All the Feels & None at All: Sentimentality vs. Detachment

The title to this reminds of the iconic line from Mean Girls when the random girl says ‘I just have a lot of feelings’ (She doesn’t even go here!). 2004 – What a time, but let me not digress.

During the last couple of months, after every episode of Euphoria, I go on social media and become immersed in the discourse around it. With any TV show or movie I watch, I love to go onto Twitter afterwards and be both entertained and mystified by the commentary on it.

That’s one of the perks of social media, right? The ability to be connected with complete strangers over a captivating piece of art/media and the dissection of it is a great bonus of technology. I get a good laugh at the endless memes surrounding unintentionally funny moments or big revelations. I am an odd duck in that I actually embrace spoilers – patience is not my strong suit.

However, in going through the tweets and other comments on each episode of Euphoria, I’ve noticed how powerful a lot of the subject matter is for many viewers. The raw depiction of a young woman’s struggles with addiction and mental health and how it trickles down to the people in her atmosphere is very honest, tangible and relatable.

The show has its lighter moments, which makes it a great mix of genres for people to sink their teeth into every week. Maddy vs. Cassie, while with deeper themes than petty high school BS, has become a national social media war of rationales. If you’re Team Cassie, I would NOT trust you around my partner is all I’m saying.

Many viewers feel ‘triggered’, sad and just generally uneasy about the heavy content of the show, but I realized I have little response to it in the way others seem to.

Maybe I’m just taking the show and others like it for what they are – entertainment. Granted, these stories are coming from very authentic spaces. Or maybe I’ve just seen enough and too much at the same time in my life that I’m barely fazed by it.

Am I just cold? Am I devoid of empathy, compassion and other similar emotions?

In the last few years, I’ve pondered this particular yin and yang of my personality. On one hand, I am very emotional – loud, enthusiastic, passionate, loyal, empathetic and so on. On the other, there are moments in time that I feel completely detached and lacking what others might feel about something similar.

I have recently cried while listening to ‘Perfect’ by Ed Sheeran (if that doesn’t inspire feelings, maybe YOU are the heartless one), been on the verge of tears watching videos from The Dodo account, full of animal rescue tales (highly recommend) and felt that indescribable feeling of joy and peace being at the top of a hiking trail.

Then, I have had little to no poignant reaction in hearing about the latest school shooting, the daily headlines of America potentially going to war with Russia and am cautious, but rolling my eyes at any blurb I read about COVID at this point.

To backtrack, I think the reason Euphoria doesn’t strike a particularly emotional chord with me is because I have lived many of these scenarios and know many of these characters as real people in the flesh. Seeing it on TV (and done quite well in my opinion) is great, but not reinventing the wheel for me.

My mother was an alcoholic from when I was ten until the day she died. From hospital visits, breaking her arm falling in the bathroom, being in many rehabs and just deteriorating in front of the family, I’ve seen addiction in all its shades.

My brother had a few rocky years with substance abuse where he was more aggressive than usual, looked terrible, made sketchy choices and had little regard for others in general. I’ve had a Rue in my life.

One of my closest friends became addicted to pills after a bad car accident in our teenage years. From there on out, she was not the same person for another decade. She would lie and steal from whoever and whenever to get money for her fix – and that’s putting it kindly.

I was closely related to a situation where an acquaintance was left to die after an overdose by unsavory ‘friends’. In the ensuing aftermath, there was threat of severe retribution if anyone spoke up. That Laurie arc when Rue owed her money was wild though.

These situations are not just polarizing television entertainment – they’re real life.

On the less heavy end, these high school dynamics are all par for the course to many. An abusive, on again, off again boyfriend. A backstabbing best friend. Identity crises and figuring out your sexuality.

These are all common, run of the mill type of stereotypes and regular incidents.

So, for me, I don’t see anything that I haven’t already seen twenty times over or anything that I didn’t once feel all the emotions for.

Back to real life though. I find myself feeling like maybe I’m just being point blank ignorant in regards to the daily news. I’m not actively dismissing it or not understanding the gravity of it, but maybe I’ve just become so desensitized to the constant chaos that it’s just another Monday in America.

School shootings are a very horrific pandemic all their own that has been plaguing our country for a solid 20+ years now. I remember the coverage of Columbine in 1999. In recent times, it has exploded and there is not a week that goes by where you won’t read about a student opening fire on classmates and faculty.

We all know about Sandy Hook and Parkland, but those are the ones that garnered so much more press for whatever reason. The other hundreds get a blip of time on the 5 o’clock report and then it’s onto which hair care product is most effective. I like Suave because I’m on a budget.

