Hat Tricks

Posted on January 11, 2014 by Lorne Jaffe

If you’ve seen a photo of me, odds are I’m wearing a beat-up old Yankees cap. If you’ve met me in person, I probably was wearing either that hat or a NY Giants cap. Maybe a University of Michigan hat or one advertising my love for Breaking Bad. Maybe you think I’m a die-hard Yankee fan (I was, but not since 2001 when the dynasty broke up and the front office started making all the wrong moves…again). Maybe you think I’m losing my hair (I am a bit). Maybe you think I’m uncouth, unstylish or lazy. Maybe you haven’t noticed or thought about it at all even if I feel you have. Now that I’ve been chosen as a Blog Spotlight Reader at this year’s Dad 2.0 Summit, I’ve been thinking about it a lot because the fact is, I don’t know if I can get on that stage without it. My hat is my security blanket.

I normally feel uncomfortable in front of people, have felt that way for as long as I can remember, but I feel completely exposed if I’m not wearing a hat, as if someone, anyone can directly see the chaos, self-loathing and anxiety constantly cannoning through my mind. When my head’s covered, I feel less naked. Not in control – not by a long shot – but somehow more protected.

I started wearing a hat during day camp when I was free from school and family rules. I was able to slide the brim low so other kids couldn’t see my fear, especially when I developed severely emasculating gynecomastia (male breast enlargement that was finally corrected 10 years ago) at age 11 followed by a massive thatch of thick, black back hair (95% of which was zapped away over the past 3 years). I was already being bullied by kids and authority figures and already feeling unloved, cast out and like a failure by the time I started wearing my hat religiously (sometimes carrying it in my backpack and putting it on after school, for instance), but the onset of those two physical conditions forced me to be of aware of my body at all times coupled with a desperate need to hide it. My hat, I felt at the time, made me a little less conspicuous, though the irony is that it became just more bait for camp bullies (cruel games of keep-away, for instance). Even today it giveth and it taketh away. I feel a nagging need to wear my hat to feel better, but I also wonder who’s looking at me, who’s talking about the freak who always wears that damn battered Yankee cap as people sometimes did in college when I almost never took it off. Sometimes I wonder if my hat’s actually keeping me prisoner.

When I first started seeing my current therapist (my 4th and best by far), she asked me to take my hat off during session; I think she recognized instantly that I cling to it. It’s been around 6 years and my therapist says I’ve made enough progress that it’s completely my choice regarding wearing it, but still, one of the first things I do when I sit down with her is take off my hat. Sometimes I glance at it longingly and when things get very intense I’ll unconsciously reach out to touch the brim that normally shadows my face only to settle for nervously combing my fingers through my hair.

Sienna has no idea why Daddy’s always wearing a hat at family functions or when people are visiting or when we’re out in public, but she loves to play with it. She grabs it off my head, eyes and mouth all smiles and laughs, and tries to put it back on myself or Elaine. I don’t wear it when we’re alone in the apartment, but if she sees it she starts yelling, “Hat! Hat! Hat!” and clamors for me to put it on. My heart aches when she does this. Sometimes with love, but other times with uneasiness because I don’t want her to think of me of weak (and yes I know that’s irrational).

Sienna tries to uncover the mysterious within Daddy’s hat

So will I wear it on stage at Dad 2.0? I have no idea. Can I? That’s one of things I’ve been fretting about. How do I have to dress? I know I’m going be nervous as hell and as I wrote earlier, I’m not sure I can handle going up there without it. When asked his advice on dress, Jason Greene of One Good Dad wrote me that I shouldn’t feel scared people will judge me for wearing it because this is a community that doesn’t scrutinize. But then I also think about what it might symbolically mean for Sienna should I not wear the hat, should I display that extra courage. Is it enough that Daddy’s confronting his overwhelming anxieties by not just going to this conference, but speaking at it? She’ll be 22 months at the time. She could care less. And yet I feel like I shouldn’t wear it because I’d be setting an example. I want my daughter to look at me as a strong person and father. I never want her to feel the need to carry around a security blanket, particularly when she’s nearing 40.

Even if I don’t wear it at the podium, I’m sure I’ll be wearing it most of the time. If anything it’ll be an easy way for you guys to recognize me. Just look for the terrified guy in the old, threadbare Yankee cap.

Chosen – Dad 2.0 Summit

Posted on January 6, 2014 by Lorne Jaffe

Last week I was contacted by Doug French, founder of the Dad 2.0 Summit , who let me know that I had been chosen as a Blogger Spotlight Reader for this year’s conference in New Orleans. My initial reactions were shock and humility. “Me? Why me? How? How is this possible?” I actually asked Doug that as we spoke on the phone and he said that he enjoyed my blog and thought I had an important voice. I was told my ticket to the conference would be paid for and that to help save money, Doug would help me find someone with whom I could share a hotel room. Was I willing to go? As we spoke and I stammered my responses, nervousness flooded my veins and my chest felt as if it had been dipped in liquid nitrogen, like a little poke in the ribs would shatter me to pieces. I told Doug I’d have to look into flights and see about that hotel roommate and ask if I could get Sienna coverage and most importantly, see if could overcome my anxiety. Doug said that was fine and to let him know as soon as I could.

