It's The Little Things

It's the little things in life that make me happy when I write. A cup of hot, black coffee. A tall glass of iced-cold water and a clean pair of underwear.  

I'd be lost without those three essentials. Lately there's been an addition to my writing ritual. It's an exercise I learned in a book called The Tools, written by Phil Stutz and Barry Michels.

In the past I’ve had issues with anxiety attacks. To the point where I'd rush myself to to the emergency room thinking I was having a heart attack. That's how severe they used to get. It made my wife crazy. She knew It was only me being bottled up with one fear or another. Eventually I learned to recognize the symptoms. I was then able to calm myself down and not have a genuine stroke. But the fears were always there. Mostly it was the fear of me just being me.

I come from a family of nine brothers and two sisters. I was number nine in the equation, with two younger brothers. I was always hearing things like, “He's such a nice, quiet little boy.” Or "Why can't you be more like Richie?”

As I got older it was more like, "For Christ sakes! Does he talk at all?” or “What's the hell’s the matter with him?”

I went from cute little Richie to an awkward teenager holed up in his room with his record albums and posters. That was my Neil Young After the Goldrush period. 1970. I was sixteen. No one spoke to me at the time like Neil did. Neil was ornery. That's the impression I got while looking at the album cover. When Neil had something to say, he was going to say it whether you liked it or not. And he might just say it to piss you off. Me? I was too much of a people pleaser. I didn't want to offend anyone. 

Then the years rush by and you find yourself in your thirties still trying to please people while your insides are screaming for you to ’Tell those people to go fuck themselves!’ But I didn't, and so, in my mid-thirties, the chest pains started. I'd run off to the emergency room with visions of defibrillators dancing in my head. I so convinced my doctor that I was having a heart attack that he had me admitted to the hospital. I spent two days in the ICU ward in 1990. Diagnosis? Physically fit. I was a head case.

Aside from learning the signals and being able to calm myself down, the real problem dwelled within my head. I was afraid to leave the comfort zone. I’ve gotten to hate that phrase. It sounds so pleasant. Why would any want to leave something that sounds so nice. Almost like a vacation spot. Something you pay money to have happen to you. Not something you’d want to step away from. I now refer to the comfort zone as the Quicksand to Hell. Or QTH syndrome. Because when you're in it, you're not getting anywhere fast.

I had no intention of going into detail about any of this. I was simply going to tell you about an exercise that got me past the pain of whatever it is I was afraid of. I only know that it has helped. The Book is called The Tools: 5 Tools to Help You Find Courage, Creativity, and Willpower--and Inspire You to Live Life in Forward Motion.

All these self-help books seem to have the same generic titles that make you not want to pick one up. Titles like: How to Find Your Inner Child. How to Find your Inner Hair. How to Find Your Inner Bondage Master.  They go on and on. But I took a look at this one because I was desperate to escape out of my own head. That was in May of 2012. The next few months would turn out to be the most productive and creative times I have ever had. 

It also accounts for these videos I’ve been doing on the ABCtales site.  A few years ago my son wanted to videotape me singing a song. It was a tune I played around the house. But as soon as he turned the camera on I froze. He wasn’t even in the room. It was just me. But there may as well have been been a million eyes staring me down. Pointing and laughing. My fingers felt like sticks of marshmallow, my voice cracked and I couldn’t remember any of the lyrics. I felt like I was breaking out in hives. It was an awful experience for me. I always thought of myself as a pretty cool character, but I choked at the push of a button.

My son still has the video of my failed attempts at performing in front of a camera, which are pretty funny. I was Yosemite Sam tight, when I wanted to be Bugs Bunny loose. 

The one exercise in the book that I found helpful is called The Reversal of Desire. It’s about diving in, even though ever fiber of your being tells you there are crocodiles and used condoms floating around down there. Stay up here with the Adirondack chairs and the strawberry daiquiris.

The exercise as described in the book is called:

The Reversal of Desire

See the pain appear in front of you as a cloud. Scream silently at the cloud, “BRING IT ON!” Feel an intense desire for the pain to move you into the cloud
Scream silently, “I LOVE PAIN!” as you keep moving forward. Go so deeply into the pain you’re at one with it. 

You will feel the cloud spit you out and close behind you. Say inwardly with conviction, “PAIN SETS ME FREE!” As you leave the cloud, feel yourself propelled forward into a realm of pure light.

Don’t you hate how that exercise makes you not want to do it?  And believe me it took me a long time to get over how lame I felt muttering those phrases. But I stuck with it. I find that it helps if you take a deep breath when entering the cloud saying, “I love pain!’ and exhaling as you leave, saying ‘Pain sets me free!'

I wasn’t able to talk about these things a couple of years back, but I’m getting better at it. 

And, please, I’m not trying to sell a book here. These people made a gazillion dollars off those exercises. I just wanted to share a part of me I never talk about. There are other parts, too. And, no, none of them have anything to do with being a Bondage Master. Though I'm sure I’d make a splendid one if I put my mind - and whip - into it.