For me, I see this and the repetition of it all and just shake my head in disbelief. Ten seconds later though, I keep my day going and it’s like nothing monumental happened.

It’s been said we’re on the brink of World War 3 for a while now and given the increasingly fragile and chaotic state of the world, it may very well be coming before we know it.

I don’t know all the semantics of the Russia situation and quite honestly, our government and news outlets have historically spun many things to their favor. Whatever the case, it’s a scary possibility and it’s easy to not give it much thought until someone we love gets blown away in a bombing. It’s easy to be passive when you’re not directly affected.

But what can any of us do really about that type of situation? I worry about it, but then detach myself from the moment because it’s genuinely out of my hands.

More in our daily lives, the pandemic is still a very real problem. The country has reached a level of complacency with it, where some have abandoned even the basic common courtesy they were barely upholding since March 2020 and others are going about their lives, but being considerate of others.

At this point, we’ve all, in one way or another, become used to living in a pandemic-filled world. This seems to be it, folks. We can wear our masks at the supermarket, get vaccinated if we want, stay home if we feel like shit and yeah – other than that, it appears to just be life now.

But I don’t think that’s necessarily being unemotional, ignorant or disassociating from the psychological implications of it.

I think that’s just feeling the weight of the state of affairs for a while, adjusting your mentality and expectations to the circumstances and then trying to keep your life moving. What else can you do?

Otherwise, mental institutions would be overrun and making their money tenfold. We all belong in Bellevue though given the right day. It actually might be a nice break. And I say that as someone who has all-encompassing OCD, so don’t come for me about mental health jokes.

Simply put and said often, humans are multilayered creatures. None of us are just ONE thing or unable to shift perspective and change our opinions on matters.

I wondered for a while if some of the experiences in my life have turned me into someone who was becoming cold, hardened by life and bereft of all the qualities I mentioned before – warmth, empathy, compassion etc.

From addiction to death to grief to the occasional discontent with life, I, like any other, have been through some shit.

It’s easy to see someone who comes across as bitter, hollow or unenjoyable and make assumptions, but maybe they’ve just become that way as a result of events we know nothing about.

What I came to realize about myself is that I most definitely am not those things – yet (check back in 10 years). If anything, I appreciate this balancing act and see the benefit of being detached. I’ve learned through the heavier times what I can and cannot give my time and energy to.

Life is a beautiful journey, but it comes with painful detours. As a result, you become more in tune with yourself as to what you can feel ALL the damn feelings about and what shouldn’t probably become all-consuming.

So, if I let a few tears go at a scene out of an episode of Queer Eye (Yes, you read that right), but don’t get overly emotional about my friend’s newborn baby, just know that I’m not a complete monster – for that reason anyway.

Held Together by a Thread: Letting Go of Resiliency

This past January was a rough one for me. January is the stereotypical long month that all those memes talk about and feels like it just drags on. It makes sense. It’s cold, dreary and dark more hours of the day than feels necessary or polite. It’s just out there mocking us! September is another lackluster month, but that’s for another time.

But this January was particularly tumultuous for me. From the potential end of a long-term, loving relationship to grieving the anniversary of my mother’s death in a deeper, more crushing way than ever before and the general realization that my life was not in order in some ways, I have felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion and hopelessness.

I’ve always prided myself on the ability to be resilient in miserable times. I go by the general rule of thumb of allowing myself to feel like garbage for a day or two at most and then moving it along. It’s not healthy to dwell for extensive periods and I was adamant about sticking to that.

But this has been different.

I felt a bit broken. I felt like I let myself and a few others down. I felt like I should have been doing more for myself than I had been. It’s no one’s life but mine and I wasn’t making progress in the way I needed to be.

During the last month, I had days where I felt truly defeated and allowed myself to cry for a few minutes. Then, I’d shake it off and go about my day. Like I said, I felt like that had been working for me and it was a release, but I wasn’t allowing it to be all-consuming.

Part of this approach is because I have been dealt a pretty great hand in the world, full of privilege in life and its opportunities. Other people are facing much dire circumstances every day. I just saw the movie Blood Diamond for the first time the other night – you know what I mean? However, that does not mean, no matter our environments, that we all don’t have times of crisis in different forms.

Despite this stance, life has a funny way of letting you know that you’re not above losing all control no matter how resolute you are in your ability to cope.

I did it to myself, really. Already feeling down and out, I was eating dinner and an old Adele song came on my playlist. I would be remiss to not see the complete comedy in the fact that an Adele tune turned me into a ball of emotions; however, just about all of her songs are designed to provoke those feelings, right? I won’t be shamed for my choices!