The first thing I did – and this is highly significant – was contact Danny Giardino, a friend I’d met through the NYC Dads Group, who had offered to split a room with me when I was debating going to conference a few months ago. I asked if the room was still available. It was and since the first 2 nights were comped, the total cost for my stay would be negligible. Why is this so significant? Because I actually did something instead of crawling into bed and shaking. I took initiative in solving a rooming situation.

Next I contacted my mom about Sienna coverage. She told me she was proud of me and said she and my dad would absolutely be able to watch Sienna on Thursday and Friday. Again significant because I problem-solved.

Then, despite my sense of dread at how things were falling into place, I searched for flights and found one that was doable money-wise. Non-stop both ways on JetBlue.

I then called Elaine and stammered my way through letting her know that I’d been chosen, that the founder of the Dad 2.0 Summit (described on its homepage as “an open conversation about the commercial power of dads online, and an opportunity to learn the tools and tactics used by influential bloggers to create high-quality content, build personal brands, and develop business ideas”), had read my blog and wanted me to read from it in front of a large audience of fellow Dad Bloggers and marketers and real go-getters in the At-Home Dad community, people so unlike myself, people who don’t cost their child a few hours in the park because they’re too anxious to go outside. Elaine, like my mom, was proud of me, but knowing my anxiety level must be through the roof, she said we’d talk about it when we got home.

As I said earlier, I had debated going to the conference a few months ago, but I felt that I’d be overwhelmed by the marketing and business aspects as well a fear of feeling completely inadequate in the face of so many seasoned bloggers, people whose work is so much better than my own. I’d gone back and forth and back and forth and finally decided it would be too much for me…maybe next year when I’d have done more writing and had a lot more therapy. Now I was being invited by the founder himself and the dominoes were falling leading me to a date in New Orleans in late January.

I called my best friends who told me I absolutely have to go, that is an opportunity of a lifetime and I’d regret it forever if I didn’t answer that knock. I texted my therapist who said the same.

A few hours later after Elaine had come home and we talked a bit more I booked the damn flight before I could change my mind. I took a massive leap, something I almost never do. I let Doug know that I accepted the honor and would indeed be there and he wrote back: “Great news! Thanks again for doing this. You’ll be great. I know it.” I also peppered him with anxiety-related questions: What do I wear? Do I have to look professional? I normally wear jeans and a baseball cap (Aside – I had planned to write about the meaning behind my cap today, but this popped up instead). What happens if I become overwhelmed? Can I leave for a bit? Take a walk? Do I wait for an official announcement? (The announcement was posted today.) I apologized for the frenzied questions and said I hate my brain to which Doug responded, “Don’t hate your brain too much. It’s the reason you write as well as you do.” I didn’t know what to say to that.

My sister- and brother-in-law live in Baton Rouge and want to be there for moral support, but I don’t know if they’d need to pay to see me read. Even if they can’t make it to the conference itself, they want to take the trip to drive me from and to the airport to which I said they’re nuts and was told that they’re a nutty family.

I can tell you that I’m scared out of my mind. I’m terrified of the marketing aspects. I’m frightened I’ll feel eclipsed by the other bloggers there. I’m nervous I’ll feel very alone even though Doug and others have told me that people look out for each other at the Summit, that it’s a community of friendly faces. I’m even afraid I’ll unwittingly walk by Madame Marie Delphine LaLaurie’s mansion (she being the infamous, sadistic slave torturer currently being portrayed by Kathy Bates on American Horror Story: Coven) and I’ll see one of those weird orbs people claim appear when they take photo of the place (ok, I’ll confess, I actually do want to visit the mansion – anyone up for a New Orleans nighttime ghost tour?). I’m anxious people will feel I wasn’t deserving of this honor, that I’m not good enough, that I’ll discover I’m not cut out to be a Dad Blogger. I’m scared I won’t have Elaine with me.

But…I did take those steps to see if I could go and I did it on all my own. That means something. That means a lot. I’m proud of myself for that. And I’m proud I took a leap I don’t think I could have taken even a few months ago. Plus I’ve never been to New Orleans. If there’s time, I’d like to see a few things. I’m also looking forward to meeting so many people who have been supportive of my writing since I joined the Dad Bloggers group. Already some of these fellow bloggers such as Carter Gaddis, Kevin McKeever, John Kinnear have posted personal congrats to me on FB as have people I already know including Lance Somerfield, Jason Greene and Sat Sharma.

I’m nervous as hell, but I’m not letting my anxiety hold me back. Not this time. It’s probably not going to leave me, but come January 30th, we’ll be together at the Dad 2.0 Summit in New Orleans.

