Many Updates

A lot has been going on, not all of it I can talk about. So I will report on what I can.

I had the second carpal tunnel surgery, this time on my right hand. However this time I also had to have cubital release surgery, which is to release the tension of the ulnar nerve by the elbow which affects the fingers. So this meant I had to have surgery on my right wrist and right elbow. The first few days after surgery were excruciating, but thankfully they gave me some oxy. I’ve also never had a nerve block put on me before which is what they did for my elbow. They had to inject it with a cardiac needle into my shoulder using ultrasound to get the right nerve. Felt weird getting it and my arm was in a sling because my arm was completely immobile and had no sensation in it, meaning I could burn or injure it and not feel it. There was a moment later in the day where I was able to make a fist in front of my face but felt it almost a foot away from my hand; kinda freaked me out. They took the stitches out of the hand, while the elbow was glued shut. The wrist feels okay but the elbow is itchy and my fingers still ache. I have my orthopedic follow up in August. I’m not in dreadful pain, but still sore and annoyed. Basically a slow recovery.

Sophia finally had her European high school trip that kept getting put off due to the pandemic. It was originally supposed to be a trip to London and Paris in 2020; it eventually became Rome, Italy in 2023. Of course she got there in the middle of a heat wave, but missed all the Canadian wildfire smoke so it was a decent trip. Actually Boston got spared the worst of the wildfire smoke but I think we got some of it this weekend (a friend said he could taste the air. Ewwww!). I am a little jealous of her because I don’t even have a European stamp on my passport.

The WGA strike has some good news within the bad news, and abstract news (depending how you look at it). While you cannot sell a screenplay unless you never want to be in the WGA ever (and, for the record, I DO!), it is however possible to find representation for your writing. Since most reps aren’t selling writer’s scripts, they are filling their rosters with writers. I have been trying to get one for some time now but with little luck, but they say now is the time to strike. Part of the problem is trying to carve out time in my schedule to search, research, and query managers. My schedule has changed and it is making it harder to do so—although that is up from impossible earlier in the spring. I did have the confirmation of something I’ve know and feared for a while now: I write for a cinematic era that might now ever come back. My writing doesn’t fit neatly into genres or major tentpole markets, falling within the realm of independent cinema vis-a-vie the 1970s or 1990s audiences. No major studios or streaming services are making those films anymore, and those that do have great gatekeepers. I’ve never been able to fully write a straight genre film effectively or that I feel passionate about so I’m kind of stuck. A better at fundraising I could fund my own projects, but I saw writing as my best path to a film career so that was my best option. Now it’s murky. I can try a few queries to push my theater play. The past responses have been really good, but the companies I queried are small enough to not have the resources to push the full potential of it to the stage (at least that’s what they’ve said to me). There are a few avenues to pursue there—and I will try them—but the kind stability I always hoped to create for myself out of my writing may never materialize. Not sure where hope lies in this, but need to figure that out.

Other updates I can’t really talk about, except to say my depression has worsened. I am still in therapy and getting help, even though my therapist had to change. He’s nice and listens well, but isn’t as effective as my previous one. I forget exactly why she had to move on (it wasn’t retirement as it was before with others), but I do miss her insight and methods.

Overall there’s been a lot to deal with all at once (and as usual for me) without shutting down, but I’m definitely treading water instead of swimming.

Where You Get Love

I was asked to write about this by my therapist: is it okay for me to want love and acceptance? I struggle with this consciously and unconsciously every day. It goes way back to my childhood with being blamed for every small accident at home to being teased for my weight at school and almost everything in between. I grew up feeling every bad thing that happened to me was my own fault or I deserved it. This was especially true if I got bad news after something good happened to me; it reinforced the feeling that I was destined to have bad thing happen to me. With that I learned wanting things was selfish; even wanting love and acceptance. It was wrong and it would lead to bad things happening.

It took too long to realize wanting to be loved and accepted wasn’t selfish, but the people I was asking it from were. It was easier for them to thumb a nose at me rather than acquiesce and give what I ask for. I am worth it, but not according to them. What also enhanced that was feeling that there were people who did say they loved me but out of pity. This unfortunately has to do with my mom. When my parents divorced, my mom stayed with me and my sister for a year. The next year my dad moved back in and my mom moved out when she went to grad school. I always felt that if she really loved me she would have stayed. What I didn’t know at the time was she had her own mental health issues and was mostly trying to run away, which felt like she was pushing me away. So I sort of doomed myself to never being able to feel love from others or for myself. One parent and most kids (read people) wouldn’t give me appreciation or love at all; the one parent I wanted it from wasn’t around, so even when I got her love and attention, I felt like she was lying—like if you meant it you would have stayed. So I chased after it from people and never got it, or I got some of it and was angry about it or who I got it from.