When I say I was crying over my salmon, barely able to see out of my face that was drenched in tears and gasping for air as I tried to fight a losing battle against the release of everything I felt pain about, I am not exaggerating. Again, pure ridiculousness. The moment belonged on a bad rerun of Modern Family or maybe The Big Bang Theory because I love Modern Family.

I was crying on and off for a solid three hours. I hesitate to call friends in these moments because although I know they are invaluable sources of support, I strive to not burden anyone with my problems.

However, I put my ego to the side and vented to a good friend, who was as always supportive and understanding. Shout out to those real ones!

What I realized from that evening is that even though I consider my durability to be one of my best and most helpful attributes, it does not mean I always have to be composed.

Part of the subconscious root of feeling like I needed to always maintain composure is part societal and part my own internal expectations.

Even though times have changed a LITTLE, there are still many antiquated notions of masculinity as far staying tough and unwavering in hard times. You’re supposed to be stronger than any of the supposed ‘weak shit’.

On top of that and more importantly, I’ve always had expectations of myself to be sturdy in the face of adversity and keep that steadfast sense of self despite the circumstances.

I’ve developed this bone over time dealing with various aspects of life that made me stronger, knowledgeable and well again… resilient.

It was the volatile relationship with my brother over the years that made me realize I could never let someone make me feel bad or give energy to the petty.

It was my mother’s belligerent alcoholism and subsequent deterioration that made me realize that you are in control your own life, make your own choices and that you can’t place expectations on anyone because they may disappoint you.

It was being a gay man, being met with some hateful, ignorant commentary and realizing that the only person that needed to accept me was me and that I should always be proud of who I am – although there are a few embarrassing moments we’ll leave out of any future memoir (college wasn’t my finest hour).

It was having phases of anxiety, from terrifying panic attacks to grueling OCD, which taught me that you have to fight through the uncomfortable to reach a better understanding with yourself.

It was so many situations and phases of life that built that spirit, grew that bone to the max and made me confident that, with my system in place, I could get through any shitstorm.

But what the last month taught me is that this bone can break. Nothing is invincible or shatter-proof.

I don’t want to quote a Lifetime movie or the most generic motivational speech you may have once heard, but we can break into pieces… and that’s okay. Tony Robbins ain’t got nothing on me.

This isn’t new information, but I needed to be reminded of that. You put so much effort into wanting and trying to make things as perfect as can be and keeping your head above water in every which way that eventually, you need to let go.

Again, I have for years now prided myself on my ability to bounce back and push through any negativity and letting it be just a blip on the radar and nothing more. What I realized that is that maybe my belief in my own endurance needed to be let go.

Sure, I will still utilize that as it is very useful in life, but I can also let myself be a human being and give into more than just five minutes of despair, especially if it’s going to be healing and helpful afterwards.

The other side of breaking is the ability and chance to reform yourself and your surroundings into something better, right?

So what have I been doing before, during and after this predicament and subsequent insight? The same things I’ve been doing, but with refreshed purpose and outlook.

Therapy is so vital and something everyone should consider doing to work out any internal battles and simply for both cathartic release and an objective second opinion. Every session might not leave me feeling like something groundbreaking happened, but the benefits show themselves in unexpected ways and I go forward with better understanding.

Exercise is truly what I consider a necessary evil. I’ve always wanted to be more toned and put some muscle on this skinny frame. I’ve come in and out of waves of consistency, but now I immediately implemented a workout plan because its payoffs are indisputable. This should be an advanced warning to my friends that I will not hesitate to post thirst traps on IG when the time comes and have no regrets.

Blogging is something I’m still learning about every time I make a post and try to become assimilated with a community of writers. Writing is my true passion, something that brings me pleasure and productivity. My hope is that I connect with someone, somewhere on any level.

Hobbies are something I’ve really contemplated during the last month too. What do I do with my time outside of career-related things and seeing my family and friends? Asking yourself that question really makes you wonder about how you spend your days. Relaxation is essential, but other spare time should be spent doing worthwhile activities. I’ll get back to you on that one though.

All of these things come together to make me feel healthy, productive, passionate and above all – happy.

It’s nice to write about all of this and wrap it up with a bow, but of course it’s never that simple. To be alive is to go through rocky times and have a meltdown or seven. But that’s alright.

For me, it’s been about letting go of the idea of constant strength and embracing the walls caving in sometimes so you can build something better.

But again, I’ll leave the words of inspiration to Tony, Brene Brown, Iyanla Vanzant and the gang over there at TED Talks.

