Turning the Frightening 4-0

Posted on February 9, 2014 by Lorne Jaffe

Despite feeling like I’m about 7 years old and still wanting to believe someone can protect me from whatever cruelties exist in the world, I’m turning 40 tomorrow. I planned to blog about how mortified I am about this; how I distinctly remember my father turning 40 and thinking, “Wow, he’s old!”; how deeply depressed I get even when my birthday doesn’t begin with a 4 and end with an 0; how I especially fear February 10, 2014 so much because Elaine won’t arrive home until 9 pm leaving me trying to fight the usual birthday darkness and hold myself together in front of Sienna all day long. But instead, while tossing and turning in bed last night, I decided to go the positive route and list 30 things (because 40 is supposedly the new 30) I never thought I’d experience had you asked me when I graduated college in 1996. So here goes:

1) I’m still alive – I’ve had so many suicidal thoughts that despite never acting on them I suspected one day I might

2) I lost my virginity

3) I didn’t just get married, but I wed the most beautiful, caring (I could go on and on without running out of favorable adjectives) person on the planet

Elaine on our wedding day

4) I survived dozens of panic attacks and 2 nervous breakdowns the latter of which (in 2010) I’m still recovering from

5) On what was one of the most meaningful, near-paralyzing days of my life post-breakdown, I somehow stopped a full-on panic attack right before my wife’s c-section because she was shaking from the fears of being sliced open and becoming a mother which led me to…

6) Becoming a father to a fascinating and gorgeous little girl (who was delivered by Santa Claus) and realizing the majesty of parent

7) I found a therapist I eventually came to believe cares about me

8) I reconciled with and developed new relationships with both my father and sister

9) I have the same best friends I’ve had since the ages of 8 (when I met one) and 12 (when I met the other)

My best friends, Sienna and I this in November 2013

10) I had surgery to correct gynecomastia (male breast enlargement) which I suffered from between the ages of 11 and 29 and published a piece about it; I also had laser to remove my back hair leading me to…

11) Take off my shirt in public for the first time since I was 10

12) I received a masters in Media Ecology from NYU

13) A professional actor performed a monologue I wrote

14) Despite extreme anxiety and several public meltdowns, I joined the NYC Dads Group where Lance Somerfield, Matt Schnieder, Jason Greene, Kevin McKeever, Larry Interrante, Danny Giardino and Christoper Persley among others would all cheer me on

15) I started blogging about raising my daughter while battling depression and anxiety

16) I zip-lined through the jungles of Costa Rica

17) I not only saw the Yankees win a World Series, but I witnessed one of the greatest dynasties of all time (1996-2001) and attended a WS game

18) The 2008 MLB All-Star Game Program contained an article featuring me and my disillusionment with how the Yankees have forgotten how to build a team

19) My best friend since I was 8 and I had made a pact when we were 12 or so that when our favorite ballplayers (me: Dave Winfield; he: Ozzie Smith) were inducted into the Hall of Fame, we’d head up to Cooperstown for the ceremonies. They were elected in consecutive years and our childhood promise came to fruition

20) I paraglided in Alaska

Yep, that’s me

21) I discovered a bar in Scotland somehow named after me (though they refused to give me anything on the house even when I showed my passport)

22) During my Contiki trip through Scotland, England and Wales, I actually had 3 girls interested in me (I’d never had ANY girls interested in me before), wound up in a short-lived long-distance relationship with an exquisite woman from California and made numerous Aussie friends which led to…

23) Me traveling to the place I most wanted to visit in the world where I spent New Year’s Eve watching fireworks shoot out of the Harbor Bridge

My friend Derek and I in front of the famed Sydney Opera House

24) Two friends and I put on an impromptu puppet show on the Charles Bridge in Prague, Czech Republic and even received some money from tourists

25) I traveled all over Europe, Central America, the Caribbean and North America

26) The former head of the Chinese Mafia (now reformed and a friend of my father’s who worked on his cases) helped me move from Queens to Jersey City