And that was my life for the longest time. I knew it was something unsustainable and self defeating, but I kept up the chase thinking one day I could catch up to it. The realization that I wasn’t even going to catch it wasn’t one crystalizing moment; in unfolded painfully slow until I eventually could see some of the mistakes I was making, but still wasn’t able to change my behavior. Somewhere in this time, I was able to listen to people who had a more positive advice and attitude. The voices of my past are still there and always will be there talking, but thanks to others and actively—and actually—listening to them, I can pay attention to more positive messages rather than the ones suggesting I’m worthless. That made it okay to ask for love and acceptance and ask of it from people willing to give it. Plus I became sensitized to the idea that I am worth it enough to accept and ack for it.

I’ve always chased and wanted love because I couldn’t get any. It turns out I was asking the wrong people for it.

(P.S. Why is my therapist better at writing prompts than other writer friends of mine? That’s another mystery)

Needed Words

Dear H,

I know what happened with your dad in the car, and I need to talk to you about it. No one else will talk to you about it again (this I know), so you need to hear about it now or this will be a problem that never goes away.

First thing’s first: You. Did. NOTHING. Wrong. You really didn’t. You thought about your previous actions, you knew it was wrong, and you tried to apologize to make up for them. There’s nothing even remotely wrong about it, and matter if fact it was the right thing to do. Don’t let this stop you from ever doing the right thing again.

What your father did was WAY out of line. Like I said, you were doing the right thing; but your dad acted like a bully. He hit you not because you were trying to apologize, but because you weren’t being quiet like he told you to. That’s not being a godparent. That’s probably not even being a good person. He was using violence to maintain his authority. Period. What mattered to him was his words, not yours, even though yours were the more important. What’s worse is he will blame you for him hitting you. “I wouldn’t have done it if you kept quiet like I asked.” I know he’ll say. But you had every right to speak up, he had no right to strike you for it.

Yes it isn’t fair that he could do that much less get away with it, but when your father is an authoritarian narcissistic abuser, that’s what will happen. It will never be his fault in his eyes; but you need to know to everyone else he is at fault. Even worse, it’s unfair that he can do it and seemingly get away with it. It’s angering and I know you’re angry. You’re full of rage and alone with no one to talk to about it. But you can’t get lost in that anger.

Don’t close yourself off because of his actions. He wants to prove that he’s better than you because he’s a narcissist; but you can be better than him without playing his game. When you get a chance, write how angry this all makes you feel. Don’t hold back, just write. You never have to show him what you wrote, but whatever you’re feeling inside won’t be trapped there. I know you’d rather withdraw and not let him see anything you’re feeling. Unfortunately that will only hurt you in the end. You’ll close yourself off to a lot of people you deserve to know and can help you be a better person. The only way you can be a better person is to know in your heart and your head that you did nothing wrong. If you are able to find friends that you trust and tell them your story, they will tell you that you did nothing wrong; they will tell you the truth. Holding all that anger in will hurt you and make you want to hurt others. That would be just like your father. If that’s not what you want, you need to find a way to let that anger out safely. Write about it, talk about it, but don’t hold it in. It’s the worst thing you can do.

I know right now you feel alone and don’t have anyone you can trust. II know all you want to do is escape this anger and hurt. But believe me, the only way to get this out of your system is to get it out in words or paper. If you don’t feel words are safe to use now, use paper. Write it all down. After writing about it, talking about it will be easier. After talking about it, dealing with the pain will be easier. It might not feel like it at first, but it will get better.

You might not believe this because no one in your life has said so, but you are a good person. Hold onto that goodness because it will help you get through life.

Sincerely and with love,

David

Past Revisting?

This one is really messing me up. My therapist asked me to write a letter to my younger self about what happened after my dad slapped me for trying to apologize to my sister on the way to Disney World. In a nutshell, I annoyed my sister, dad told us to stop and be quiet for the next 10 minutes; during that time I realized I was wrong, tried to apologize to her, and dad started hitting me from the front seat because I wasn’t being silent. You can judge for yourselves.

This assignment is tough for me. It really was a traumatic moment for me, one of the most traumatic of my life especially since it fed into a lot of other l I was already dealing with at the time and even since. I’m supposed to write to my young self what words of hope or comfort I can give to a 12 year old after this situation.

