The Most Important Thing I’ve Ever Done

This blog could be the best thing I've ever done. (Update: It's okay.)

What’s the most important thing you’ve ever done?

I had the thought today that this blog might be mine.

Not overcoming the intense shyness of my teenage years; not defeating the depression that took me down in my 20s; not making a home in Montreal; not co-founding Crew (slash carving out the best career in the world); not learning a second language (still on the todo list); not learning to have healthy romantic relationships with women; not your mom – this blog.†

Why? Well, stay with me for a minute.

Physically I’m in pretty good order. But now and then I have a bad day when my body decides it doesn’t wanna work correctly. There’s still no real explanation for it, but it has been happening pretty rarely and isn’t THAT bad so I mostly just sit in front of a TV until it passes and go back to whatever I was doing. Anyway, I had three bad days this week, and on the last one I completely broke down in a sobbing ball in front of my family.

Three bad days in a week was unprecedented. Clearly, I was dying. The result: a panic attack.

I haven’t had a panic attack with that level of intensity since I was ~10 years old. The tingling sensation in my extremities was a “holy shit, I forgot about you” moment, like re-finding that sex tape of your 5th grade teacher.††

Use your words

I’ve always been a little up-and-down mood-wise. But these last few years I’ve been mostly up. I’ve had tough spots and have gotten a little weepy in front of friends and girlfriends. Pretty minor, if not expected given the stupid levels of pressure I often put on myself.

The point though is that the worst feelings always come from the same trigger – facing my own weakness. Be it a physical problem or mental one. I like to pretend my problems don’t exist and keep ’em inside but, when I can’t save face, something doesn’t line up in my head and I break down. (Psychologists I’m sure are nodding their heads. Textbook, probably.)

Even though I think about my “problems” all the time (as we probably all do), it’s when I verbalize them to another human that … holy shit. It hits me like a ton of bricks falling from a truck that was being hauled to space by a rocket designed by nazis.

This particular day (which happened to be yesterday) was worse than all the others. Probably because it happened to be while I was home in Newfoundland for the holidays. Something about being there pushes emotions over the top for me. Escaping from it was a solution to many of the issues I dealt with for years.

Or was it?

The Point

Maybe I was just able to push my issues down and pave them over with the frantic schedule that’s been my life for the past 4 years. Maybe I still haven’t dealt with my particular bucket of crazy in the way in which I need.

If I’m right, this blog is going to be very very important. The hypothesis is that every issue I listed above stemmed from a bigger underlying issue – my inability to talk about and address whatever badness was going on in my life at the time.

So how do I address that? By having a place to talk about these issues that is so public I can’t possibly hide from them. I can’t just pretend everything is fine with this site lurking out there. I can’t stop talking to an old friend because I’m embarrased s/he knows my deep dark feels. (Something I did more than once in my younger days, sadly.)

I’m gonna run head-first into the very thing that turns me into a crying, horrible mess of a person and do it over and over and over until it’s NBD.

Then we can go to lunch.

† All these will be future topics of discussion here I’m sure, except for your mom

†† Only an example. To my knowledge, no such tape exists of Mr. Woodrow