27) Despite my trepidation, I joined a movie club and met some wonderful friends

28) Doug French, co-founder of Dad 2.0, invited me to read one of my blogs (titled “Do I Really Like What I Like“) at the 2014 summit in New Orleans at which I received not just a shocking standing ovation, but so many accolades that I’m still trying to process it

Speaking at Dad 2.0 in New Orleans

29) In the words of fellow dad blogger, Carter Gattis, I think I’ve found my tribe

30) I wrote this blog

Growth

Posted on December 30, 2013 by Lorne Jaffe

I’ve always hated New Year’s Eve. I become way too focused on another year gone, another year closer to death, another year in which I still have not met my warped definition of success. I find it especially hard to concentrate on what I have and instead watch all these people celebrating surviving to see an arbitrary turn on the clock. For years I’ve become more sullen and depressed the closer we get to Dick Clark’s favorite holiday (just as I do my birthday since its “meaning” is in a similar vein). I don’t know how I’m going to do tomorrow. It’s going to be quiet here in our apartment – just Elaine, Sienna and myself. I’ll be with the most important people in my life and I hope I can engross myself in that. Regardless, rather than spend this post being all pessimistic, I want to write about something that happened yesterday, something that made me realize that I have indeed improved mentally since my last nervous breakdown in January 2010. Yesterday I leased a new car.

I know that doesn’t sound like much, but the last time my lease was up I went through one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life. It was early 2011 and we were still living in New Jersey. Knowing it was a little over 3 months before my lease matured, I drove out to my usual Honda dealership (I was on second Civic), walked through the door and stood frozen looking at the bustling showroom and all the salespeople I figured would take advantage of me because I had so little knowledge about real world things like leasing a car and because I didn’t know how to play the game. Anxiety squeezed my heart with an icy grip. Sweat poured down my face. I walked up to the receptionist desk and stammered something unintelligible. Then, shaking, I burst into tears and ran out the door.

In the end my parents wound up having to drive out from Queens to help me thrash out the new lease. I barely spoke during the process. When I did I stuttered. My hands and legs shook. I didn’t wail or anything, but tears formed in my eyes and sometimes silently slid down my cheeks. I sat listening as my parents tried to get me the best deal, my mind black with thoughts and feelings of frailty and failure. I was 37 years old. A 37-year-old man (I still have difficulty considering myself a “man” as I so often feel like a child) who couldn’t take the pressure of signing a new car lease by himself and instead had to rely on his parents.

Flash forward 2 years and 6 months. I’m at a Honda dealership in Queens since we no longer live in Jersey. My father’s with me. This time I do most of the talking and ask most of the questions. The salesperson’s extremely affable and low key which looking back I think helped, but the fact is I I’m able to joke with him about how ludicrous it is that the color “grey” becomes “Urban Titanium.” My father plays the game a bit and gets him down a few bucks a month (“I like round numbers,” my dad says). But really, it’s my deal and it’s hell of a lot better than my last lease. I put less money down. They buy out my remaining payments and any existing car damage. And I’m paying $38 less a month while getting new features like bluetooth, a rear camera, automatic headlight shutoff and of course that cool Urban Titanium exterior. My hands never shake. My eyes remain clear. I smile and laugh. I never stutter…not even once. I feel no anxiety. Zero. I need to acknowledge that and even say so to my father while still at the dealership.

My dad keeps my mom updated the entire time and as we drive home he tells me how proud of me the 2 of them are. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to hearing those words, a phrase I’d craved hearing my whole life. My initial reaction is always to refute compliments because I feel somehow undeserving. But as I think about it, I really have come a long way. Two years and 6 months ago I entered a similar situation and was a wreck completely reliant on my parents to get me through it. This time I was in control of both myself and the negotiation. My dad noted I he felt I didn’t even need him there as all he did was save me about $24 bucks a year. The more I think about it, the more I realize he’s right and the more I realize I’ve grown.

I don’t know what feelings New Year’s Eve will bring, but I do know today I’ll go pick up my new car. I know my mind will try to contradict reality, but I’ll battle because I’ve evolved. I have fact on my side. Zero anxiety while leasing a car? That is clear personal growth.