Some of it I made bullet points for—“you did nothing wrong,” “your dad was at fault,” etc.—which help. But I get lost in what can I say to someone that really withdrew into himself that can heal him when I’m the end result of all that. I’m not sure if it was right after this (like arriving at the hotel) or soon after (like maybe a year later) that I made a conscious choice to not show any emotion around hm. At the time I meant sadness, crying or anger, but it wound up being everything. I remember at one point thinking about when was the last time I cried, and it had been a year; literally a year. A year which was kind of a blur. No memories of anything special, no memory of any crying or even laughing bouts. Just a year where I shut down, and I’m not sure anyone noticed. How do you tell a child not to do that? I’m a writer and I have no words to counter that.

I haven’t started it yet. I’m even nervous trying to write it. I’m not sure what to say and how I might feel while writing it. That’s a real kicker for me. I know it’s therapeutic to get this done and face it somehow, but I fear the space I’d be entering and afraid I might get trapped in it. Granted one can say I’m still trapped in it now, but that doesn’t make it any less frightening.

Cruel Summer and All Apologies

I feel like I owe everybody an apology for this summer. Having said that, it’s not everyone, but it feels like a lot of people.

When events spiraled out of control this summer, I tried to reach out to people to talk. A lot of the people I usually talk to I couldn’t because I knew they were going through their own stuff (and in one or two cases their own stuff added to my stress level), so I needed to reach out to other friends. And then my own anxieties got in my way. I keep forgetting the universe doesn’t revolve around me and people have their own lives and aren’t always on Facebook or their phones. So I wait for responses that never come back, and get more and more freaked out. Now let’s be fair: no one I tried to reach out to knew that I had my own personal crises going on. It also didn’t help that I reached out to friends low-key like “Hi. How are things?” instead of “Do you have a minute? I’m losing my mind!” No one knew what was happening. The last thing that didn’t help was that all my summer issues started by reaching out to people with messenger to gradually build up to something that would blow up in my face. Twice! (Well, one and a half times, but I’m too wired to do fractions right now). So trying to contact people and not hear back was just adding insult to injury.

Honestly, however, I set myself up for this one. Knowing I had just been hurt over text (literally), I reach out to people over text. Was I hoping for a different result? Maybe, and that’s probably what added to my stress. I got to the point that I thought I pissed off another friend and wrote her to apologize. Now when I get a message from people, they start off with an apology for not writing sooner, and I feel horrible about that. They aren’t being bad friends, I am.

So if I contacted you over the last few months and had no idea why I may have been stand offish if you replied, I humbly apologize. None of that ire or woe was meant for you; I was directing my own hurt outward at others and that was wrong. I’m really sorry. I know I haven’t lost any friend because of it and I know some friends will read this and say “what the hell is he talking about?” but I felt it needed to be said.

Punch Drunk

Does anyone remember the Tommy Morrison/Ray Mercer fight in 1991? It was a killer. 20 seconds into the fifth round, Mercer got Morrison tied up in the corner and unloaded on him with what Wikipedia calls a “15-punch combination.” It was at least five blows more than Mercer needed as Morrison was clearly out on his feet. But Morrison wouldn’t fall, not because he had the will to keep going, but because the ropes prevented him from dropping straight down and his body had no way of knowing which way to fall even as more punches landed. I saw the fight on TV with my mom, and I remember cringing when they cut back to Morrison 2-3 minutes after the fight ended and he still had his hand in guard by his head thinking the fight was still on. The thing is, that’s exactly how I feel these days.

What happened over the summer with those two friends happened and I can’t change that, but my reactions since then are as if I think I’m still in the fight. I’m in a daze, my guard up ready to find an opening but my opponent has left the ring. I get that this is a response to psychological trauma, but I’m still on the defensive waiting to avoid a blow that isn’t coming. What’s worse is I’m on defense from people who have gone on with their lives as if nothing happened. They’re Ray Mercer talking to reporters about who his next fight would be against while trainers and doctors are trying to bring Morrison back to reality. It’s a sad situation to be in and I’m stuck in the middle of it.

I am trying to recover. I found a group that are accepting patients and have started therapy again. Again—that word bugs me in this case. Not that I don’t need the help, but with the year’s I’ve been in therapy, I should be more than sane by now. Turns out I have a lot of work to do still. But even Morrison came back two years later to win the WBO heavyweight title. So there’s hope.

Eharmony v EtherapyPro

I posted this as a status on Facebook the other day, and I’m not kidding—about the post or the possible choices.

This summer gotten me completely out of whack. The two interactions with friends (that I can’t really talk about) has me unable to trust anything going on in my life right now—even past or present. I was hoping that the haze would lift eventually, but it feels denser. Going over all this stuff in my head, I found myself with two possible options: get a girlfriend or get a therapist. The way my life has gone so far, the therapist is the easier of the two to find. Not that find a therapist these days is easy; seems everyone is going to or back to therapy after the Great Pause, so finding any taking new patients can be at a premium.