Tumbling From the Moon and Getting Back Up

Posted on November 14, 2013 by Lorne Jaffe

It took less than one day. Less than one day for my depression/anxiety to once again rear its ugly head. Less than one day after I’d blogged about the wonderful jolt I’d felt when Sienna pointed and yelled out, “MOON!!!” I’d spoken with my therapist about the experience and the blog, how it was probably the first time I’d really felt life through my daughter’s eyes, and about how I, for once, actually thought I’d written something well. I’d talked about how I thought it was time for me to really do something with this blog, gain a bigger audience. I mentioned the Dad 2.0 Summit, a large gathering of dad bloggers and dads and sponsors. I thought maybe I should go. She agreed.

That night I couldn’t sleep. I left the bedroom and began researching going to New Orleans for the summit. Between the ticket, flight, hotel, etc., it was going to cost a fortune. Should I still do it? I watched a video taken from last year’s gathering and saw hundreds of confident people, a few of which I know, and I began to panic. The burst of wonder I’d written about morphed into icy fear. My mind swirled. I wasn’t good enough for this. These bloggers are so much better, so much more competent. They’re invited to interview celebrities, review films and test out new products. My blog’s puny by comparison. I barely get any comments. I had to do something. My hands shook as I posted my blog in a Dad Bloggers group on Facebook, terrified I wouldn’t be accepted.

I had to change tactics. Think of something else. I know. Coupons. We need to save money. I used to be a coupon fiend, so good that one of my former coworkers told me I should make a business out of it. That’s when I stopped cold. Once the possibility of making it a business came into play, I could no longer do it. Now I had to get back into it. I researched coupon sites while and was overwhelmed. Then I started thinking about the holidays and finding gifts for people. My chest hurt. My brain hurt. Nasty thoughts bombarded me. I suck as a blogger. I’m weak. Can’t do the coupon thing anymore. I’m a failure. At around a quarter to two in the morning, I posted on Facebook about the Dads Summit and feeling panicky. Then I got the hell away from the computer, went back to the bedroom, and tossed and turned for hours before falling into a fitful sleep.

Elaine was off the next day. The plumber was due to come fix our shower. I woke up feeling horrible. Nervous. Scared. Two hours later it was a full-on panic attack complete with chest pains, dizziness, stuttering, crying. Elaine ordered me to the bedroom, but I fought her; I couldn’t leave her alone to take care of Sienna while the plumber was there. I looked at the responses to my FB post from the previous night. Positive responses that I twisted into negative thoughts. I’d lost all control of my mind. I was falling apart in front of Sienna. I finally submitted to my Elaine’s order and went to the bedroom. I apologized, but she refused it saying we’re a team, that it was my turn to lose it (she’d lost it a few days before because of job-related things). I chastised myself for failing her, for being a failure in general. Eventually I fell asleep. I slept for almost six hours.

I still could barely function after awakening. I sat on the couch like a stone wanting only to curl up under a blanket. Elaine took care of everything, feeding Sienna, playing with her, cleaning up her messes. She comforted me, told me she loved me, that we’re in this together, that in no way had I failed her. The words didn’t stick. I’m not sure how long it was before bedtime when I took a melatonin and slept peacefully.

I awoke the next morning feeling better. Elaine was working so I was once more alone with Sienna, though the plumber had to return to fix a few things. I realized I wasn’t ready to go to the Dads Summit. Not this year. I reread the comments on my FB post and one really stood out:

“1- You haven’t been blogging for long. Continue finding your voice for now and set a date to take off. 2- Set goals. Last year I sat down and came up with a business plan for my blog. The plan was for my eyes only, but I had a plan in place. The plan took new shapes along the way, but I felt good that I had a plan. 3 – Being a dad blogger is great, but taking a break now and then is fine. 4- You’ve got good stuff, but sometimes it takes a while for others to catch on to it.”

This both encouraged and scared me. I’m terrible at planning. I can barely make a grocery list, but the person was right in that I hadn’t been blogging long. I’ll probably need to talk to my friend who posted the comment about planning and I’ll most likely need Elaine’s help, but it’s something that needs to be done. Baby steps. My therapist always says I need to take baby steps because I usually jump straight to the end and judge myself harshly that I’m not there yet and so many others are.

So my first step is to write this blog and get all of this out there to show people how quickly depression/anxiety can attack. Having depression and/or anxiety disorders is not fun. It’s not a joke. They’re insidious diseases that you have to battle at all times. It’s like walking a tightrope without a net. There’s lots of wobbling and if you fall off there’s nothing to catch you. Those of us with depression/anxiety need to surround ourselves with people who love and understand us at all times (even if we can’t figure out why they do). I’m lucky that I have Elaine and my parents; a few friends to turn to; my sister; my therapist. As difficult as it is, I need to stop comparing myself to others and I need to take baby steps even if I need guidance in doing so.

Baby steps all the way to the moon.