I Learned It From Watching You!

Posted on December 9, 2013 by Lorne Jaffe

Last week, when my mom was babysitting while I was at session, our cat, Gleeb, had a bit of a hairball. Now, I know this sounds mundane, but it was actually quite an event. According to my mom Sienna was in her room on the changing table when she heard these wheezing noises coming from the living room.

“What’s that?! What’s that?!” she asked excitedly with a hint of concern to which my mom proceeded to explain what was happening.

“Geeb!! Geeb!!” Sienna yelled, “E okay?? E okay??”

“He’s ok,” my mom said, letting Sienna down from the table. Apparently Sienna then ran out of her room and straight to Gleeb who had by then recovered (thankfully he didn’t spit anything up!). She then hugged and kissed and pet him all the while shouting, “Geeb!! Geeb!! E okay?? E okay??” to which my mom kept reassuring her that indeed he was.

This happened about 10 minutes before I came home and when I walked through the door I was greeted by my daughter pointing at Gleeb and repeating her refrain, “Geeb!! Geeb!! E okay?? E okay??” Then she’d hug and kiss and pet him until he walked away to which she’d yell, “E goes!” and then run after him to start it all over again.

Sounds like nothing, right? But there are a few significant things about it. This was the first time Sienna called Gleeb by name (she’d been saying “Ginky” or “Dinky” when referring to our other cat, Minky, for months). That one I was smart enough to figure out myself. It was also weird that it would happen shortly after I’d blogged about dealing with the loss of a pet now that I’m parent. The other thing I learned when I relayed the story to Elaine later that evening and she teared up.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It’s bittersweet,” she said, dabbing away tears. “I missed it, but it also shows she’s watching and learning from us.”

Elaine was right. Sienna watches us treat not just Gleeb and Minky, but each other with love and care. Elaine and I are especially affectionate if one or the other of us is in turmoil. If I’m the verge of an anxiety attack, Elaine hugs me immediately. I do the same for her if she’s struggling. We kiss each other in front of Sienna. We hold hands. Our daughter’s absorbing this and it clearly came out when she worried over Gleeb.

Both Elaine and I grew up in families that lacked physical affection. In my family, for instance, the men never hugged. I remember one time when we were talking about this during a family gathering and my uncle went to hug my late grandfather. My grandfather went rigid, blushed and chuckled nervously. All of us were laughing at how ridiculous my grandfather looked, but thinking back, it’s sad.

My father too has trouble showing affection. As I’ve written before, it came out in therapy that he stopped hugging me when I was around 4, which is most likely when his father stopped hugging him. My uncle, having married my dad’s sister, has an easier time with it, but growing up I’d always shake his hand because that’s what I thought males were supposed to do. Inside, though starving for physical affection, I became uncomfortable hugging anyone in my family, male or female, especially my father. When I yelled that my dad owed me 30+ years of hugs during a family therapy session after my nervous breakdown, I was dead serious, and to his credit, he’s been so much better at it (though we’re also both still a little awkward when doing it). I’m proud of him.

I also don’t remember my parents being physically affectionate towards each other. Elaine has the same memories of her parents. In fact, Elaine didn’t know what to do when I’d have emotional trouble when we first started dating. I had to teach her that I needed to be hugged and though it took awhile, now it’s instinctual. Thus we decided long ago that we’d never stop hugging each other and that when it came to Sienna, we’d emulate the Keatons from “Family Ties”: we would be those annoying parents whose teenage children would come into a room, find their parental units holding hands and kissing, roll their eyes and go, “Ugh! They’re at it again!”

Nearly 21-months after Sienna’s birth, we’re still going strong in how we treat each other. With love. With caring. With respect. With hugs and kisses. And as I said before that affection extends to Gleeb and Minky and of course, Sienna, who receives so many hugs and kisses it’s impossible to count and who gives them right back to Elaine and I.

“Geeb!! Geeb!! E okay?? E okay??” *Kiss* *Hug*

Sha-la-la-la

Sienna watching carefully over Gleeb

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.