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Plot Twist!

Someone on Facebook recently suggested that when life hands us curveballs, we yell “Plot twist!” and adjust to the unexpected, often inconvenient scenarios that throw the days off course. Take it from someone whose OCD makes schedule changes seem like calamities, that’s good advice.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/xeBKOVK8eUg

In more recent years, I’ve gotten better at quickly adjusting when things don’t go as planned, though sometimes it still throws me into a foul mood.

When I was a kid, I’d throw epic tantrums if we went to the movies and the film we wanted to see was sold out. That’s typical childhood behavior, but it followed me to adulthood. I’d rage if a traffic jam threw off the timing of when I’d get from point A to B (I still hate that, but my reaction is more muted). If plans for a night out with friends or a quiet night at home suddenly changed, I’d sink into a depressive funk.

Thinking of these things as plot twists goes far in changing that kind of attitude for the better. There’s a certain fun to yelling “Plot twist!” It injects humor into the situation and calms the other people with you who are being equally inconvenienced.

During a recent camping trip with the family in Maine, the power went out while dinner was cooking on the camper stove. It was hot as hell and we suddenly had no AC to escape to. Erin yelled “Plot twist!” and we proceeded to make the dinner preparations that didn’t require electricity. It also led me to see humor in the fact that electricity had become a requirement on camping trips. To be fair, it wasn’t tent camping. We use campers that hook into such home comforts as water and sewer access, Wi-Fi and cable TV.

Yelling “Plot twist!” doesn’t always work, however. If you’re working and a deadline is hanging over you, it’s hard to find the amusement when your Internet access goes down. If there’s a death among family or friends, nothing is going to blunt the sadness.

But if it helps you through at least some of life’s unexpected turns, that’s more than you had before.

Plot twist!

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Most Days Are Like New England Weather

Last Friday started in a brutal fashion. I woke up more than an hour late after a lousy night’s sleep. As a result, I fell way behind with work. To top it all off, the kids had the day off and were making all kinds of noise.

Mood music:

[spotify:track:5H19HygtEjZJLdGtGdpSPR]

For the first two hours of the day, my mood was bleak. My head pounded, I felt disoriented and I was convinced my day was going to suck on every level.

Two hours later, I had caught the workload up to where it was supposed to be, the kids had settled into some activity, and I was sitting on a sun-kissed deck with my beloved, drinking a fresh cup of Starbucks she bought me on the way home from a doctor’s appointment.

The rest of the day was pretty pleasant. I even found a couple of hours to practice my guitar playing, using some nifty online lessons I found on YouTube.

Which brings me to the point of this post: If you’re having a shitty morning, don’t write off the rest of the day. Most days are like New England weather: Wait five minutes and it’ll change.

I used to let a couple of bad hours destroy the entire day. Truth be told, I still do sometimes, especially in the winter, when I’m more susceptible to mood swings because of the shorter windows of sunlight.

I wasted a lot of good life that way. I went on many addiction-fueled binges because of it.

Fortunately, I’m much better at catching myself in those downward moments. Friday was a good example of that.

It makes for a much better existence.

Sunset

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When Life Jerks You Around, Go To Au Bon Pain

Yesterday was one of those days that didn’t go according to plan. I took Duncan to Boston Children’s Hospital at Waltham to have his cast removed and wound up in Boston because of a scheduling glitch. Such things used to throw me into anxiety-fueled rages. Here’s what happened instead.

Mood music:

[spotify:track:1JFQyGHeNDAqUAubIAMiXI]

I got back in the car and thumbed the Rosary hanging off the directional stick next to the steering wheel. I turned on my Android Spotify app, plugged it into the car stereo and blasted some Van Halen and Black Label Society. Then we drove to Boston.

Duncan got his cast removed. We had lunch at Au Bon Pain in the hospital and went home. No tantrums. No anxiety-fueled craziness over the damage to the workday and the fact that we had to go into Boston. Not too many years ago, driving in downtown Boston terrified me. All those one-way streets. The traffic, especially when the Red Sox play. I couldn’t handle it.

In more recent years — as was the case yesterday — I don’t freak out over these curve balls. They still piss me off, to be sure. But I can readjust and move on without incident. It’s a gift you can’t fully appreciate unless you’ve lived under the spell of fear, anger and anxiety.

Rewind to 23 years ago. It was registration day at North Shore Community College, where I was enrolled for the fall semester. I was just out of high school and angry at the world for a variety of reasons. I had been working long hours in my father’s warehouse in Saugus and was rubbed raw. I was frustrated because a girl I liked was getting cold feet about the idea of hooking up with a loose cannon like me. It didn’t take much to trigger a temper tantrum.

That day I was rattled hard by the long lines of college registration. I wasn’t expecting it and was full of fear that I wouldn’t get the classes I needed. Not that it really mattered, since my major was liberal arts.

Two hours in, I realized I had to give them a check for the courses I was taking. I had no money and panicked. They allowed me to drive to Saugus to get a check from my father. I was in full road rage mode on the drive there and back, riding up other people’s rear bumpers and keeping one foot on the break and one on the gas.

By day’s end, I was in supernova mode and breathing into a bag between the chain of cigarettes I was smoking.

That kind of rage was a daily thing for a time. And it always struck in moments when life didn’t go according to plan.

I’m glad I’m older and slower. I’m glad I found the tools to keep such things from happening: that renewed appreciation for rock ‘n’ roll, a little prayer and the brain-balancing effects of Prozac and Wellbutrin. It’s also summertime. My brain functions better this time of year.

I was able to put on a calm face for my son, and he was calm as a result. And despite the scheduling mess, the cast came off as planned.

Cast Removal