Any Given Sunday Guilt Can Be Your Enemy

Posted on November 19, 2013 by Lorne Jaffe

First I want to thank everyone for all of the comments from my last blog. I’ve been completely overwhelmed by your kindness, so much so that I’ve been unable to fully address your support. I’ve also been paralyzed, my brain taunting: “How am I gonna top what I last wrote??” I’ve been battling that and simultaneously trying to absorb all the wonderful advice and encouragement. I promise to get back to each of you. For now, I have to write about yesterday even though it doesn’t involve Sienna.

For a few years now, my two oldest, closest friends (one friend, whom I met in 2nd grade, lives in Maryland, the other, whom I met in 6th grade, lives in Florida) and I have annually reunited to go to a Giants game; for perspective purposes, we’re all turning 40 next year. The fourth spot in our reunion quartet has changed over the years for one reason or another. This year I decided to invite another old friend who coincidentally also lives in Maryland. We met in 3rd grade, I think, but we fell out of touch for some years post-college. Thanks in part to Facebook it’s like those lost years never happened.

To give you a little background, this friend of mine had an extremely rough childhood. I witnessed harsh verbal and emotional abuse from his parents that eventually led to psychological damage manifesting itself physically as stress-related seizures in JHS and the sudden development of an allergy array that boggled the mind. His allergies have since abated, but the seizures have followed him into adulthood, through two bad marriages, high pressure jobs, etc. Thankfully he’s happier now than he’s ever been. I was very protective of my friend when we were kids (I still am), always telling my parents about what he went through, but they felt I exaggerated because knowing his parents, they couldn’t believe some of the things I described most of which they couldn’t have done anything about, but a couple of which directly involved me. I held this grudge against my parents until it was finally resolved in family therapy a few years ago, but it helped establish in me a deep-rooted need to be understood and believed that remains to this day. It’s partly the reason why I write this blog – to be understood.

Anyway, we chose the game in July, but as the day neared, my friend discovered he couldn’t get away Saturday and needed to be at work early Monday morning so he decided to drive up Sunday morning and then drive back right after the game (I thought this was audacious, even nuts, but I deferred because he so wanted to go).

When my friend from Florida arrived on Friday, we happened to meet up with another one of our good friends from elementary school. I mentioned our annual tradition and how our fourth for this year was facing a crazy schedule. I asked if should my friend have to cancel, would he be interested in going to which I got a hearty yes. I thought it was logical to secure a backup just in case, but I never imagined what would unfurl.

Four and a half hours before the game I got a text from my friend saying that he’d had a seizure while driving and totaled his car. He was unhurt, somewhere in New Jersey, and still wanted to go to the game. His closest friends, (two very sweet women whom I’ve met on several occasions) were driving from Maryland and he wanted them to take him to the stadium. Shaken and stunned, I called him and said he was acting crazy, that his health was a hell of a lot more important than a football game, and that he needed to go to a hospital and head home. He was adamant about it, though. He wanted to see us. He’d make the game. He hung up because he needed to talk with an officer.

The women were already on their way. I spoke to one of them and begged her to talk my friend into going home. She said he’d had a rough work week but had been looking forward to the game for a long time, building it up. Because she loves him, as do I, she was naturally scared about his health. We were both on the verge of tears. I had a feeling guilt was involved. He didn’t want to let us down. He didn’t want to see the ticket go to waste. I told her I could get a replacement, that he shouldn’t worry about the ticket. She agreed guilt could very well be raising its insidious head. She’d call him.

As I waited, my facial tic started going (it only appears now when I’m severely anxious). I’d been hit by my own guilt wave: I somehow caused this by enlisting a potential replacement. My friend would hate me if I refused his going to the game. Do I tell my other friend and have him come to the stadium with us just in case? If so, would HE hate me if he wound up stuck in a bar instead of at the game?

Guilt and clinical depression go hand-in-hand. Over the last few years I’ve allowed absurd guilt to slash my rational mind to ribbons. My therapist always tells me guilt is a dangerous emotion when it comes to living with depression. It prevents recovery. It prevents living.

Elaine and my other friends were trying to calm me down, telling me I was being irrational. I tried to listen, but my brain wouldn’t compute. This was somehow my fault via some ridiculous cosmic event.

My friend called back. He’d decided he was too shaken to go and was just going to go home. The truth was he did feel guilty about the ticket and about not seeing us. Through tears I told him I loved him. I said we’d make a plan to visit him, maybe even watch an old Giants game. His health superseded everything. My other friends agreed. We all took turns talking to him, making sure he was ok, telling him not going to the game was the smart move. When he hung up, my emotions collapsed and I started crying in front of Elaine, my friends, and worst of all, Sienna. Elaine took me into another room to hug and soothe me, constantly telling me it wasn’t my fault.

Eventually I settled down and the four of us headed out. We had a good time, but I couldn’t shake the guilt. Several times my friends had to tell me I was being ludicrous. I kept pictured my friend in Maryland curled up, beating himself up because he’d disappointed us and himself. At one point I had to take a walk. It took until the second half to untether myself, to mostly (still not completely) stop the guilt from eating away at this reunion of my closest friends. Although I couldn’t really get into the game, I did manage to joke around and talk and remember how lucky I was to have these people in my life. I also got a text that my friend had made it home safe and sound.

