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Extraordinary
So, tell me, do you love yourself? Six years ago, this week, I sat on a therapist’s couch (yes, she really had a couch) and asked me that question. I couldn’t answer. Frozen by brutal, soul crushing truth that I hated who and what I was, at that time in my life. She talked to me some more, recommended books to read, and told me to write love letter to myself. It all seemed stupid. Not intellectually, but it seemed ridiculous because I was ill-equipped to even try.
Years have gone by and I’ve deconstructed that sad fool who sat on a really comfortable sofa asnwering nosey queries. Now, I try to extend the knowledge I’ve acquired through experience to my wife and three daughters. I tell them every day how beautiful, talented, and special they are and can be. I know the cynics (I used to be one so, go screw yourself, I know the secret handshake, jackass) reading this will say I’m setting my kids up for failure. This is a cruel, hard world that will slap them in the face if they walk around with so much sunshine blown into their behinds. Maybe. But at least they won’t have to fight the devils of each day doubting themselves and wondering if they’re loved.
If you haven’t been keeping up with the villains of the internet, let me introduce you to British journalist, Samantha Brick.
Samantha’s basic tenet is her life is really friggin hard because she’s so beautiful, women hate her, men don’t take her seriously, and she’s unapologetic because her dad told her how awesome she was growing up.
The first column she wrote, about two weeks ago, I reacted the same way you just did. “What a delusional, arrogant, snotty little twit.”
This latest column, discussing how her father’s great love bestowed on her gave her this abundance of self-confidence, makes me kind of dig her point of view.
Sam Brick is about my age, early 40s, and I’m a bit envious of her chest thumping. I don’t take compliments well. I think I’m below average looking. I wonder, despite my wife being completely great to me, if I’m good enough to hang with her.
Miss Brick has a point. Maybe if parents, especially fathers, said and did the things women need to hear growing up and later as adults, we wouldn’t have as many eating disorders, suicides, and plastic surgeons wouldn’t ever do another boobie job again? Strip clubs would close down tomorrow and “daddy issues” would become a a great ironic all-girl punk rock band name instead of the reason young girls get on a pole.
Everytime I hear the great Liz Phair’s Extraordinary, I want to implant the tune in my three daughters ears, especially my teenager, and tell them to never stop listening. As many female readers and writing friends as I’ve gathered over the past two years, I say, from the bottom of my robot heart, you’re extraordinary, too. Really, turn this song up, and listen to what Liz, Samantha and I are saying. You’re extraordinary.
19th Nervous Breakdown
“Daddy, what’s puberty?”
The perfect ending to a terrible week. Her gorgeous eight-year-old blue eyes caught my fearful surprise and I stopped playing with my phone mid-tweet. Over my right shoulder was a brochure that read “Puberty for Girls, How To Have The Conversation”. You know, what, American Medical Association? How about, not putting that pamphlet in a doctor’s exam room where you wipe noses and check fevers!
You’ve read about our deceased kitten, Jerri, on Monday http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2012/01/24/animal/ That started a domino fall of crap that included work stress, financial strife, the worst anxiety attack I’ve had in over two years, writing angst with both the Robots novel and my beloved Helene story then finally, a sick middle child asking about boobies and periods.
I don’t lie to my children. I also don’t hide things or distract them from pertinent information. I have a blended family of multiple parents, baggage that Delta could make a fortune off of, and so many screwed up issues that would keep self-help authors busy for decades. In my house, we talk, a lot.
“Lyla, honey, do you really want to know?”
Nursing a sour stomach due to a viral infection, I thought she may be too dehydrated and tired. No. She wanted the skinny on female development. She smirked, then smiled and let me have the hard time.
“Daddy, just tell me. You’re supposed to tell me everything.”
I referenced her 16-year-old sister. There was discussion of bras, the body cleaning itself, and becoming a woman. My stomach grew sick. I think my heart stopped beating once or twice. The doctor bolted into the room like an NFL defensive end busting up a play action pass. I felt safe.
After we were done. My daughter and I walked across the lobby and saw the same brochure. I was screwed.
“Okay, daddy, so when I’m sixteen like Tay Tay (her older sister Taylor) that means I’ll be a woman with boobies and periods?”
I just wanted to be drunk or away or not in the moment. I put my hands over my face and audibly sighed.
“Sweetie, you will always be my little girl. Your sister isn’t a woman but her body is preparing her to be one. Promise me you’ll ask you mom about this next time?”
