Too Many Troubles

As I’ve written previously, both before and after the resurrection of this blog (the before’s being infinitely more difficult to read, as they were completely deleted), I very much enjoy the writings of Chez over at Deus Ex Malcontent.

Ironically enough, it turns out that he used to work with my sister when they both worked at a television station here in Miami in the late 1990′s.

Despite the anemic number of people – mainly consisting of friends and family – even aware of this site, I still hesitate to write about him or my sister publicly. I hesitate to discuss Chez because I don’t really know him personally; my sister, because she has since moved on to the “private sector” where she would, I think, shudder at the idea of even the mention of her name in a public forum (as it were). However, Chez has disclosed more about himself on his blog than I would know about him otherwise, and my sister held herself out to the public as an on-air personality for more years than I can recall (which, in her defense, is not saying much). Moreover, I just read Chez’s latest commentary (here) and wanted to respond, if not only to him directly, then also so I may justify to myself at a later time some of my own actions and commentary.

By chance, I was recently discussing with my sister my latest mid-life crisis. We spoke of my abandonment of the practice of law and my attempt to move on to others things, this blog being one of them. I happened to bring up Chez’s blog as an inspiration of both the type of outlet in which I wanted to refine my skills, and of the style of writing I eventually hope to achieve. At this point, my sister told me she used to work with Chez here in Florida, while I was still living in California. She remembers him fondly and told me he was a good guy. After a brief moment of thought, she also mentioned that he reminded her of me because, she said, like me, he is very kind, very funny, but also has a bit of a dark side. Melancholy. She also said that he is an outstanding producer, at which point the conversation inevitably turned to an ex-girlfriend of mine.

Anywho, I raise this issue because of some things that Chez discussed in his blog today. The kid has recently experience several life-changing events, of which the removal of a brain tumor was the most prominent. Of this he writes:

“At the core of it though, is the tumor, and its lasting effect on who I am – on my sense-of-self. It’s a disconcerting feeling beyond description to simply not feel like the person you’ve been for so long. It’s also a feeling that can’t be put into words in any meaningful way. How do I feel? I can’t explain it; I just don’t feel like me.”

I know the feeling. I hope to write one day how I felt when I fell 60 feet rock climbing, and when the trauma-induced epileptic seizures started soon thereafter. And I really hope, although I doubt it, that I can describe the absolute horror of when I look into a mirror immediately following a seizure and recognize absolutely nothing – nothing – of the total stranger staring me down. I hesitate, however, to discuss the wretched anguish of those 10 insufferably long minutes it takes until I can remember who and what and where I am again.

My seizures are now fully controlled. I am medicated. I have been for the past 15 years and probably will be for the remainder of my days. But I too am not the same as I used to be. I take 600 milligrams of a powerful neuro-inhibitor per day. If someone tells you that doesn’t detrimentally effect your cognitive brain functions – fuck them.

My memory and recall is slower than it used to be, my speech is slower than it used to be, I require much more sleep than I used to – I too am not the same. So the fuck what? I still made it through law school (a shitty law school, but whatever). There were also bouts of depression and angst. It takes time, but you work through it. And yes, counseling helped too.

Chez also worries about the effect his recent tribulations may have had on his writing:

“I promised long ago that this little experiment of mine would never become so self-indulgent as to be an ongoing description of what was happening to me right now, at this moment. To put it succinctly, this blog would never be a ‘blog,’ in the traditional sense. I wanted to write about universal themes and voice my admittedly worthless opinion on a host of issues and, aside from a few rare occasions when I’ve felt the absolute need to wear my heart on my virtual sleeve, I hope I’ve done just that. Anything else wouldn’t make for any sort of good reading by anyone – not even myself.”

Although I understand his thought process, I disagree with Chez’s analysis in this regard.

Like him, I also don’t particularly care for writing about my own personal traumas. But they’re all I’ve got. And if nothing else, they’re distinctly mine. Moreover, I know for a fact there will be at least one person who will want to read this dribble 50 years from now, even if nobody else does. Just ask Joseph Conrad.

Of perhaps even greater import, however, is that you never know who’s reading and with whom your words may resonate. An “ongoing description of what is happening to you right now” may very well be, and typically is, a universal theme unto itself.