Guilt almost made my friend make a terrible decision that put his health in jeopardy. Meanwhile, my own crazy guilt nearly sucked any enjoyment from seeing my closest friends. Thankfully we both were able to eventually overpower our own irrationality. I fully plan to teach Sienna about the dangers of guilt when she’s older. Further, I will do my best to never use guilt as a weapon (even in a joking manner). I’ve seen more than enough of it in my lifetime. I’ll also make sure she knows I trust and believe her lest she somehow (and I’m sure she will at some point) blow it, but of course, she’ll be able to earn it back. If she tells me about something going on with one of her friends, I’ll believe her and explain whatever options might be available, that I personally don’t have the right to take charge, but she should be there for her friend and encourage her/him to reach out to the proper authority figures be it guidance counselors, social workers, teachers, even police; only if there’s legitimate proof can I act myself.

Now I have two things to look forward to: a soon-to-planned reunion in Maryland and next year’s annual Giants game.

At the Giants/Packers game on 11/17/13 posing with former Giant great, Stephen Baker “The Touchdown Maker”

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.

Do I Really Like What I Like?

Posted on November 4, 2013 by Lorne Jaffe

I’ve been struck by the leaves changing over the past few days as if I’m seeing them with new eyes. I don’t think I ever realized how much I love this season, just how beautiful is this natural wonder we call “autumn.” I know that sounds kind of ridiculous, but it’s true. One of the many horrid aspects about depression is that it dulls the senses and forces you to question not just your likes and loves, but your entire existence.

Autumn colors in Little Neck, Queens

When I had my first nervous breakdown back in 1996, I became very existential about life. I broke down religion, societal rules and mores, and the mind to the point where the floor had been swiped from beneath me and I fell like I was flailing through space. I came to the conclusion that everything was arbitrary, that had I been born in Africa or the Middle East or in a different time period,everything I believed would be different, and that everything I’d ever known was somehow affected by those who came before me. I did my best to convince everyone I knew about this and found it astonishing when some people refused to accept my newfound discoveries about life. Eventually I recovered, though not fully. My existential beliefs are still with me (though not to the point where I cannot function), and after my second breakdown in 2010, I began to attack myself more than ever. One of main questions was: Who am I? And coupled with that was: Do I really like what I like?

I’m not talking about people. Obviously I love Elaine and Sienna, my parents, my sister, my friends. What I mean by this is if someone led me into liking something, say baseball, can I really claim it as my own? Further, I’ve become the person who needs to check reviews before I can decide if I like something. If it’s against the grain, I’m scared to say I liked it. If Rottentomatoes.com gave a film 96% positive and I didn’t like it, I’m afraid to voice my opinion. It’s a horrible thing when you no longer trust your own opinion. I love reading, but sometimes I feel like I’m doing it just so I can say I’ve read x number of books. Since depression has deeply affected my memory (another aspect of the disease…I have so much trouble remembering film, books, etc., now), it makes me doubt myself that much more.

But over the last couple of weeks, a couple of my true likes have come to the surface. I went fishing with one of my best friends in Florida a couple of weeks ago and I had an amazing time. I realized just how much I love fishing even know I’d never eat what I catch because I find all seafood disgusting. During therapy the following week, I talked about how much fun I had and my therapist asked where that love of fishing came from. I had no answer like I do with baseball, film, television, reading, G.I. Joe, and about a zillion things which I attribute to one of my other best friends. I’ve always been fascinated by the underwater world, by the creatures that dwell beneath the surface. I wanted to be a marine biologist when I was a kid. Even the theme of Bar Mitzvah was “underwater” with styrofoam sculptures of an octopus (my favorite animal) and a manta ray standing on each side of the kids’ table. To this day I love aquariums and fishing and so I claim those likes.

Fishing in Tampa. I can’t deny the pure joy on my face

I also claim Greek mythology. I’ve been enthralled by Greek myths ever since I was first introduced to them in elementary school going so far as to write really terrible plays in second grade with names such as, “Dionysus Goes Bad.” I was like a kid in a candy store when I visited Greece, jabbering and taking pictures of a valley where Oedipus supposedly met and killed his father while my sister said, “It’s just grass!”

I also claim my likes of animals and natural beauty: wombats, The Grand Canyon, vampire bats, autumnal leaves. I like media and its cultural impact. I like satire. I like “Breaking Bad” and “Arrested Development” and The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien. I truly like, nay, love these things.

But here’s the biggest thing. I’m claiming all my likes and loves including those I believe didn’t come organically to me. Baseball is a part of me as is film, ’80s music, G.I. Joe. I don’t care that the first G.I. Joe film got panned. I loved it! It made me feel like a kid again!.

Depression, as I’ve often said, is a war. You’re constantly attacked by irrational thoughts and self-doubt. I can’t say that I’m going to be able to hold this feeling each and every day, but for now, I’m staking my claim and realizing it shouldn’t matter if my friend got me into something.Nothing changes the fact that the leaves of autumn are beautiful.

The war will rage on, but at least now I have this blog to look at when the irrational thoughts try to take me down.