Walking through the night in Allston trying to get back home, talked to a shadowy homeless dude along my path, kept walking and ran into cico, talked to him and then the homeless dude caught up. Cico knew him from the greasy-hipster-underbelly of emerson. I'd offered to let John stay the night at my Westland apartment, and he in turn invited this guy to stay. I was apprehensive but knew that if John wanted it to happen then it would probably be fine. We got back and later in my room I found out this dude actually used to be in the hipster cliques at emerson before becoming homeless the year before our last year. I realized I had peripherally known him at some point. What I had not known before was that he was also a long lost member of neutral milk hotel. He had then had an underground-cult-famous solo project with a neutral-milk-hotel-ish name, which I was always unable to remember. There had been a documentary on him. Something had happened to him that had changed everything, and now he'd been living on the cold streets for four years. I was happier to help then, as I was fascinated by his story, but he was still a dirty homeless man and I worried about getting sick from having him sleep in my room.
The next night I was trudging across the crunchy-snow-covered backwoods of Boston with rob and Brandon when we heard a car coming. I thought it might be the dude from last night, or another homeless guy I'd come across, and didn't want to have to deal with him another night, so as the car came into view of us we, or I at least, pretended to be sleeping on the snow.
Then it was raining. We reached the part where we had to scamper down the hill to the city streets. I fretted that I had left my shoes outside in the rain overnight. We approached the bright colorful city lights of Downtown. I went into a convenience store and knew where everything was because I'd worked there a long time ago. But I might've knocked something over, leading to an unwanted conversation with the current stock-boy.
Then I was in the subway, asking someone–was it the neutral milk hotel guy? Or an Asian proxy?–what hard thing had happened in his life. I asked him two easy questions, then I asked him if he'd lost someone close to him. He told me that I had asked a question that he could not answer, and started zooming ahead of me. I could not catch up to tell him that I had too.
That's a powerful dream, to say the least. That last line kills me. People handle the loss of a loved one in different ways and it takes time to feel normal. I know you've never been one to talk much about your feelings but, if you ever need it, I'm here to listen. I love you and care for you, bro!
ReplyDeleteAlso, I coincidentally just listened to a Sam Harris podcast with a Buddhist guy who teaches about death and all it entails. From what there is to learn from it, to how to cope, and how to comfort others. I think it was fine podcast but I'd be more interested in the guy's books.
The story of the homeless dude reminded of what I went through a couple of years ago. A little different but it reminded me of it so here it is:
Believe it or not, the possibility of me losing my mind and becoming homeless was one of the anxieties that I had to battle a couple of years ago. At the height of my anxieties, every moment of every day, I was battling my mind. I thought that I was losing control and that I was going crazy. I would look at homeless people on the street and think that could be me. The thought of losing the people that I loved is what hurt the most. I don't know if you remember but there was a night on the bus back from work where I couldn't get out of my head. It was a constant loop of anxiety. Original anxiety->anxiety about not being able to control my anxiety->I'm going crazy->I'm going to lose my friends and the family I love. I think I was listening to Dan Carlin at the time so I was trying to assuage the situation by focusing on the podcast but couldn't. Finally, when I got off the bus, all the emotions that I had held in burst out. I was crying from thinking about the loss that I could experience. Thankfully, Los Angeles side walks are empty so there was no need to hide. It wasn't until I got to the house that I had to face anyone. I think we were watching one of the Scream movies with Alex and Audri and I texted you that I wouldn't be able to partake. You didn't see the text so I decided to clean up and watch the movie rather than have you guys wait for me. I made it through the night with no problems but I think that was the final straw for me when I knew that seeking out a therapist wasn't a question anymore.
When I finally went to a therapist, what helped the most was just being open. I had someone who I felt comfortable talking to about all the stupid shit that went on in my mind and to my surprise he didn't care. Meaning, he listened and told me that I'm fine. I remember thinking why aren't we talking about these crazy thoughts? They are fucking crazy! and then realizing that there is no need to. In a somewhat Buddhist way, we observed the thoughts but gave them no power. And slowly they faded. Seems weird talking about it now because I don't fully recognize that old me. I still see my anxieties pop up here and there but with nowhere near the same vigor.
It's wild to think about what people are dealing with on a daily basis that you would never know about. Humans are great at hiding in plain sight.