My Neck, My Back: The Glory & Agony of Getting Older

If the words ‘my neck, my back’ didn’t immediately make you recall the lyrics of a very famous X-rated song of our time… well, congratulations on being less of a degenerate than me.

It’s oversimplifying it to say that you should be grateful for every year of life we get. I’ve said it ad nauseam about how I try to live by a gratitude perspective in my daily proceedings, even though I still give in to the occasional (daily) bitching and moaning about petty things. Wah, wah, wah.

With a little age has come a little knowledge from all the instances of trial and error, including moments of overwhelming embarrassment, devastating heartbreak, comical misunderstandings and even a couple of times in handcuffs – I’m not a felon, I promise.

I personally feel like I’ve gotten better looking with age, but I guess that’s a matter of opinion. More than anything, there’s just more confidence in who you are and no feeling ashamed of your quirks.

Brains and beauty aside, aging is a gift. However, some things that once were will never be again and I have mixed feelings about it. Some are things I never hope to see or do again and others I look back on with fondness and humor.

There are certain aspects of entering my third decade that I am not a fan of.

No Spring Chicken: This is a pretty common sign of the times for many of us. Whether it’s our neck, back, knees, hips or a combination of all of them, something isn’t bending and moving around with the finesse it used to. Over the years, I was able to leap over fences in one bound or at the very least scale them with ease and grace. Now, I think I can jump maybe three feet off the ground – my non-existent hopes of the NBA are long gone. I consider myself to be in mildly good shape, but whew, I threw my neck out a few months back from dancing in my bedroom and was unable to turn my neck either way without extreme pain for a week. There was a time if I slipped on ice or fell down a case of stairs (it happened quite often), I would bounce up and keep it moving. If I go down now, the recovery time won’t be as swift. I fell through a friend’s shower curtain, wiping out the whole bathroom and I wasn’t right for a few days. My pride hurt more than my face.

Moderation Nation: I often wonder about people who still consume alcohol in pretty much the same manner now in our 30s as we all did back at 18 or 21. My reaction is a mix of ‘good for you’ and also complete disbelief and jealousy. The body just isn’t breaking down the chemical compounds in my vodka club like it once did. A few friends and I had a tradition in college called Grey Goose Mondays where we would finish a large bottle strictly with shots over the course of ONE HOUR. We each got about 10 shots. If I took ten shots at this point, I would not know my first name, get alcohol poisoning and need a trip to the hospital for a quick stomach pump. These days, my maximum is four drinks and even then, I still wake up a touch hungover. On the positive side, my favorite vice is much cheaper and more manageable now. It’s kind of great now though because after three drinks, I’m just the right amount of tipsy and ready to go to bed. Unfortunately what did not change with age is the urge to dance like a white fool with no rhythm. It’s the little things.

Gastrointestinal Chaos: Speaking of alcohol, after enough indulgence, the queasiness and bathroom trips that can come in the morning after were an unexpected part of aging. There are days when you could eat a bagel and it’ll run right through you and force to run for the toilet. Bubble guts, I believe, is the term. Disgusting, but on point. The Pepto Bismol commercial never officially made it clear who their target demographic was, but we all know it was anyone over the age of 30. I abused Tums for heartburn in my early 20s and will not take it anymore; however, they are a Godsend if necessary. Ah, the joyful ignorance and lack of care for certain things that comes with being younger. The days of eating four slices of pizza, washing it down with a huge bottle of Pepsi and eating ice cream after are gone – for me anyway. The silver lining is that you try to treat your body better in certain regards, but sometimes, you throw caution to the wind and will go out for a Mexican feast. Those chips and guacamole, burritos and piece of Dulce de Leche are all fun and games until you’re losing half your body weight in the bathroom an hour later. It’s unpleasant. I miss 2007.

Endless Lethargy: All those memes with the words ‘this can’t be the same (insert word) that I used to with’ referring to aging don’t ring any more relevant and true than they do with the constant exhaustion I feel. What the hell? I prefer the general 7-8 hours of sleep a night we’re supposed to get and can manage on 6, but if I get less… I am an unpleasant individual. Shout out to all the parents of newborns and children right now laughing at my naiveté and salute to you because I can’t comprehend the months of sleep deprivation. Even when I do get the proper sleep though, I am still ready to lie down by 2PM – the coffee just isn’t cutting it. You begin to understand why people do a little coke here and there. Is it something in my diet? Is it anxiety and depression? Or am I just fucking OLD? The latter seems like the answer. Gone are the days when I could stay up til four in the morning, get three hours of sleep and be on a boat somewhere by noon.

