Listen to chapter audio by clicking play above… Listen and Read at the same time to improve your “focusing fortitude” :0) Pictures related to chapter can be found by scrolling to bottom of this page. Enjoy the ride…
The Real GOOD Loser, A Story That Could…
Chapter 7: Doubt
“I can only show you the door, you’re the one that has to walk through it.”
— from the film The Matrix
We’ve already made in through our first month of this Covid disrupted school year. It is now the first Friday in October. I promised these four faces looking back at me from my computer that we’d spend a day listening to and discussing music. That day is today.
I’ve also agreed to let Lauryn pick a few songs for my weekly articles going forward. As my selections continue to be “old” according to her.
“My mind is a home I’m trapped in and its lonely inside this mansion.”
We started class today by listening to a song titled Mansion by the rap artist NF. After making them write a reflection in their journals regarding this lyric from that song, I let them share their song selections.
They were required to come to class today with a song that shared a positive message from a list of artists I provided them with. Nel started us off today by having me play a song titled WAP by Cardi B. I knew this song would be inappropriate by the reactions when Nel announced his choice but played it anyway. Realizing just how inappropriate the song was, I quickly stopped playing it.
In my mind this class would be fun but with Nel’s little joke I immediately felt myself get frustrated. These students thought it was funny of course but them not taking this assignment seriously bothered me more than I let on.
That’s why teaching is so hard. You try and do something new like this, but boundaries are always pushed. It’s just easier being the strict teacher no one likes most of the time.
The only inspiring song I’ve heard today was Candace’s. Candace is my fourth student in this class and the complete opposite of Pras; my “active participator”. Candace had me play the song Rise Up by Andra Day. When I was playing her song I felt she looked uncomfortable to me and mentally scolded myself as that was that not how I hoped to get this shy student more involved in my class.
My plan to have these students share inspiring songs was lost for the most part. All we’ve done today is listen to music they find entertaining for one reason or another. Right now, I’m playing the song titled Slippin’ by the rap artist DMX.
I had put this artist on that list I provided them with for a reason. When I asked Pras to pick a song from this artist he didn’t know any and so I suggested this one remembering it from when I was in high school. Hearing it play now—with these faces looking back at me—I understand why Candace felt uncomfortable earlier; as the words in the song have me feeling exposed.
“Interesting little fact for all of you,” I say before letting the song completely finish. “I lived with DMX for a month…We lived in a sober house together in New Hampshire back in 2017.”
“For real?” Nel says. “Are you friends with him. Like, can we meet him?”
I smile at Nel’s excitement but must disappoint him with the truth. “He barely came out of his room Nel. When he did someone in the house always had his ear, so I left him alone. All I said was thanks to him the night he bought me and the guys in the house pizza…”
I knew my students would get a kick out of this; that’s why I planned this little announcement for today’s class. Personally, I don’t find myself in awe of celebrities anymore. These students on screen don’t need to know that though and so I let them ask me their questions and only think about why that is.
This world is full of people who were once famous for something they did in the past. I’m sure plenty of people love the attention this brings, but I’m just as sure a lot don’t. Today I watch people on screen and wonder how the roles they play for us affect them in the real world.
Just because these people made it once doesn’t mean they made it forever. Most of them are struggling to earn a living and are probably just as unsatisfied with this world as the rest of us—They probably feel used and manipulated too.
“That’s a reflection of your own personal issues J.”
Words from a friend who called me and my thoughts “delusional” dance around in my head as I think on this. Of course, that friend is right to a degree, but seeing DMX back then fed these views of mine. He looked so tired of this world…just like me.
Keeping these thoughts to myself, I continue my conversation with Nel. “He was in a fight to get his life back together Nel. Who was I to him anyway? I just knew you guys would get a kick out of it. I did sneak a picture of him though.”
In the picture I show them DMX is wearing a solid red hoody and pair of red shoes to match. In the background one of the councilors who worked at the house can be seen in the distance. My students and I talk about this for a few minutes, and I tell them a bit more about the time I spent at that house.
Before I know it, class is almost over. Attempting to end class, I ask the faces on screen a question: “Is there anything else we should talk about before we end for the week?”
“Yeah—” Pras jumps at the question, “Big Orange tested positive for Covid Mr. J… You heard the news right?”
“Yes,” I answer with an uninspiring nod, “I did hear that Pras.”
President Donald Trump has tested positive for Covid. Knowing Pras is only saying this so he can tell us how he feels about it, I prepare myself.
“He’s faking!” Pras says looking disgusted. “It’s a plan to get himself re-elected. He’ll recover then make some executive order for another Stimulus Deal. Everyone’s gonna get another check with his name on it and he’ll buy himself another four years in office… watch Mr. J.”
