So I had a choice this weekend.
I could stay home by myself, which is always my inclination. On top of that, it was my team’s turn to do set-up at church (we meet in a gymnasium) and I’ve finked out on the team twice this summer already.
Or I could go up to my brother Baal’s, where brother Moloch and his family were going. This would be a gesture to my family, which I’ve been (frankly) neglecting.
I decided the obligation to help with set-up took priority, so I stayed home.
This is how it worked out:
My pocket calendar said the set-up team would meet at 10:00 p.m. on Saturday. That’s late, but it’s not unprecedented. Sometimes they have events in the gymnasium, and we’re only able to get in when it’s clear. I was certain the message on my answering machine had said “10:00 p.m.”
So I showed up at 10:00 p.m. sharp. As I drove in and noticed that no other cars were there, the thought crossed my mind for the very first time that I’d gotten the meridian wrong. It had been 10:00 antemeridian, not postmeridian.
I waited ten minutes, then went home depressed, knowing I’d let the team down once again.
I was able to help tear down on Sunday morning, and as it turned out the floor mats had already been rolled out for them at set-up, so their Saturday morning job had been lighter than usual. But I still felt humiliated.
So I spent Sunday thinking dark thoughts, meditating on my many personal failings, studying my forehead in the mirror for the mark of Cain.
It seems to me this weekend is a sort of metaphor for life as an Avoidant. I remember a feature Edward Gorey did once for the National Lampoon years ago, called something like, “A Child’s Rainy Day Activity Book.”
Among the items in the “Book” were a number of cut-out figures, printed on the front and back of a single page. The instructions said, as I remember them, “You will note that several of these figures are printed front-to-back with figures on the previous page, so that if you cut out one, you will destroy the one on the other side. There are several ways to deal with this problem, all of them unsatisfactory.”
That seems to me a good motto for my life. “There are several ways to deal with my problems, all of them unsatisfactory.”
If I keep to myself and avoid my fellow man, I escape many unpleasant experiences, but at the same time make my whole life generally unpleasant and lonely, and I get depressed.
If I try to break out of my shell, I either have good experiences (which don’t happen that often, and I generally discount them if they do) or I have bad experiences, which validate my low self-esteem. This also leads to depression.
The choice seems to be between easily won depression and strenuously won depression.
What to choose, what to choose?
In any case my renter came home safe and sound this afternoon, so I don’t have to worry about losing my meal ticket just now.
I’ll have to put my mind to figuring out a reason to be depressed about that.
Maybe it would help to re-phrase the question? Instead of looking at it as easily won or strenously won depression, take heart in the fact that if you tried something and failed, at least you tried. Then, if you’re going to be depressed anyways, at least you will have a good reason for it.
On the other hand, I bounced this line of thinking off my wife, who is a bit of an avoidant herself, and she said it doesn’t work that way. Oh well. I tried. And I failed. Now I’m depressed too.
The only other solution I can think of is to get a copy of the book, How To Make Yourself Miserable by Dan Greenburg. It’s out of print, but Amazon has plenty of used copies.
His basic thesis is that some people are only happy when they are miserable. He presents the best way to make your miserable as getting rejected in a social setting. Therefore, he goes on for chapter after chapter evaluating common methods for attaining rejection in various social scenarios. He also discusses how to overcome the grave danger of becoming so miserable that you actually become happy, the realization of which can only lead to more misery – A vicious cycle.
I actually have a copy of How to Make Yourself Miserable around here somewhere. It’s a hilarious and very perceptive book.
For instance, in one chapter, there’s a section on comparing yourself to others. “Compare your own achievements to this list of perfectly ordinary people who were selected entirely at random.” The “random” list consists of Einstein, Mozart, etc.
Canadian musical humorist Anna Russell has a torch song for you:
“I’m so glad you made me miserable …
… so come make me miserable again.”
I remember once back in my fishing days when I was sitting in the boat reading this book, and someone walked in (nobody locked, and seldom closed their doors) and asked to see what I was reading. When I showed him the book he gave me the strangest look, (I don’t think he realized it was humor)and then left.
– yes; you’d think being a commercial fisherman would be all you needed to do :=)
– of course you can’t feel properly sorry for yourself unless you’ve put at least some effort into doing something positive.
I thought it was the Law of the Sea that you had to ask “Permission to come aboard?” before going on board somebody else’s boat. You’re destroying my illusions.