Noise: Am I just becoming a severely miserable asshole or is silence not truly golden at this point? I don’t have kids, don’t live in a big city anymore or any other commonly noisy contributors, but I am still very irritable about the volume level of many things. If a person is talking while the TV is on, sometimes it’s like I’m going to have a Tourette’s-like outburst and scream – something has to be turned down immediately. When listening to music, I can go for a while, but after about ten songs, I audibly will say something like ‘Okay Jesus, that’s enough’, which will feel bipolar when I was just dancing like a fool 30 seconds prior. I’ve reached my limit! My body just has a visceral reaction to the decibel levels of people, places and situations now. I CANNOT imagine being at a loud club anymore; well, I can, but the tequila would need to be flowing in consistent rotation for me to enjoy myself.

Nameless: I know this a classic one, but it must be addressed. It’s kind of ironic for me to have this problem age aside because my good friends know and I don’t want to brag (as I’m about to), but I can remember anyone and everyone’s birthday, address and random tidbits about them. You tell me your mother’s cousin’s birthday is October 17^th and, even though I have no connection to this person, I’ll remember that shit. I’ve been called on to provide said information many times, but a name? Whew, good luck. I might be scapegoating this one with age though because in my college days, I had to learn many an acquaintance’s name five times before it stuck, but I was also in a deep sea of vodka. Regardless, I will remember your face and your life story, but your name? Clearly not leaving an impression on me. I was referring to someone as Cheryl whose name was Val for a few years before someone enlightened me. She was being kind, but not helpful, lady! You’re contributing to my mental decline.

Back in the Day: This is a gift and a curse of getting older. Everything, from TV to music to places and anything in between will make you feel your age. You’re sitting there thinking ‘Yeah, this good, but it was so much better BACK THEN’. Even something like Jersey Shore, which is awful now, was better when it first began. We’re at a point now where the words ‘back in my day’ are so close to being uttered. It’s frightening. I am up on all the new music, but I have a 90s YouTube mix on standby with classics from Nirvana, Spice Girls (girl power, baby!), Mobb Deep and the like. Who could rap all of Coolio’s ‘Gangsta’s Paradise’ at age 6? This guy – not necessarily something to be proud of. I occasionally throw on a couple episodes of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air and Hey Arnold! They are classics and as they say, true classics never die. We will become immersed in these visuals and sounds because they are sources of comfort, feel good and bring us back to simpler times, but damn… you’re also sitting there thinking, ‘Wow, I am getting older’.

Me, Myself & I: Not so much of a comical factor of getting older, but self-care is something many of us have begun to take more seriously with age. Even though it feels like some eye-roll worthy shit you see on Instagram or see YouTube ads for, self-care comes in every shape and form imaginable. It’s not like I had no concept of this when I was 18, but none of us took care of ourselves like we should have. I was mainlining bottles of Smirnoff mixed with Hawaiian Punch (only the real ones know), chain-smoking cigarettes and eating a lot of Taco Bell when I was 19. These days, I make the time to look after my mental and physical well-being. Whether that is doing something simple as remembering to floss and wash my face every day or something that could have more mental benefits like meditation, yoga and therapy, self-care comes in many forms. Self-care is beyond that though. It’s staying your ass home on a Saturday when some friends are getting together because you want to be a blob on the couch. It’s going for a walk in nature by yourself and gaining your center again. It’s so many things.

Pleasant Surprises: Somewhat on the same wave as enjoying your own time and the things you do to make yourself feel good is now enjoying activities that you once would have scoffed at. The farmer’s market? SOLD. Give me that Hibiscus juice and fresh bags of apples. A trip to Home Goods or Target for a bunch of unnecessary purchases? Swipe that credit card. Going to an apple orchard? Basic white girl here and ready for my thirst trap in the pumpkin patch. Who knew? When I was younger, if it didn’t involve a bar, a beach or an overrated, crowded and expensive event, why bother? Now though, I enjoy things that are simpler, more useful sometimes and don’t require a cover charge. I’ve been in a Barnes & Noble, browsing some potential new books with my $3 Starbucks cookie in hand, and have not felt such modest pleasure. How times change.

Getting older. It’s an inevitability if you’re so lucky, but I still have mixed feelings on it. My mind being a bit more seasoned is great, but my body turning on me in unexpected ways is just plain rude. They say the most complicated relationship you have is with yourself and this is truly the ultimate betrayal, but now I’m being dramatic.

I’m really banking on yoga and general stretching to get me through the next few decades though because my hips need to act a fool on the dancefloor. It keeps me young!