She laughed. An actual guffaw. Not a giggle. Not even a chuckle. It was an obvious, malice aforethoughted laugh. I still love her, but at that moment I wanted to lock her in a room with no windows.
“Thanks, daddy. I like it when you talk to me.”
Parenting is hard. Really, friggin hard. I have 3 daughters.
Excuse me while I get back to my 19th nervous breakdown….
The Talk
Hey, you got a few minutes? There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss. I think it’s important. I know you know some of what I’m about to go over. Your friends, your family, the lovely internets; they all have information. I just don’t think you’re going to hear the truth, the real hardcore, TRUTH about what drugs and alcohol are and can do to you. Most people won’t admit what they’ve done and how, if any of it, was positive.
I was young, about 15, when I first started drinking alcohol. I did it because my friends were drinking. I wanted to fit in and see if it would make me feel cool, older, even help me be comfortable around the opposite sex. You know, it did. It’s fool’s gold. What I mean is the high is temporary. When you start drinking, you have no idea what a tolerance is, so you drink too much for your body and you’ll either throw up, get sleepy, or lose your inhibitions so much you’ll do something regretful, if you remember it at all.
Don’t get me wrong, is partying fun? Yes. Blowing off steam can make great memories. The catch about doing it with alcohol or drugs, which we’ll get to in a minute, is, you don’t remember everything. There were concerts by great bands that alcohol took away my recollection of how good the show was or wasn’t. This is why, in 1994, when I saw The Rolling Stones in the Meadowlands in Jersey, I stayed sober. The show was amazing.
The only other thing I want to tell you about drinking is, if you ever consume alcohol stay out of a car. That means don’t drive one impaired and never get in one with someone who’s looped. I’ve lost several friends over the years because they made that mistake.
Drugs are a different ballgame. Most of the greatest music recorded, books written, masterpieces painted and sculpted were from artists higher than kites in March wind. But drugs are bad. I want to tell you to never do drugs but I don’t want to be pious or arrogant. Drugs can be fun. They work. Some of them work really well. But fallout from doing them is even greater than booze.
People seem to love marijuana. It chills them out. It takes away stress, even more than booze does. It never did anything for me. It makes me sleepy, hungry, and paranoid. I can be all three of those things without testing positive for on a drug test. I don’t know if the mary jane is addictive. I think chemical makeup of a person is way unstudied and definitely under discussed. Do I think an mj habit can be detrimental to ambition. Yes? The penalties for getting caught with weed are too severe for having it and trying it. I don’t recommend it, at all.
The only other drugs I’ve tried are cocaine and LSD. I’m here to tell you, they are even better than advertised. They are also really dangerous. I had good and bad experiences with both. There was a time in my life when coke dominated my days and nights. I’m ashamed of this. Cocaine caused some long term heart problems that I deal with today. It also made me dependent on bad people. I understand the allure but I’ve never seen a person who does hard drugs succeed in life, other than artists and I believe they’re the exception. Of course, most of them are dead. It’s like making a deal with the devil. You get short-term awesome, then long-term misery.
Drugs and alcohol are bad. But, like anything, moderation is a key. If you are in a controlled environment with people you trust and no automobiles to drive or police to arrest you and the amount is small, then substances can be a unique experience. But, just like eating McDonald’s everyday is bad, so are drugs and alcohol.
Just promise me you’ll come talk to me if you’re ever in a situation where you need help, advice, or a ride with no judgement til the next day.
****blogger’s note****
Yesterday my friend Scarlet, aka @Scarlet_Ibis was at a D.A.R.E lecture at her daughter’s school and she was struck by the lies and misinformation given. A year or so ago my teenage daughter was given a talk to by her mother and I about booze and dope. It was like you read above. Since my history with both is more chequered than my wife’s I got thrown under the bus and yet, no one died or hated me. In my opinion, this is the talk that needs to be given, not just say no. Feel free to agree or disagree. It’s the internets. Come at me bro.
Today’s song is what they should teach in schools. It’s Lynyrd Skynyrd, 34 years ago, giving you everything you need to know about drugs and alcohol. Here’s That Smell….
Sick of Myself
I have a recently required talent that I’m excited to share. I can say the word no.
A very nice person with a huge heart, named Kirsten Doyle, challenged me to write something for Indie Ink. Kirsten runs a website called http://runningforautism.com/. After you spend 60 seconds there, you will see she is a unique person who probably doesn’t say no a lot. I’m like this, although I’m getting better than I used to be. Instead of creating another fictional piece with my female rocker, serial killer poisoner, or melodramatic robot-human hybrids, I’m going to tell you why I live with so much regret, thus fulfilling Kirsten’s challenge. of “write about the missed opportunity you regret the most”.
