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The Real GOOD Loser, A Story That Could…
Chapter Twenty-Four: Fight P.A.I.N.
“Good morning aviators…this is your captain speaking.”
—from the film Top Gun: Maverick
*
“The best revenge is massive success.” That’s what the framed poster of Frank Sinatra hanging on my closet door in my bedroom reads. I won it at a G.A.A.M.H.A. charity event a while back.
Life continues to teach me lessons at the most appropriate times it seems. After my last day yesterday, I got home and went for a walk. I was listening to that audiobook The Heart of Buddha’s Teaching again when I heard: “Revenge is an unwholesome nutriment, the intention to help others is a healthy nutriment.”
Sirena called yesterday to see how I was doing, kind of, and was being somewhat supportive of my plan to give my story another shot. But her telling me to be “realistic” and having me promise “no surprises” had me doubting myself again. She believed in this dream of my story once, and while she doesn’t much anymore, I don’t think I needed reminding of that—Or maybe I did?
Councilor John told me I won the lottery when she left me. Like many things he said, I hated hearing it at the time. As I set out to write this story however, I’m starting to think maybe he was right.
“For there to be a hero, we need a villain.”
Entertainment has fed us this idea forever. Until I can maybe change what we find entertaining, it’s the parameters of this reality in which I exist. And so, my story will need a true antagonist—a true villain. That is role, I realized yesterday, Sirena has been playing admirably.
Another reason for Sirena’s call yesterday was to tell me that her and her boyfriend have purchased a racehorse; she said she wanted to tell me before I heard about it from someone else. I had gotten wind of this last week but knew better than to ask her about it…or maybe I just didn’t want to. She called it an “investment” yesterday as this boyfriend knows stuff about horses I guess.
After dumping that one on me, she quickly told she wants to sign our son up to play in this AAU travel basketball league. Telling her I’m finding watching the boys play sports mentally unhealthy for me right now, she got defensive and took it as an attack on her signing him up for this league. “This isn’t about you,” she said, “it’s about him!”
In that moment I debated telling her I’ve been feeling super depressed lately but didn’t want to throw up any alarms. I wasn’t planning to fight her about signing our son up for this league as I see it as one way she’s at least spending some of that house money on him. The truth is I know why she’s signing him up for this league better than she does. I’ve seen how she believes her own lies at this point though and know to just be quiet.
I know this boyfriend of Sirena’s actually. He’s a decent guy from what I know and has kids of his own my son seems to really like. Beneath all the frustration I feel about all this, I’m lucky. Obviously a part of me wonders how long Sirena and I would have lasted playing house with all that money she has now, but everything that has happened is for the best…and in many ways I prayed for this.
Before going to bed last night, I expressed some of my frustrations again in my journal. “If I do somehow make this story work and become a massive success,” I wrote, “I’ll still help her financially despite everything that’s happened.”
Lily would never understand that. No one would. That’s why I write thoughts like those in my journal. It lets me continue to be my delusional self without people in the real world hating on me for it.
Sirena has taken a lot from me, being with her had me questioning my morals at first, then my sanity and everything I ever thought to be true later. It’s not all her fault, but she’s a big reason for my lack of self-confidence today. But I wanted to write this story to help people back then and I decided yesterday not to let her take that away from me too.
“If everything needed to happen for me to make this work, and I don’t include her in my future success, then what was the point?” I asked myself in my journal. “Revenge. That’s what. And revenge is unwholesome nutriment.”
I must write this story in a way I protect myself however; and beat Sirena if she chooses to fight me in court over our son. She’s forced my hand at this point. She doesn’t need to lose necessarily though; grow and learn maybe but not lose. I’m hoping to use her and my relationship to teach people the difference between revenge and redemption in my story—maybe that alone deserves compensation.
Ruminating on all this last night, I found myself giggling at the thought of giving her money someday to invest in another racehorse. “With only one stipulation,” I’d say to her and her boyfriend, “You guys have to name it FakeLips.” My imagination had this horse of theirs winning a race with the voice of that guy from Shawshank Redemption announcing: “And it’s FakeLips by a nose!”
Sirena did not defend me against labels that made my life difficult and has used them against me to get what she wants. But she’s also pushed me to feel emotions in a way that has made me more understanding of what we humans are capable of; both good and bad. For that Sirena has helped me become me.
It’s human nature though for our son to emulate behavior that might provide him the life he desires. Will he see his mother’s tendency to act selfishly and attack those who question or disagree with her aggressively as a way to get that? Or will he see my more passive, calculated, and patient approach succeed and emulate that instead?
I’m not completely delusional…or a fool. I know what actions and behaviors tend to win today. I however must continue to force feed myself its delusions or I’m likely live the rest of my life as a resentful victim.
“There are seeds of many beings inside of us,” that Buddhism book says, “What we become is the result of the seeds we water.”
Writing this story won’t be easy. To keep myself organized I bought a nice journal to write things down I might want to include in it somewhere. Inspired by painful thoughts Sirena stirred up yesterday, I wrote a quote from the book Ready Player Two in its front cover:
To win the videogame of life, you just have to try to make the experience of being forced to play it as pleasant as possible, for yourself, and for all of the other players you encounter on your journey.
“These wings are amazing.”
Driving through my hometown of Leominster, Nel’s words spoken from the seat behind me disrupt my thoughts. Glancing in my rear-view mirror I see him looking at me with a mouth full of food. “I’m serious J-Man,” he adds, “they’re doing a little dance right down my throat.”
Despite our many differences, seeing Nel grin at me and make that goofy movement with his shoulders—in what I perceive to be an imitation of his food dancing down his throat—is a gentle reminder of how alike even he and I can be at times.
I had promised to buy my students lunch today and am making good on my word. The plan was to bring them to Lance’s American Grille—a staple of my hometown—but arriving there we found it closed. The sign on the door said: “Sorry, short staffed.”
This pandemic continues to stir up rage everywhere. Finding people to work is just one of the many unfortunate effects it’s had. Fights on airplanes and in classrooms have become a regular thing as of late; all of it videotaped on phones and shown to us on the news and on social media. For someone like me desperately trying to stay positive…it’s all very disheartening.
Finding Lance’s closed, I told them I’d take them to Il Camino or GazBar or The West End Diner; as there is no shortage of places to eat in my hometown. Lauryn however suggested we order food and just drive around, and so we’ve since stopped at Papous Pizza, Roasted Peppers, and lastly Super Wings for Nel. Driving past Paisanos now—home of my aunt Debby’s famous Chet’s sausage—I feel guilty for not bringing them any of our business today.
Even before this pandemic, I wondered how all these food places would survive. With some of them closing now because of it, I think to know what we’ll blame—The Government, obviously.
I wrote about this in that new journal of mine after kicking off this exciting year of being unemployed by getting a tax form in the mail. I emptied an old retirement account last year and now must worry if I withheld enough in taxes and how much my tax preparer may charge to deal with the headache. Just opening that tax statement gave me a small panic attack…my mind swelled and my hands literally shook.
“Government sends us tax forms and asks for money from people like me who don’t have enough.” —I vented in my journal— “The rich don’t send tax forms. Our money just flows to them naturally at this point. With the obscene amount they have already, and the monopoly they are creating from residual income thanks to the internet, they’ll have everything eventually.”
If I make this story work maybe one day I’ll speak to people about how I feel about all this. Until then I’ll have to keep venting in my journals:
We have plenty to keep us distracted these days. Constant threats of governments shutdowns and impeachment hearings… Mounting infrastructure concerns… Yelling matches everywhere. My first job in finance introduced me to estate planning—an entire industry dedicated to helping those that have the most keep as much as possible. As a free country we are allowed to have our fantasies, but the lines of wealth have been drawn for the most part. Until something happens on a global scale this tax game only stokes resentments. In the meantime, the future of humanity relies on the decency and altruism of individuals. That’s a scary proposal but there are people out there that give me hope. Warren Buffet talks about tax issues a lot and Melinda Gates and Mckenzie Scott have been giving away billions lately. Seeing how their ex-husbands are ripped for their philanthropic endeavors speaks to the difficult task these people face.
I want to believe that good people will step up and lead us into a brighter future when the opportunity presents itself. Maybe I’m just being my idealistic and delusional self…but what choice do I have? The Government we love to hate will run out of money eventually.
At that point who will we the people blame? —Those getting handouts and wasteful government spending…DER!
Outside it is extremely cold today. But here in my little car these students and I are not concerned by the weather; nor these troublesome thoughts of mine.
“Nel,” I say looking at him through my rear-view mirror, “What’s up with calling me ‘J-Man’?”
From the passenger seat beside me Lauryn speaks for Nel. “It’s our nickname for you,” she says. “You started as our teacher, then you became our friend, now you’re like family…we can’t be calling you Mr. J anymore.”
I thought Nel was calling me this name because of the J-Squad sticker decals my brother had made for me to give them on Christmas. Turning to look at Lauryn, I find what she says uncharacteristically sweet and can’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable again.
“Where are we?” From the back seat Pras says this sounding amazed.
“We’re here,” I reply pulling into the driveway of a large house sitting upon a hill; a mansion in Pras’s eyes.
I don’t have my boys today and made plans for us to hang out at this friend’s house who has a pool table in his basement. This super successful friend of mine bought this house because it was built on the hill he and I used to hang out on as kids. All that success and he still dreams of being a kid again…I can’t help but find funny.
In historical literature many important lessons are taught on top of mountains. The mountain is symbolical; as it represents great feats taking hard work and dedication. Secretly, I hope these students look back on this day as meaning something more if I’m successful with this story I am to write.
“Before we go inside,” I say unbuckling myself, “I want to tell you a secret.” I pause, turn in my seat, and then lock eyes with Pras. “The adults in your life have no clue what they’re doing.”
Pras’s face lights up at my words. “You’re the best Mr. J,” he says offering me a fist bump.
Adults have always hated this line, and kids have always loved it. Like thousands of teachers before me, I use it to create a bond between us…right before telling them the truth.
“None of you know what you’re doing either Pras,” I say; interrupting his thoughts of superiority with my fist. “Someday your children’s children will study our mistakes and start putting this world back together. The secret is to learn to listen to them better than we listen to you.”
Given my troublesome past there are many things I could warn these kids about. I could talk to them like a confident weatherman preparing them for some disastrous storm. If they question me I could justify each warning I offer them by muttering two simple words: It Happens.
As a storyteller, I rely on these two words often, but I’m no weatherman and so I try not to act like one to them.
“A lot of us adults are preparing you to survive in this scary world Pras,” I say. “Just look at this house…”
My students and I look at the house outside: white cameras are attached at each corner of its brown brick façade; a fancy black fence surrounds the property; and an American flag flies in the sky high above us.
“We lock our doors and video tape everything today,” —I offer these students my thoughts— “to protect ourselves we put up fences and take endless precautions to feel safe. With phones in our hands 24/7 now, getting away with anything feels impossible, but we live in a time of unmatched paranoia and fear. All of it just doesn’t add up to me—”
Stopping myself from overtalking, I take a moment to think…
As a father I’ve seen my children act like sponges. They have plenty of people telling them to be safe today, which is why I try to teach them; and anyone else that might want to listen to me, to be more understanding. And see the lack of kindness towards ourselves and others as the greatest threat to humanity in the long run.
Looking at these students I consider offering them examples of the warnings they hear from us adults. Every trauma we have heard about or lived through ourselves. Every crises we know of or have seen happen on a screen or read about. Validating everything we say to them with those two simple words: It Happens.
“There are good reasons for the warnings we adults offer you guys,” I say to the sponges looking at me now. “But I’m seeing our scars becoming yours and fear our dreams will become yours too: dead. That’s just my opinion of course—” I say raising my hands to prevent any verbal attacks. “What I really need to tell you guys though is I think I figured out how to make my story work…But there’s a catch.”
“And the catch is?” Lauryn says impatiently as I pause for dramatic effect.
Looking directly at Lauryn I tell her what this catch is. “One of you will have to die,” I say.
A moment of stillness follows my words. I had planned this conversation in my mind and purposely try to play it up a bit. A hand shoots into the air before an eager voice breaks the silence. “I’ll do it,” the voice says. “Can I be the one who dies?”
Smiling that wonderful smile that we’ve wrestled out of her over the last five months together, Candace volunteers. “Of course you can,” I reply. “Candace—You’re going to die…I promise you’ll be remembered.”
I did not anticipate my students so eagerly accepting this news of one of them having to die for my story work. Putting my explanations away, I reach beside my seat to grab the folders I brought for them. In each folder is the last article for our class and the first draft to this Finale to my story I’ve written.
“I have to work on putting the pieces of the story together,” I say handing them the folders, “but the ending will be important, and I hope you might tell me if it sounds too crazy.”
“You’re crazy is why we love you Mr. J,” Lauryn says.
Lauryn’s comment makes me feel somewhat uncomfortable yet again. I sit quiet and watch all of them open their folders and focus their eyes on the image of The Octagon of P.A.I.N. and see curiosity begin its tickle.
“Guys—” I interrupt their focus, “I don’t want you reading them now. Leave them in the car and let’s go inside. I’m nervous and don’t want it ruining our day.”
“Oh stop,” Candace says, “you know we’re gonna like it.”
“I’m serious,” I say flatly, “I don’t want you to.”
“Fine,” Candace replies closing her folder, “Everything you write is amazing though…you really shouldn’t worry.”
“This might be different,” I say honestly. “And just so you know the ending is likely to change. Like life…it’s a work in progress.”
I say this with a smile on my face but a knot in my stomach. I know why I’m nervous but right now these students have no clue. They’ve seen me do some crazy things to keep them entertained this year, but this will bring it to the next level.
Changing the world can wait though. There are too many lows in life not to enjoy the highs, I like to say, and so right now its best we enjoy this time together.
We all leave the car and head inside….
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Article Title: Fight P.A.I.N.
Dated: Saturday, January 23, 2021
“Everybody said it wasn’t possible…Everybody never saw this coming.”
— from the song Thrones by Ivan B
In 2016 I was reading a book titled Altruism by Matthieu Ricard when I accidentally burnt my house down. Altruism means the selfless concern for the well-being of others. Finding that book wet and dirty in my basement after the fire, I had highlighted the following line in:
“Observing Western society, I was forced to conclude that the ‘wise’ were no longer the main objects of admiration, but the famous, rich, or powerful people had taken their place.”
Knowing me now, can you perhaps see why this line from that book might have spoken to me?
Everyone is being called the G.O.A.T. in this or that today. And “I’m him” or “I’m her” or “I’m IT” has become a fun thing to say. When actions and behaviors don’t match principles or morals, I think our current reality is what you get; where this quote about the objects of our admiration could not be truer. The words “worshiping false idols” would most certainly apply for those looking to point fingers.
I know some people living in this reality are happy, but more and more are becoming angry. And we can assume even happy people will be finding it harder and harder to endure this anger. The protests. The shouting. The insults. Much of this anger is understandable if not agreeable. People want more. More respect. More appreciation. More recognition…More money.
But does protest lead to progress or does protest stall progress?
In class I used that as a warm-up question with you once. That day I argued that more of anything—”accept maybe water and silence”—rarely provides lasting peace. I went on to say that a person could get paid double what they make and in three years be just as unhappy if they don’t enjoy what they’re doing.
Does what I say still annoy you Nel?
People are frustrated and many are calling for a revolution in the name of this or that. As your teacher however, I’d warn that a revolution is run on the premise that breaking a system will fix our problems and that we cannot save this world by destroying it. Rather we must evolve our current system into something better—something for everyone: we must give this world hope and let it heal.
“Easier said than done,” a loving student like Lauryn might tell me. “You dumbass!”
Prior to that fire I had this idea of using entertainment to give birth to this hope my dumbass self just mentioned. As my students, you somewhat know how I feel about entertainment, but allow me to quickly remind you here.
Much of humanity is incapable of distinguishing reality from fiction. For those that can, few comprehend the effect entertainment is having on our collective subconscious: our human nature is being distorted by the vast amounts of entertainment we are consuming and providing oxygen to this angry and hate-filled reality of ours.
I read another book recently titled Out of Our Minds by Felipe Fernandez-Armesto that said ideas are the starting point of everything else in history and that sometimes ideas take a long time to get out of heads and into the world. That spoke to me as I have not yet given up on this idea of using entertainment to transform our reality for the better.
It’s not just books that have spoken to me over the years but shows and movies as well. One of those movies is Step Brothers; it’s funny and inappropriate and me and my boys love it. At the end of that movie the father is telling those brothers that as a kid he wanted to be a dinosaur, but that life “crushed him into normal”.
Let me use that line to ask you this: What is “normal” today?
Is it “normal” to be a heartless, selfish jerk? … Is it “normal” to be scared of people? … Is it “normal” to live in fear and isolation? … Is it “normal” for a good person to be hiding today?
When I first got the idea of using entertainment to transform reality, I drew an image. I then shared that image with my new friend I met at that detox facility (Billy I called him in my article to you). Sharing with him my plan to write a book he told me that it took his sister two years to get published and advised patience.
Believing my story would change the world, that wasn’t advice I much listened to at the time—and it would cost me…dearly.
That good friend of mine died on August 8th, 2016; two months after I accidently lit my house on fire. I thought I’d have more time to make this world a better place for a good and kind person like my friend. He played a role in this world though and will not be forgotten if I can help it.
I dedicate the rest of this story to him and every other person we’ve lost on this journey towards Social Recovery….
An image of The Octagon Of P.A.I.N. has the words Doubt, Anger, Worry & Shame, Anxiety, Depression, Hate, Guilt & Regret, and Fear written on each side of it. Arrows point from one side to the next in a clockwise rotation connecting these words. P.A.I.N. represents the acronym: Personal Anguish Introduced (by life) Naturally. Below the octagon reads: “Social Recovery 101”
“What goes inside the octagon?”
When I first showed my friend this Octagon of P.A.I.N. he asked me this question. It was a good one. And a very important one. I’ll answer that question soon enough, but first I need to try and explain what this Octagon of P.A.I.N. represents.
I have one great enemy in life: Doubt.
This doubt applies to everything. Myself. People. The World. The Future. When this one emotion enters my mind it begins a cycle. A cycle that leads to anger and worry and shame and anxiety and depression and hate. Doubt, I believe, is the root cause of all of it. Resulting in feelings of guilt and regret and fear that I constantly struggle with.
I’ve been a loyal and dedicated hunter of distractions to deal with this doubt. But have found the removal of things is what helps most. Unfortunately—as an addict—I super suck at the removal of things. And so, I have continued to be a perfectly patient consumer of potential happiness, rather than a purposeful pursuer of it.
I play with words here so that maybe you’ll remember and be better than me, for I was never truly patient. Instead, I was constantly trying to trick myself into happiness, rather than working towards creating it inside myself—Will you maybe remember that one?
We all care to some degree. Or want to care somewhat. About ourselves. About other people. About The World. About The Future.
The battle to stay positive becomes too much though and so eventually our hearts turn cold. When that happens “I don’t give a f” becomes the way in which many of us survive. Thank you Lauryn for the word that describes how so many of us feel.
“Empathy without love and compassion leads to burnout.”
I read this in that Altruism book as well. Words can be confusing and so I imagine you having a hard time differentiating between empathy and compassion like I do. I can’t say I’m correct, but I think empathy means feeling bad for someone suffering, where compassion adds the extra element of taking the time to understanda person’s suffering.
We can only see so much bad before we become desensitized to it. This, coupled with the fact most of us feel like a victim in some way today, has created this sad reality of ours in my opinion…where many people have lost the ability to feel bad for others’ suffering.
I think we have a hard time feeling bad for others because we have seen so much bad and at the same time felt so much bad ourselves. Collectively…we are burnt out.
The only way to fight this, in my opinion, is to let people see good winning finally. Collectively, we must throw good in people’s faces. We must have ourselves a “GOOD FIGHT!” (My mind imagines a food fight but good being throw at each other instead of food. You get it I hope?)
“The most valuable economic resource at our disposal is trust in the future.”
— from the book Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari
Inside that octagon I wanted to place a word that would bring people hope for the future. The word I would use needed to create that trust this quote mentions. It needed to be a word that would unite us all in caring again—About ourselves— About other people—About the World—About The Future.
Would the word Faith work?
My councilor at the halfway house told me I “intellectualize” too much. It’s my gift and my curse I think.
Martin Luther King said faith is taking the first step without knowing where the staircase leads. I’ve taken a lot of steps in faith to get here and for that I am grateful. Faith however, for a dreamer like me, can be a scary word. While it helps for a time, there comes a point when dreamers like me need to see things happen.
Doubt, for a dreamer like me, turns that staircase of faith into a slippery slope with despair and hopelessness at its base.
Faith without reward—for a dreamer and wannabe doer like me—leads to feelings of anger and resentment. People telling me to have faith has made me feel hopeless and alone at times; like I had no control over who or what I was supposed to be in this life. Its why I’ve come to believe that faith and religion alone will not fix this world.
I needed put a word inside that Octagon that could unite anyone and everyone in creating a future brighter than this reality. A new word. With new meaning. One that could add to that which brings a person purpose and not destroy it any way. It needed to be a word that could represent a common desire in us all.
“We humans know our past, even when we’re ashamed of it.”
—from Star Trek, The Next Generation’s pilot episode.
I reference Star Trek here because I was watching a Star Trek movie when I first had the idea of using entertainment to bring us together somehow. If you recall, I wrote in an article to you: “Star Trek needs an origin story”.
Could we place labels aside and come together to become the one generation that changed the world? … Could we make this humanities “all hope is lost” moment and become that origin story ourselves?
The energy of thought is powerful, and we’ve forgotten how to use it. As we engage on this journey together, let us harness that power of our collective thought once more.
Could a single word change the future? … Let us find out together shall we.
—3—
—2—
—1—
“ACTION!”
WEEKLY QUESTION FOR REFLECTION:
“The ones who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who do.” As your last entry in your journal for this class, please reflect on how this quote I have next to the mirror in my bedroom makes you feel. Fill a page!
The Teacher’s Playlist:
Fly featuring Rihanna with Nicki Minaj
“I came to win.”
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(End of Chapter 24)
Recovery High School 