Anthony Bourdain

I am reminded of the adage, which I quote approximately: “what does it profit you to gain the world, if you lose your soul?”

Anthony Bourdain had the perfect life.  He could set the terms of his shows, go wherever he wanted, get paid big money to eat fantastic meals.  He had a beautiful girlfriend, and was getting headlines for how fit he was at his age.

In the end, none of those blessings were weightier than the pain he carried with him.

For my part, I GET in some ways how this happens.

Certainly, I understand the feeling that causes people to take their own lives.  I have felt it.  And if you have never felt it, then it is impossible to explain.  It is a pain, a grey pain, which expands to the horizon.  Every fiber and particle in your being hurts.  You cannot escape, you cannot go anywhere, you cannot any longer distract yourself, you can’t hold on, and suicide feels like the most wonderful, soothing way to just make the pain stop.

Now, in my particular case, holding on when there is no hope is kind of what I do.  It is a character trait I thankfully developed long ago.  I keep going when I can’t keep going, and it is a habit.  And things are getting better.  I am feeling feelings I have not felt in many years, feelings I had forgotten were possible.

But it is likely confusing to many how someone who outwardly has everything can feel such despair.  It is not complicated, I don’t think.

When dealing with Developmental Trauma, with primitive feelings you felt and then forgot before you were 5 years old or so–feelings of betrayal, of chronic fear, of cruelty, of profound sadness and isolation–you are dealing with people who early on learned to lie to themselves about who they were, and what they wanted.  Their own lies led to lies to everyone around them.  They developed a personality, a persona, a presence which “worked” socially.  Maybe people even liked them and found them charismatic, as with Bourdain.

[For my part, I have always felt a darkness in Bourdain, in what little of his shows I watched.  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but if I’m honest, I felt a presence of evil in his vicinity.]

But this lie, this living of a lie, this inserting yourself into the social world in a way which prevents honest communication, and honest connection (they say the man who found Bourdain was his “good friend”), is tiring.  You get tired, oh so tired, and the older you get, the more it wears on you, the heavier it feels.  Add to this work stress, physical illness, and it’s not hard to go into a feeling of being overwhelmed.  Add, finally, Robin Williams strangling himself with a belt, Kate Spade strangling herself with a scarf, and shit, all it takes is a couple minutes, one dyin’ and a buryin’. 

[Take a moment and listen to this short song.  Miller killed himself with alcohol (as I understand it), but as Kurt Vonnegut said of smoking, it’s a somewhat sociably acceptable form of suicide.  If this song makes you cry, that is the point.  It reminds us all of how sad life can sometimes be.  But crying makes you stronger, and sadness is perhaps the only means to deep and reliable joy.  Logically, if sadness is a part of life, and joy comes from embracing all of life, then one must go through sadness.]

In my own case, I have always been able to see the first whiffs of clouds on the horizon.  I see things before other people do.  I saw where my life was going literally in my teens, and have been working hard since then to figure it all out.  That’s what I do all day, every day.  I have work to do, and I do it reasonably well, but my mind is always on the big picture.

And it’s not just life itself, but we have so many unknowns in this world.  I was laying in bed worrying about AI last night.  It may be a Godsend.  It may kill us all.  As with most new things, the truth will likely be in the middle somewhere.  It does seem obvious, though, and this is what bothers me, that most of the people who are most obsessed with this sort of thing are the least socially connected, least emotionally intelligent among us.  They are, in other words, moral imbeciles.

My three Big Principles are a good survival code.  I have discussed them many times, but to repeat, they are 1) Reject Self Pity; 2) Persevere in living, and eventually in what makes you happy and emotionally fulfilled; 3) Be curious.  The world is filled with countless marvels, and so are you.  It’s all quite interesting.  Every moment and every street corner has things you have never seen before.  Be like a child chasing a bird or a kitten chasing yarn.

Neurofeedback, if you can afford it or get it funded by your insurance, is in my view a worthwhile investment for most ailments, and certainly Developmental Trauma.

Beyond that, I can’t honestly say I know of any palliatives which are reliable.  Booze isn’t bad, but you reach a point where it hurts as much as it helps.  I haven’t done anti-depressants, but they are likely good for some.

For those of us who are really hurting, my principles are what I would submit are the best hope.  Will yourself into survival.  Your will will grow, and over time, if you start to open up to your feelings, the pain will ease.  Kum Nye is a fantastic practice, and I am growing to like Jill Miller’s “Roll Model”.

Say a prayer for the dead, and thank God for your life.  There is sadness in this world, heartache and pain, but there are also beauty, gratitude, wonderful human beings, the joy of growth, and a God which fills it all.

Here is something from Tecumseh which I read most days: