’t my first Gladiatorial game, and I know exactly how powerful physical exercise is in these situations. I have ZERO desire to get up at 5AM to throw some weights around, but I do it. It’s not just Bro culture stuff - the mind needs the body to be fit and healthy. If it isn’t, the mind will be just as much of a toxic waste dump.
So, get up! Plan ahead - lay out your workout clothes near your bed so you have no delays or excuses. Go lift something heavy. Or punch a bag. Or go for a run - or even just a walk. JUST MOVE YOUR MEAT PUPPET, DAMN IT!
Number 5: Set a goal, establish a routine.
In the midst of your own crucible, you’re going to be tempted to say “nothing matters.” This is especially true if you’ve thrown yourself into whatever it was that you failed at - marriage, job, BOTH… I mean, failure sucks, but failing at the big, transcendent vocational stuff when you’ve put yourself into it so much that it became your identity? It’s the worst.
That’s why it’s so critical to flip “reason” and experience the bird and keep at it. The completely irrational audacity of it is worth at least a few ounces of endorphins.
Just don’t overdo it. If your marriage failed, don’t set a goal to be married by Christmas. If you lost your company, don’t expect to build something new right away. If you’re in the midst of an existential crisis and your limbs feel like concrete, just focus on the basics. Go back to Step 4: Get active. (That should probably be Step 1, actually…) Set a goal to work out every morning for a week. Once you’ve nailed that, work on two weeks. Make it challenging, but doable.
The End
These are the things that have kept me going through this lodgepole pin colonoscopy. It took almost two weeks of working through all of it, repeating all of them daily. Hourly. But it finally enabled me to start packing up my house and getting ready for Phase Two, or Three, or 15, or whatever the hell this is. Packing up my sons’ and daughters’ bedrooms was the hardest thing I could imagine, but I did it because I refused to lay down and just decompose.
What about prayer? Yes, there’s prayer. A lot of it. More intense and “feeling it” prayer than ever in my life. More about that in a bit.
Baby steps. Or smaller. Just keep going. Praying for you.