Tag Archives: humorous posts

Jan14

Because You Can’t Make this Shit Up. #Customer #Service #humor #insurance

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I went to my gynecologist for her annual spelunking appointment and she wrote me a new prescription today to help with (men, you can come back in a paragraph if you want) my hormone-induced perimenopausal symptoms such as hot flashes, bloating which mimics the USS Dallas (as seen in “Hunt for the Red October”) spontaneous melodrama, night sweats, in-the-basement reason forgetfulness, brain fog, insomnia, inability to make sandwiches, and laundry neglect (that last one’s a gimme).

The medication is relatively new, so I’m relatively freaked out about it. There isn’t too much data on it. It’s a super low-dosage cousin of some rather storied and potent shit out there, so I’m not sure I’m dedicated to the cause yet. I mean, what’s (sorry men, I lied, come back in another paragraph) wrong with some really heavy cramps, ennui, intense bleeding, possible anemia (isn’t the harpie look in this year?), totally inconsistent period arrival and the occasional urge for solace by digging a hole to China under a crescent moon with my bite guard?

Other than Flonase and antibiotics for the occasional lapse of taking my Flonase, I don’t take many prescriptions. I like to go the herbal route. The supplement route. The what-the-fuck-is-in-this?, but-at-least-it’s-not-linked-to-inducing-suicidal-thoughts route. It might not always be efficacious, but I also believe in the placebo effect.

So today, because of this new script, I called my insurance company to learn the ropes about costs and copays and deductibles. Before I got too deep into the details, my very helpful Aetna rep told me I needed to call CVS / CareMark whose wizards would know the answers to all my prescription-based questions.

This is how that call went…

CareMark: Thank you for calling CareMark, may I have the member ID?

Me: Hi, this is Molly Field. I’m calling to find out cost and copay details for a new prescription. The ID number is  1234567.

CareMark: Who do you work for? >slurp<

Me: Uh, myself. My kids. I don’t have a job that provides insurance. I’m a … yoga teacher…?

CareMark:  Are you Daniel?

Me: No. I’m me. I’m his —

CareMark: Why are you calling about Daniel? Are you calling on his behalf?

Me: No. I’m calling on my behalf. My name —

CareMark: Why do I have Daniel’s information then? >clichslurk<

Me: You asked me for the account number.

CareMark: Who is this?

Me: I’m his wife. He’s my husband. I’m calling on my own behalf for me about … me.

CareMark: What is your name and date of birth?

Me: (relieved: now we are getting somewhere.) My name is Molly Field my date of birth is ___ ___ 1829.

CareMark: Ok. Why are you calling? >slurk<

Me: sigh. To get cost information on our policy and how much a new prescription will cost… When I dropped it —

CareMark: What is your account number?

Me: I just gave it to you and it seemed to confuse —

CareMark: Account number please. >skicch< I can’t look up anything without that… Do I have your consent…

Me: Yes. You have my consent. The account number will give you … it’s 1234567.

CareMark: Am I speaking to the spouse?

Me: Yes. On my own behalf about medication prescribed for me.

CareMark: How may I assist you?

Me: Ok. I’d like to know cost and copay information about a medication called STOPSHITTYSYMPTOMS.

CareMark: That’s the 7.5mg dosage, correct? >skicch.<

Me: (after memorizing the promotional crate it came home in, complete with two obscured magnets to keep it closed, what the what is this? a Michael Kors bag?? Now I know where the money is being spent by this pharma) Yes, 7.5.

CareMark: A 90-daysupplyis$97. Untilyoumeetyourdeductible. >skich.<

Me: What is the deductible?

CareMark: Thereareseveraldeductiblelevelsonyourplan. >slurp.< Oneis25anotheris35andthefamilyis65. Per year. >clitch<

Me: (what the fuck is that sound?) Ok. So what’s the copay?