I self analyze a lot.. It would be really easy for me to prattle on about being a people pleaser, the oldest child, the lone male in a house and life full of women, and the friend to so many others. The point I want to share, and I hope, if you relate, you’ll gather wisdom from, is being about yourself is actually a good thing. If you don’t look after you, then you’ll be worthless to others. Regardless of how much you do for them, they won’t appeciate it or you if all you do is give.
I’ve written about turning down major job offers, walking away from being a news and sports reporter, and almost hooking up with Trisha Yearwood. Those opportunities pale to the one I missed 5 1/2 years ago. After getting out of a relationship where I did a lot for someone who didn’t give a damn, I looked in the mirror and swore “I’ll put myself first and that will work”. Then I made all the wrong friends, let the old relationship dictate my personal life, and never said the word no to anyone. As you can imagine, it didn’t take long for me to be miersable and regretful, again.
I have responsiblities as a husband and a parent that are neither negotiable nor are they arguable. Kids have to be in school and later picked up. Money has to spent on things. I have learned to partner with my wife and 3 daughters. They get me. I’m making the most of my second chance with them. We have fewer friends. We don’t go out that much. Sometimes I wonder if a straight jacket comes in a medium with a mock turtleneck.
I’ll never miss that brass ring again. Before you ask, the answer is no, I’m busy.
****blogger’s note****
AS mentioned this is my response to Kirsten Doyle’s http://runningforautism.com/ Indie Ink challenge http://indieink.org “write about the missed opportunity you regret the most” . I challenged Headant http://headant.com with “write from the point of view of someone with Insomnia, you haven’t slept more than 1 hour in a week.”
Today’s song is probably more indictative of what I used to be alike. I’m in a Matthew Sweet mood today and I want to play this. It’s from his second record, 100% Fun, his second most famous album. It’s self deprecation and false ending is very representaive of my personality. Here’s Sick of Myself…
Thrash Unreal
“Yeah, we’re behaving. John wanted to wind down and get something to eat after the concert. We’re at Waffle House. I’m going to order some eggs and hashbrowns, then take him back to his hotel. I love you too, bye,”
“Checking in with the boss?”
“Dude you did the same thing in the bathroom, don’t tell me any different.”
“Ha! Yeah, she asked me if I was still upright since it’s 4 hours past my bedtime.”
“Yeah, well, my wife knew you and Pearl Jam being in town at the same time was a greater phenomena than Halley’s Comet so she insisted I go to the show and stay out all night. Of course that means I have kid duty and 123 chores tomorrow.”
“You mean today, slick. It’s 2 o’clock in the morning. It’s zombie stripper time right now. Speaking of which, look who just got off of the main stage two booths over.”
“Dude, that’s someone’s daughter. I bet her story is heart breaking.”
“What? Living in a house full of women has made you a Lifetime Network candy ass. She’s a stripper.”
“I see it different and keep your voice down. Fiver says that girl had a bad home life, got screwed over by a boyfriend or seven, and is just trying to get by or least maintain her gutter level existence. You have a son. You better be teaching him that treating girls well is what prevents Sierra grinding it out for three songs.”
“What would you do if one of your daughters ended up liked that girl over there?”
“After I beat you senseless for asking the question, I’d consider her lot in life my fault. Respect for women is the difference between working for tips from drunks and being the first female President, which one of my 3 daughters will be. Somebody or a collection of somebodies failed that girl.”
“Tom, you know you bummed out a really good conversation about tits and ass, right?”
“Eh, I’d rather talk about Pearl Jam’s encores. My ears are still ringing.”
“I think we just had a boring grown up moment, maybe we should ditch the waffles and go get arrested, like the old days.”
“As awesome as that sounds, I’m starving and my wife and I did the budget for the month the other day. I don’t have enough in the bank for bail money and a rock concert. “
**********blogger’s note**********
This is my contribution to Katie’s The Lightning and the Lightning Bug http://thewriteandthewrongword.blogspot.com/ prompt “Talk it Out”. The assignment was write a scene or story using only dialogue. John is in regular type, Tom is in bold. This is all inspired by today’s song by Florida punk band Against Me! One of my favorite tunes of the past 10 years is Thrash Unreal. It’s about the type of girl Tom and John see in the diner booth. She’s every father’s nightmare but also a cautionary tale of how she got there. This song is brutally awesome but the lyrics are raw and real. Enjoy.