Pras has just done it, he’s gone political, and I immediately regret not ending this class early as I’d rather listen to that WAP song than talk about any of this.
Pras asked me if I was a Trump supporter our second week together. “I’m a dreamer Pras,” I said, “As a dad I just wish my boys didn’t live in a world where the way he talks to people is acceptable.”
This is a line I’ve perfected. Pras took it to mean I was not a supporter. Which is kind of the goal of this carefully constructed response I use on people I guess.
I live in two worlds. When I do construction I’m surrounded by Trump supporters. When I’m teaching it’s the complete opposite. I try to avoid the conversation all together but when asked if I’m a fan of his I use this line about myself being a dreamer.
Pointing to my kids and the way Mr. Trump talks, supporters and non-supporters will usually just nod in agreement. I then shut my mouth and let the other person tell me whatever they want.
Avoiding political talk is like playing an unwinnable game of dodgeball today. Billy Maddison style dodgeball—the real kind—before we got soft and play whatever they play in school now. This game is tearing families and friends apart everywhere and at this moment it’s Sunny-In-Philadelphia-clear-to-me that this game is not about to end anytime soon.
An advantage of teaching remotely is I don’t have to listen to teachers talk about this political stuff. While I’m not interested in this upcoming election, Nel and Pras very much are. I watch them act like soldiers for their respective parties on my computer screen and want nothing more than to jump out of my own skin.
Listening to Nel attack Pras for what he’s just said about Mr. Trump, I take a mental break from the flicking contest happening on the computer screen in front of me to reflect on my own personal background with this P-word I’ve learned to despise…Politics.
In 2008, I found myself working as a Customer Service Rep at a phone center for Fidelity Investments. I had left that sales job with John Hancock and remember being rather content working for this company for a short time.
In the midst of the financial crises that year, the Republicans ran John McCain against the Democrat nominee Barack Obama. With the pretty young and loud Alaskan, Sarah Palin as McCain’s running mate, that election made for some good Saturday Night Live skits but provided no real competition. I remember thinking McCain was too old to be a reputable candidate that year. Preparing for this Trump verse Biden election I find that funny now.
While the country rejoiced at Obama’s win that year—and what it meant historically—I couldn’t help but think Obama was walking himself into the lion’s den at the time.
To me the Republicans knew someone would be blamed for the fallout from the financial crisis that year and didn’t want a Republican in office when it happened. I thought they lost that election on purpose. I’ve since learned that how I interpret reality isn’t always accurate and so maybe I was wrong…but that’s still how I felt.
In college I studied economic theories that stopped seeming applicable that year. Today I’d like to study the economics of wealth and hate if I could: When money is printed and sucked up more and more by the few at the very top, will the ones in the middle fight amongst themselves and blame the majority for their ill fate?
That year I spent hours on the phone trying to explain option calls to novice traders and FDIC Insurance to scared seniors. Sprinkled in were calls from those who just wanted to vent and talk and blame and sometimes cry. The housing crises was the obvious culprit to what happened that year, but I got to hear a lot of different theories on the root cause of it all.
Some said it all started when we came off the gold standard in the early 1970’s. With crypto currencies today I wonder if those people are like me and wondering if money is even real at this point. Others blamed the Democrat Bill Clinton’s deregulation of the banking industry in the nineties. Listening to that argument I remembered how me and my dad felt about building regulations that made construction unnecessarily difficult for us.
Did conditioning us to hate that word regulations in one way make it easy to convince us it wasn’t needed elsewhere?
Others pointed their fingers to the Republican Ronald Reagan’s Trickle-Down-Economic theories of the early eighties. The one’s I’m certain my dad somehow connects to saving his construction company back when he was first starting out.
“That was a scary time—I thought I was gonna lose everything.” My dad’s told me stories of that time. I was only just born then.
In all the years I worked construction with my dad growing up, I never remembered him talking politics. Or even at all caring about it. I hear him talk now though.
He’s a Trump supporter. Not one to attach a flag to his pickup truck but a “closet supporter” I’d label him: a hardworking man frustrated with where this country is headed. My dad, like Nel, thinks Trump will “shake things up”. Which often forces my dad to turn a blind eye to some of this president’s behavior.
The other day I heard my dad call Trump “childish”. On tv, Trump was mocking someone again and my dad used that word childish to rationalize Trump’s mean and bullying behavior.
Donald Trump deflects blame and shows no remorse for his actions while pointing fingers and words at others. That’s why I simply can’t be a vocal supporter. Some people that voted for him might act that way in their private lives, but that’s not at all my dad.
My dad’s fulltime job is head of maintenance at a prison now. A job he took because of the Government benefits it receives after surfing a rafter down from a second story roof we were framing and shattering his wrist. He’s also an immigrant from Canada who only recently became an official U.S. citizen. I can’t help but see the irony in all that given Trump’s stance on immigration and government spending.