CareMark: What are you talking about? What copay?  >shlink<

Me: (irked and confused and super curious about what’s in her mouth) Ok. You just said … if I’m following you, why would I pay the full $97 for the 90-day supply seeing as how I’d met at least one of the deductibles you mentioned? I mean, even at the 65, I’d only need to pay, what… $32 and so then, what would the copay be after that?

CareMark: You >sklurk< wouldn’t have met the deductible.

Me: But you said the deductible was three levels. You said “25 and 35 and 65.” Those are the figures you gave me. So if I pay $97 for a 90-day supply, I would have already met the deductible. Yes?

CareMark: >slurp< No. Nowhere near the deductible.

Me: (slamming face with desk, wondering about the need for this medication when all I think we need to do is rid ourselves of idiots at call centers) But … that’s close to $400. A three-refill 90-day script, which is what I was given, will cost … $388, way beyond the deductible you quoted me. You just said, “25, 35 and 65 are the deductible levels…”

CareMark: (audible groan) >querlk< HUNDRED. TWENTY FIVE HUNDRED, THIRTY FIVE HUNDRED. SIXTY FIVE HUNDRED.  (you freaking idiot.) That’s your deDUCTible levels.

Me: (oh hell NO you didn’t…) HUNDRED?! As in Twenty-five hundred dollars for a deductible? Is THAT what you meant? (CareMark Mistress of the Dark is >sklerking< in the background…)

You said “twenty-five, thirty-five and sixty-five” and didn’t say “hundred” after any of those figures. So naturally, I thought you were talking about an entirely different denomination… >pausing to listen< Um, (with obvious bitter disgust) are you eating something? Because I can’t unders–

CareMark: >pause< No. I am not eating any — I am SUCKING on a COUGH DROP. I am SICK today. >SLERK SKECK CRUNCH<

Me: >pause.< Oh. I ask if you’re eating something because I’m having a hard time understanding you. You aren’t speaking clearly. And, that you left out of that deductible information by a factor of one-hundred.

So, then, yes, doing the math that I understand now, I would not meet the deductible. That’s fine. It is what it is.

Now, since CareMark has been our prescription program provider for several years, can you tell me what my family’s history was last year on what we paid for prescriptions so I can get a sense of whether or not we even came close to meeting those deductibles? You know, so I can get a ballpark on —

CareMark Viper from Hell: You want a WHAT? >sklerk< From WHEN?

Me: (fuck you; you work for me) I’d like to know if you can provide me with a … report, yes, a report of what we paid last year for prescriptions so that I can understand how that shaped up… I know some systems won’t give access to data so maybe you need to transfer me (please o please o please transfer me…), but I’m just looking for a snapshot, if you will, of how much we paid —

CareMark succubus: I don’t know what YOU’RE talking >slurk< about, but I can give >sklech< a COST REPORT (you moron) of your prescriptions from last year. I can send it to you …

Me: (incredulous) Mmmmmm Nnnnnooooo. That won’t be necessary; you don’t need to print it out and mail it to me, I’m just looking for a quick-and-dirty here (still trying to be niccccce….) so that I can .. can you just look at it and tell me?

(envisioning bats pipping and fluttering about her head; her face slack, with green from the reflecting the screen) Is there a screen you can click on? Do you have that (carefully choosing my words) ca-pa-bil-i-ty on your sys-tem that will show you that his-tor-ic in-for-ma-tion so you can just tell me the cost report from reading it on your screen? (SMILING a TOOTHY GRIN but with narrowed eyes.) 

CareMark demon: (likely hunched over one of those ancient monolithic IBM 8600 desktop computers we used to call “machines” back in the 90s) You didn’t meet it. >slerk< You didn’t reach your deductible last year.

Me: (oddly proud that we didn’t need that insurance but pissed we paid for coverage for it) Oh. Did we come close? I mean, would have this addition of this STOPSHITTYSYMPTOMS last year, hypothetically of course, would it achieved the deductible? (at this point, i’m not sure of why i’m asking about any of this; something about this woman made me want to pick at her though…)

CareMark: No. >sklerrrrk<

Me: Ok. Well, that’s that. (sincerely) Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.

