Sunset or sunrise, you decide, October 2008
Jimmy is stressed out. His wife accuses him of being miserable all the time. He reads the paper during supper. Last night his daughter spilled an entire carton of milk under the fridge. There was swearing. He made his daughter clean up the milk drop by drop (she was sobbing of course) and then he dumped her on an evening of Barney videos while he retreated downstairs to watch TSN, have a beer, and smoke one cigarette.
He can't walk a block without his inhaler at the ready. At 375 lb.s, he feels old and sick nearly all the time.
He knows he needs to change something, but he doesn't know what. Eight months ago, he cut back on his smoking from two packs a day to one cigarette per hour. And he switched to lights.
He lives up to his Friar Tuck image by laughing, joking, making fun of himself in public, and always being helpful. Last week, he made a show of getting stuck in the door of the trailer. "Help, oh help! The fat man's stuck in the door. Why do they make trailer doors so small?! Call 911. Call the piano movers. Ha ha. Just kidding." (Not really.)
His nickname is ironic: Lil' Jimmy.
He's 38.
What's Lil' Jimmy to do?
First step: Describe your suffering, Jimmy. How does it feel when you yell at your daughter? When your wife yells at you? What do you say to yourself? What does it feel like when you walk around the block and you feel your lungs closing up? What happens in your chest and what happens in your head? What is your body saying to you when you wake up in the morning? Start at your toes and work your way up to the top of your head. What does each part of your body feel like? Be a witness to your own suffering and write it down.
[Readers: feel free to participate in this story and anonymously respond to this post as Lil' Jimmy. Describe his suffering or substitute your own. This may seem like a bummer task, but it's really the start of understanding that suffering exists and there is a cause for suffering. This is a spontaneous experiment for me, but I promise to follow through if the need arises.]
-----
17 comments:
I'm Little Jimmy. I feel like shit when I yell at my daughter. I know she can't help spilling stuff cause she is just a little girl. I hate myself and that is why I yell at her. When my wife yells at me I know she is just frustrated with me and my inability to pull myself out of this blue funk I am in. So starting today, I am going to do better. I will walk around the block everyday until I can do without nearly dying. Also I will take myself to a the family Dr. and get a check-up just to see how bad off I am. Maybe he will give me something to help me out of my depression and in turn it will help out the rest of the family also. Who knows, it can't get any worse. Can it?
I don't have the creative energy to put into a posting ... but sometimes what we see as "suffering" is instead a much preferred substitute for the real pain that Lil Jimmy might be avoiding.
Sure - he feels old. Sure, he feels sickly. But, it's easier to concentrate on that than whatever is really hurting him inside.
And, whew boy - there is lots that can hurt inside.
Jimmy: I like your plan. It's a smart idea to see a doctor and learn about your physical health. You hinted a little at how you feel inside, emotionally. Self-loathing, depression. How do those emotions feel physically? I'm curious.
Honour: I totally agree with you, but how does one root out those potential causes to the physical suffering? Because as you know, all suffering has a cause.
BTW, do you think we (people in general) spend too much time & effort separating our physical symptoms from our emotional ones? Too much time separating them? I'm beginning to see them as equal partners. Kind of like looking at yourself in a funhouse mirror room where you are presented with two images of yourself. Which me is real? They both are. Neither of them are. (The real you is something else.)
Jimmy here. Depression feels as if the whole world is black. It is like you cannot do anything right, like you have no self worth. It isn't a pleasant feeling to have.
I wonder why I bother. I wonder why I keep going. I wonder why I fight every damn day. I can see where this is heading. There is a gulf between us; a gap I cannot bridge. I rage and rail against that gap and watch as you are pushed further. God, I need a cigarette.
Jimmy, Depression for me is like a constant fear. Helpless like the pain in a phantom limb, like a forced march, like a long fall.
It's an interesting emotion because it's all around, (I see my old self all around me now that I'm feeling better) yet it's not something I've really talked about. Plainly.
--
Bob schleps into the office. Stan, his office mate greets him. "Hey Bob how was your weekend?"
"Stan, it was the shits. I was depressed--I am depressed--I feel like there's been a black bag on my head since Friday night."
"Oh, that's too bad. I was depressed for about 15 minutes when I woke up to the snow, but I had some coffee and hit the shovel. Felt better once I was out in fresh air."
"Oy, I wish it was that easy."
--
We don't have conversations about depression because ... I'm not sure why not. It ain't no fun I guess.
A few more questions for you Jimmy:
1. How would you rate your depression on a scale of 1 to 10? Does it vary by time (hour, day, week, month, year), location, people you are with, or not with.
2. What would the opposite of depression look like to you? As many details as you want.
"I wonder why I bother":
You've really captured the helplessness AND the frustration. Almost like it's under the control of some outside force.
Jimmy here,
I'm a bit pissed off right now. It happens when people try to get in my head and figure me out. Like I fit into some odd-shaped peg fashioned for people who are not quite right. And yet, at the same time, we are the forgotten leftovers rotting in the back of the fridge. You take us out when you need to purge the things that make you suck just a bit less than we do. We give you power in some strange sort of way. And that pisses me off . . .
..My head is swirling with so many thoughts.. Anger, despair, lack of control, what control?, feeling silly, feelings of inadequacy.. How did I get here? What has become of the man I use to be? What happened to the person I wanted to become?...
**Snaps out of the daze he was in**
ugh Where are these thoughts coming from?
**heh everyone, everywhere, no where...we are many.. meep. You are not alone...
Jimmy here: At the lowest point the depression is a 10. Sometimes not so bad, maybe then a 7. As for the time of the day, well it is all the time. Maybe more at night. Thank God for mindless tv shows. Now for me the opposite of depression would be a day at the beach, sun shining, waves washing up onto the sand, gulls flying in the sky, squawking or whatever noise they make. Now that is what a perfect day would be, just me and the sun and no thoughts.
Tysdaddy, Danger, Jimmy 1,
Busy with work for the next few days. I'll be back. Much to chew on here!
M
Tysdaddy Jimmy:
Lots of anger there, friend. I know you lived the overweight thing. Was this something you experienced? That is, people telling you how you should be.
I grew up stuttering and having people tell me to “slow down” or “take a breath” or the famously memorable (for me) “talk right, dammit.”
I felt helpless to the uncontrollable grip of my stuttering back then, before I learned how to manage it, and all that taking it resulted in some self-esteem issues. On a deep level, I felt inferior, and that really affected my life choices. I didn’t even dare to have dreams or if I did, I kept them practical, reasonable, modest, invisible.
The lesson that finally worked its way through my life was this: I’m not inferior. Nor superior. And I do have dreams. Big ones. The only person who can help me achieve them, the only one who can really make then happen, is me.
Yet, Danger Jimmy has a point. I’m not alone. I’m not unique in my suffering. I am Jimmy. We all are. I see myself in Jimmy 1, your Jimmy (Tysdaddy), and “I wonder why I bother” Jimmy. And I do hope all these reflections can see some of themselves in me.
It’s time to move on to another Jimmy post.
Be a witness to my suffering? I don't want to witness to others...it is much easier to keep it trapped inside this big fat filled "safe" I call a body. Nobody cares what I am going through. Nobody cares about how I feel when I yell at my daughter...which comes back to me in the form of my wife. My body politely tells me in the morning...from my toes to my nose...it whispers..."today is more of the same" and I yell back "No! It won't be, I can do better, I can feel better!" The first threads of anger sneak into my brain before I even make it to the shower..and I realize...more of the same.....
Cheryl: Very nice Jimmy. I like this voice. It's good to notice those habits. At least when they are visible Jimmy will have a chance of letting them go. It's hard to let go of something you don't know you're holding on to.
Jimmy knows what he needs to do. He is afraid of being as marvelous as he knows he can be. He is afraid of the ugly work it will take to get there, and he is ashamed at how hard he's worked to obfuscate himself. I think shame is the worst for him. He knows he is better than this. He knows that, like the milk under the fridge, it's a big mess to clean up. And it will only get stinkier if he doesn't do it. He doubts his strength, but he fears his strength even more. Because once he starts there will be no stopping him. And sometimes the devil you know... well, you know.
I think Jimmy can do it, though.
Emma. Thank you for helping remember about Jimmy. I tend to write these things and move on (attention issues). I want to revisit Jimmy again. He isn't done.
I like your comment. It feels like Spring.
Post a Comment