I have become somewhat of an expert at not engaging in political talk today but growing up enjoyed talking politics with my grandfather. He was a dedicated and rewarded employee of General Electric during a different time; before corporate pensions plans were replaced with 401k matching plans that gave us individuals the freedom—and obligation—of planning our financial futures.
“Do you realize how much Trump has done for this country Pras? Show him some respect. I hope you’re right—I hope he does find a way to win. We need him now more than ever.”
Trying to remember how it felt to care, big words and big opinions continue to divide Nel and Pras on my computer screen.
“Even if he has to lie and cheat to get re-elected Nel? You realize people call him the anti-Christ right?”
“Yeah,” Nel replies, “and some people call him the second coming. Trump’s a doer Pras. He gets shit done. He represents everything that makes this the greatest country in the world.”
I watch Pras make another disgusted face at Nel’s comment. “Whatever you say Nel,” he says coldly. “Just know you’re the reason people hate this country.”
I think we might all be rats in some experiment—I think the invention of social media might have been a cage created for us.
Listening to these students argue has me thinking paranoid thoughts again.
What happens when a society trusts no one yet believes everything? … What happens when people don’t know what to believe so they believe nothing instead? … I think us rats are discovering the answers to these questions right now.
My utter disdain of politics could be traced back to a very specific date eight years after that 2008 financial crash: The day of the Republican Primary debate on Thursday, March 3rd, 2016.
That night I had stayed up late to hear the governor of Ohio John Kasich speak. He wasn’t well known but I remember liking him for some reason. Unfortunately, that was the night I remember the circus coming to town.
On television I watched Donald Trump, Marco Rubio, and Ted Cruz discuss hand sizes with one another; a perceived testament of their manhood. John Kasich stood in the background soon to be forgotten.
Two months after that debate was when I accidentally burnt my house down. My family was concerned I was losing my grip on reality then as I insisted on finishing that story I was working on. To appease them, I checked myself into a hospital for a mental health check. In the waiting room of that hospital, I watched one patient spit on another in an argument over Donald Trump.
That was June of 2016. Shortly after that I gave up my delusions of being a voice of reason in a world that seemed content on falling apart. That’s when I stopped caring about politics altogether, but four years later I find myself here…listening to Nel and Pras.
“You two girls need to chill the f*** out.” —I watch Lauryn interject herself into their conversation— “You’re getting yourselves all horny over stuff you don’t understand. We’re all pawns and you two act like you have it all figured out.”
“I know more than you think!” Nel snaps. “I’m not asleep. Or another cog in the machine…I’m no sheep—believe that.”
The hostility between this couple on screen keeps Pras quiet and I see Candace looking as uncomfortable as I feel. A break in the action makes it clear it is now my turn to step into the ring.
“Alright guys,” I say to the momentary silence. “How about we listen to a song to chill out a bit before we all say goodbye for the weekend.”
Hoping a cheap laugh might get these students on screen to chill out, I press a button on my phone and play that song Nel had me play earlier.
Luckily…it works.
*
Article Title: P.A.I.N. through Doubt
Dated: Friday, October 2nd, 2020
“With the advent of reason, everything seemed open to doubt, and each succeeding philosopher offered solutions differing from his (or her) predecessor.”
— from the book The Passion of the Western Mind by Richard Tarnas
I struggle with a crippling sense of insecurity and avoid conflict and controversy in my life as much as possible.
That might surprise you as people tell me I appear confident. The councilor at my halfway said I was suffering from a “crises of self-confidence” and said it was temporary. But I’ve felt this way for a quarter of my life at this point and so I’m not really sure I believe him…I want to.
Rather than get upset over why I am this way today, I try to embrace it and have faith it will someday serve a purpose in my life. Why do I mention this here?
Last week I told you I’d be sending that article, Life’s Puzzle, to that recovery blog page. After sending it I got an email back from the blog’s administrator: “Please reduce wordcount to twelve-hundred words as stipulated in submission requirements and resubmit.” That’s what the email I got back said.
Allow me to interpret what I took that to mean: “Your submission was overly wordy sir, please cut unnecessary fluff and resubmit—you appear to be trying too hard sir.”
Reading something I’ve written after a day or two always has me questioning myself. Reading that article again the whole thing sounded stupid to me. I found it overly wordy and to me it did appear I was acting like a “try hard”. Did I use that term correctly Nel?
I have since not resubmitted that article. “This grant requires I submit something,” I told myself in frustration, “it’s on them if they don’t use it.”
NEWS FLASH: I am an addict distracted by desire, often wanting more of everything without often putting in the work.
I’ve been told that patience is key to recovering from any and all traumas. That’s why I listed patience as a key to success in that article. I was using things I heard to sound smart. I probably shouldn’t have talked about faith in that article either as I struggle with that word myself.
Do you maybe see what I mean about that insecurity thing?
There’s this show I like called Peaky Blinders. You should watch it. If you do use subtitles, it helps, trust me.
In an episode of the show its main character, Tommy Shelby, is asked, “What made you angry?” Sucking on a cigarette in that scene, Tommy replies coolly. “Slowness,” he says, “In anything. I wanted to have everything already.”
Can you maybe see why that line spoke to me after that NEWS FLASH I just shared?
Recovery is full of difficult moments that aren’t overcome with a strong work ethic or with an unbreakable sense of dedication. Being patient isn’t fun and the real world waiting for us after living in any mind altered state—whatever that may be—is not all sunshine and rainbows. I’m not here telling you anything you didn’t know already.
With that said, let me now repeat some more words that were used on me once: “This world beats up its most beautiful people the most, learn to take it as a compliment.”
I only semi-recently discovered a talent for writing. With no proper schooling in the art, I’ve read and listened to some books for guidance. One I’m finding helpful is a book titled Stein on Writing. In it the author offers this gem: “Tell me and I’ll forget. Show me and you’ll involve me. Involvement is the first step towards understanding.”
I like that quote because I think each of us are born a certain way and transform into the people we become because of the events we are involved in or live through and the stories we are told. I, for example, was told a story about how I would like a career in finance because I was good with numbers. I went to college for it, graduated, worked in the field, and only then realized that finance was not for me.
What stories have made you the person you are today?
That Life’s Puzzle article was supposed to be about struggle and how we all experience it. Here I’ll talk to you about another thing we all experience: Doubt.
Last week’s article was philosophical in nature. As such discussions always leave me feeling inadequate, I’m going to instead tell you a story here. This story is about a boy, a man, and a woman….
The boy in my story grew up doubting his life would ever surmount to anything. As a child he believed there was nothing special about him. In the early years of his life, the one emotion many believe is the purpose for living was non-existent. This boy did not know love. He did not know what it felt to be loved or even what it was to love. In a world we say is magical, this boy felt P.A.I.N.—Personal Anguish Introduced (by life) Naturally.
The man in my story became like a king in early childhood. People all over the world admired him and his rise to fame. Unfortunately, this man felt he was simply playing a character in someone else’s story. What he said was not how he felt and what he did was not often his choice. This man doubted people would ever respect him for who he really was. In a world so fake, this man felt P.A.I.N.
It doesn’t make sense yet, but both this boy and this man were brought to life by this woman. A woman with a dream. The world she lived in did not think kindly of those with dreams. People told her that even if she could write a book or make a movie, no one would understand a world that only existed in her mind. As others doubted her, this woman was forced over and over to doubt herself. In a world so real, this woman felt P.A.I.N.
The boy, the man, and the woman will forever be connected to one another. One without the other would have each of us living in a world much different than the one we are living in now. In order for us to have gotten here, each of these people had to experience P.A.I.N.
In their P.A.I.N. there was one common ingredient: DOUBT.
The boy in my story is Harry Potter. I think you know him. The man is Daniel Radcliffe. The actor who played Harry Potter. And the woman is J.K. Rowling. The creator of Harry Potter.
Living under the stairs, Harry Potter doubted anyone cared he existed. Living on top of the entertainment world, Daniel Radcliffe doubted anyone appreciated him for who he really was. Living on the brink of poverty, J.K. Rowling doubted anyone would ever respect the dreams she held in her mind.
The point of the story is to have you recognize that doubt is part of life. Many of us grow up learning certain things. We are told how things are and how things work. As a result, we expect certain things in life. When things do not seem to make sense with our pre-conceived beliefs, doubt creeps into our mind.
Some doubt themselves. Some doubt others. Some doubt EVERYTHING.
Doubt is ‘ever-present’ in our lives. That means it never goes away. Even at the end of our lives doubt may haunt us. “Will I be remembered?” … “Does anything come next?” … “What was the point of all this?”
The result of doubt can often lead to feelings of anger. We get frustrated with ourselves. With others. With the world. With life. With EVERYTHING.
If it is natural to doubt, it is natural to become angry. That is how the cycle works. Do you agree?
WEEKLY QUESTION FOR REFLECTION:
Do you believe there is a cyclical relationship between doubt and anger? In your journals, please use examples from your own life to justify your answer.
The Teacher’s Playlist:
Where is the love? By Black Eyed Pees
“I think the whole world is addicted to the drama.”
*
(End of Chapter 7)
*
Click here to continue to next chapter…
Recovery High School 