Last spring, after the breakup of a significant long-term relationship, and during the most anxiety-producing days surrounding the decision of my “interim-position” status, I developed extreme muscular tension in my legs which had some other, rather scary, side effects. Ever since then, I have taken a, more-or-less, physical-therapy approach to the problem and, after long months, was making progress: almost able to see light at the end of the tunnel by December. However, over the holidays, I had somewhat a reversal of fortune, and I seem to be more symptomatic these days, rather than less.

I’ve approached this as primarily a muscular issue, with anxiety as the root cause. I've done many, many sessions of deep-tissue massage and ultrasound in order to attempt to settle my leg muscles down. Some of the early work, with the deepest massage treatments, produced rather dramatic emotional responses on my part. The work on my body would result in waves of feelings of sadness and loss, for example, and I would end up crying in the office before I was able to gather myself together and get dressed to leave. As I started to get better, less symptomatic, I stopped having such responses. But, yesterday, again, as we worked and probed and pressure-pointed spots on my lower body, I was once more similarly affected. Like a tsunami, feelings of extreme sadness rapidly, and without warning, totally engulfed me.

Although there are a number of possible explanations for what's going on (including neurological), I suspect my body is sending me some kind of message that, to date, I've not totally deciphered. But, my working theory is that the overwhelming loss, and potential for loss, that created last spring’s anxiety led my body to react the way it did, and that the depth of the physical pain — memorized at the cell level — is reflective of the severity of the emotional wounding. Further, when my physical being is poked and prodded in just such a manner, there’s a direct link to the emotional scar tissue. The physical part of the experience yesterday was quite painful, of course. But, the emotional aspect, for me, was profound. And, today, twenty-four hours later, I'm still processing and asking “what is this all about?”

Which part of my being do I heal first: my body or my soul? How do I go about doing that?

I don’t know what it is about me, but I seem to attract women into my life who apparently think of me as “little-boy-like” ... perhaps, want me to be more little-boy-like? (Or, maybe it’s something else that’s going on?)

For example, a very important person in my life right now gave me a teddy bear and some Scooby-Doo bubble bath for Christmas this year. Then, back when Katrina and I were together, I remember she gave me, at various times, a Mr. Potato Head set, some Play-Doh, Miracle Bubbles (with wand), and a couple of children’s books: The Velveteen Rabbit and The Runaway Bunny.

What is this about, do you suppose? It sure has had me a-wonderin’. Not only do I feel grown up, at least most of the time, I’m starting to feel, well, old sometimes too. How is it, at age 58, I score a teddy bear for Christmas?

Of course, as I have this on my mind, I go to the bookshelf and find The Velveteen Rabbit. Truthfully, until Katrina gave it to me (on Valentine’s Day 1998), I had never heard of it, though I’ve come to learn that most of the rest of the world has. Since then, I admit, I have come to rather adore this book. Although it’s definitely a little-kid’s story, written at a sixth-grade reading level, it has a message about life and living that is very wise indeed.

After all, it’s a tale of personal growth and transformation, answering the question about how we change. How does one become REAL, is the question…

Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real. It doesn’t happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real, you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand. (p. 13)

Doesn’t that just about say it all?!

I first became acquainted with the writings of Nick Hornby in 2000 after seeing High Fidelity, the movie version of his first novel. John Cusack played the lead character, Rob Gordon, who, at least in the movie version, began by asking:

What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?

Well, as you might suspect, the story line revolves around the “heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss” of relationships. Rob spends a great deal of time in a self-discovery mode, visiting one former girlfriend after another to learn about what went wrong in his previous relationships. Although the Rob character is fairly self-absorbed, obsessing over such things as Top 5 Lists and the Perfect Compilation Tape (they didn’t have iPod playlists six years ago), I found him a rather endearing character as he bumbled his way through his romantic adventures. I was pretty taken with the movie (seeing it a couple of times in the theatre) and went ahead and bought the novel later, something I rarely, rarely do.

Hugh Grant starred in the movie version of About A Boy, as you might recall, and, as far as I know, Horby’s third novel How To Be Good has not (yet) been made into a film. A fourth novel, A Long Way Down, was published in 2005, and I just finished reading it.

The story in A Long Way Down is told from the perspectives of the four primary characters, one after the other throughout the entire book. There are not really four different “voices,” though, as Hornby seems to make little effort to provide identifiable narrative styles for the various players, just obviously unique views of the world.

The setting for A Long Way Down is London, and the main characters are Martin (a former morning television personality, down on his luck after sleeping with a 15-year old, going to prison, and losing his marriage and kids in the resulting scandal); Maureen (a middle-aged single female, whose only son is severely disabled and unable to take care of himself; she is the primary caregiver and has no other life); Jess (a confused and rebellious young female, daughter of a highly-placed British politician); and JJ (a young male American rock musician, whose band has just broken up). Not knowing one another, they, coincidentally, find themselves on the roof of a tall building on New Year’s Eve, all there with suicidal intent.

Well, with all those people up there at the same time, their individual plans obviously don’t work out. They collectively talk themselves down from the roof, making up the excuse that they need to find and confront Jess’ former boyfriend.

These four really aren’t very endearing characters, as was (John Cusack’s) Rob Gordon in High Fidelity, or (Hugh Grant’s) Will Freeman in About a Boy. Still, Hornby’s ability to spin a tale, I guess, is the reason I kept reading about these lonely losers. (Each was rather like an individual train-wreck about to happen, reminiscent of the title character in that new NBC series, “My Name is Earl.”) After their time together on that almost-fateful New Year’s Eve, they keep in touch, go on a vacation together, and generally support one another through each other’s hard times, even though, as portrayed, these folks were individuals I personally would not seek out as friends.

However, in the final analysis, they are their own support group. And even though they, well, suck at it, the story suggests that somehow it seems to work to have others in your life that care, if only a little bit, or are only moderately adept at demonstrating it. The group gave themselves ninety days to hang together, to see where their lives were at the end of that time. As the book ends, at the conclusion of that time period, none of them is in the same emotional space. Their lives are not “resolved,” but things are noticeably different.

I never have been suicidal myself. But, I have certainly had my down times, when I’ve needed someone to talk to, someone to support me. Sometimes, rarely, there isn’t anybody around to talk to. Usually, though, I’ve been able to find somebody to support me through difficult periods.

I have a new, young friend in need of support right now. She is experiencing the loss of a significant other, is scared about the prospects ahead, and feeling lonely. She has asked for my support, and I am delighted to provide what I can. We are all, ultimately, alone in this existence, but we don’t need to face everything alone. We need each other. We need to find each other. And, we should ask for help when we need it.

Our struggles, and our pain, are what make us human. They are what make us strong. We are all incredibly resilient, and this is how we grow. No matter what our level of pain, at some point, we are able to mend our broken wings and fly again. 

Soundtrack Suggestion

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

(“Blackbird” - Lennon/McCartney)

Man, woman, birth, death, infinity. What is this business of living, anyway? Isn’t this existence just a total mystery? If things are totally clear to you, congratulations, for I have to admit, I’m sure having a heckfire of a time figuring things out.

Why didn’t I die during my drinking days? How did I make it through the Vietnam era without suffering a bloody, painful death in a jungle a million miles away from home? How did I luck out with a mere kidney stone, having been diagnosed with bladder cancer by two doctors one night in the emergency room? How have I made it through my depressing times of relationship and job loss?

I may be living in a state of grace, but I am still having problems figuring out why I am here. Is life totally about love and work? Is that what we’re all really here for? Do those things sum up our existence? Are they reasons enough to be born?

Surely, for love, I suspect that is the case. I fell in love with and, in my heart, “adopted” three young people (my significant-other’s kids) during the course of a years-long relationship that I have referred to in other essays here. One of those kids, two years ago, on January 9, 2004, had a child of her own. I had an incredible “first” (for me) of holding this infant at the age of six hours. This was a totally-wonderful experience, and something, at age 56, I was not ever expecting I’d have the opportunity to do. I was enchanted, enthralled, delighted, thrilled, and even a little scared. I was immediately drawn to this little one named Grace. Grace’s second birthday is coming up and I’ll not be there, now being separated from her grandmother for some months now—and no longer a part of the family circle.

I miss Grace, her mom, her uncles, and her grandmother. Even absent from them, I love them all, and send them light and love across the miles from where I reside here in Portland.

Birth. Life. Living. Loving.

Grace.

Amazing.