Seriously, what I thought were two separate events has coalesced into a major depressive state and a minor existential crisis. Events tapped into a whole lot of shit I thought I had dealt with but apparently came bombarding back on me again. Not having anyone to talk to about this stuff only made things worse for me. Most friends were very busy this summer, and a even those that could lend an ear only had so much time to spare. So the search for a therapist is on.

It always feels like I need one at the most desperate times. When I was 22 and broke up with basically my first love, I was sent running and crying back into therapy. When the financial meltdown started my downward spiral, it took a year to get any help, and I was nowhere near stable when therapy was a regular thing after that. Now here we are again. After a summer that started out very hopeful crashed and burned with me inside it, I’m looking for professional help again. It’s not a bad thing, but it’s one more thing on top of a very overwhelming few months. But I do realize I’m not in a good state of mind, and it’s best to find someone professional to talk to. Hopefully sooner or later. I’m trying to be positive about the whole thing.

Summer Update: Too Much On My Mind

A lot happened since I last posted; unfortunately a lot of it I can’t talk about. It has noting to do with NDAs or gag orders or anything like that, but the people involved do read my blog and I’m not sure a full rant will help any situation. I do these blogs as therapy sometimes; I don’t have someone on call I can process my problems with, so I write. It helps. It really helps when I can get deep into a situation and how I feel, but I can’t right now. If ever any of my journals are put on display, people can read all about it and get it in the future. For now I have to be vague.

Two moments bug me the most. One was with someone who was in my life ages ago that reappeared; the other was a friend in trouble I was trying to help. The former situation went a different way that I hoped and expected; the latter exploded in a spectacular fashion no one could expect. One is sort of chatting with me a bit; the other isn’t talking to me at all. It all feels like a loss for me. What really sucked is that I was reeling from the first incident and then the second incident happened. Now I’m trying to deal with the fallout from both simultaneously and heal. It might be a long time before I can feel better about all of it. That sucks.

There are other happenings I can talk about but are still weighing my mind down. My daughter was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes and put on insulin and other meds late in the spring. She recently was taken off the insulin (keeping the oral meds) because her numbers are much better than they were initially. I still feel bad that it happened. Most events you don’t always have a hand in causing; diabetes is not one of them. My genetics, her problem. So I felt guilty for some time, so much so that my own diabetic numbers slipped away. I’m not looking forward to that next AC1 check.

Money has become a bigger issue since June. On June 1, my health insurance deductible reset to $0 for the insurance carrier’s new year. So I have to pay most/all out of pocket expenses until the deductible is met again, which may be a few months. With Sophia’s medication and mine, that is taking a sizable bite out of my wallet not to mention my ass; and this is on top of the high cost of what-the-fuck-isn’t expensive these days. I’m checking into a few things, but something’s got to give soon.

In some good news, I am trying to revise an older screenplay for the Black List. There’s a narrow category I’m trying for that I fall into and it will take the rest of the summer to finish. Unfortunately the stress from the other incidents get in the way more often than not. My concentration is shot and I need that to focus on making some good things happen. Hoping this entry helps a little with the flow.

Memes That Hit Home

I saw these two memes a few days back and it messed me up a bit. 

The sense of humor thing I’ve been saying for a few years now. Since 2009 with losing the job at WGBH then all the financial fallout from trying to reduce child support from a greedy angry bipolar woman, I have been on a downward spiral since then. It’s not that it ended with the death of Sophia’s mom, but it stabilized at a level I’ve never been comfortable with. Yes I do realize that I was in an abusive situation with Sophia’s mom, but it does not make being abused any easier. I’m already prone to depression and have—as a therapist once said—a high tolerance for misery, so the damage was done; but compound that with the economic upheaval I was in that I never experienced before and I’ve been a mess. That I’ve seen my sense of humor worn down to a nub has been distressing to me in general and as I used to be.

This sort of lead me to the second meme. What do you do when you can’t remember who you were before everything that happened to tamp down your spirit? My first memory of childhood was sitting on a couch listening to my parents talk to me and having the conscious thought of “Who are these people?” I’ve been in different shades of distress ever since then. I think I was three at the time; maybe younger. I honestly remember very few times when I was truly happy and content, and it was fleeting at best. Something would soon happen that threw me back into turmoil. There’s the old addage of faking it til you make it, but I think I’ve been doing that most of my life. Trying to get to a point where I am settled or content with things is a big goal, but I’m not even sure what that looks like.

There’s some truth to these memes, but getting to that point is pretty intense and painful.