CLICK.

Me: hello?

She hung up on me. Not a “Thank you for calling CareMark and giving me a job to do and keeping my wages coming in…” or “Is there anything else I can do for you today?” or, I don’t know, “Good bye.”

I think she needs the medicine more than I do.

So then I called Aetna and told them what happened to me. They took a full report.

You’re allowed to be sick. You’re allowed to sklerk on a lozenge. But you’re not allowed to be viperous. You’re just not.

Here’s the final thing: I’m a big girl, I’m healthy, I’m happy and living a very wonderful and stable life. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that this puff adder would somehow meet up on that phone line with someone who’s really in need. Maybe a mother of an infant with a blood infection; a father who’s son is in rehab, y’know: PEOPLE. I was concerned that she would affect a person who’s rattled, whose spouse just had a stroke, or who needs to know about his or her new health plan and that this agent would treat that rattled spouse or parent or patient so horribly that the day would be ruined. 

Truth be told, I thought of my father, who’s 84 now, and if he needed to call CareMark to ask about his prescription benefits. I thought about my mother-in-law, who’s 29, and considered her situation with that agent and I decided I couldn’t let it go. 

So I called CareMark later on and spoke with management. The manager I spoke with was mortified by Elvira’s behavior and grateful that I called back. 

CareMark redeemed itself to me on that second phone call. It turns out it’s not a “deductible,” it’s a Maximum Allowable Benefit (MAB), which is the exact opposite of a deductible. A deductible is threshold you must meet by paying into it, and  it would eventually reduce your out-of-pocket expenses as you go forward. When you reach your deductible, your costs go down. The MAB is an already established account, with funds already in it, that when you buy your medication, that sum is deducted. When you run out of the MAB, you pay more. It’s like a bet the insurance is taking, that you will try to meet. 

I don’t know how that rep has stayed employed.

Why am I in the basement and what am I looking for down here? Geez, I hope it’s not for the laundry.

Thank you.

Jun24

30 Days of Jung — Day 8: #Morality #Reason #Monkeymind

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I see this quote and I feel like shouting at dead Jung, “Hey, dead maverick psychologist: judge much?!”

Welcome to Day 8 of “30 Days of Jung,” my series, wherein (soon, I will start repeating myself, like now) I take a famous quote of Carl G. Jung‘s and try to make sense or refute or invert or disembowel it or where I turn into a heaping pile of mush because of it in 1,000 words or less.

If you don’t know who Jung is, he formulated the theories of introverted and extroverted personalities, the stages of individuation, the basis of the “Meyers-Briggs” personality (INFJ / ESFJ, etc.) tests. He’s the “father” of modern-day psychoanalysis. In short, he’s a badass. But he’s dead, so he can’t be with us today.

Here is today’s:

“The pendulum of the mind oscillates between sense and nonsense, not between right and wrong.”
― C.G. Jung

End the post at 1195. Please.

I feel like this quote swings between sense and nonsense.

I suppose though it’s up to me to determine if I’m going to include a quote but I’m not going to be arbitrary. I’m taking this stuff as it comes.

Ok. Context. Let’s make some stuff up: nonsense.

Sense and nonsense: news reports. They tell us lots of stuff, most of it completely immaterial to our daily lives. They mostly report on what has already happened. If you watch the news where I live it goes like this:

“A newborn baby was discovered in the lion’s den at the National Zoo today; it was speaking in tongues, no one knew what it was trying to say; the baby was unharmed but the lion was hidden in the corner whimpering and shaking; anyone with knowledge of this baby is asked to let the lion know that it was nothing personal.”

Or

“A fire broke out today in the cotton candy district; firefighters struggled for hours to get the blaze under control; the Department of Public Works expects the town to be sticky and smell bad through Memorial Day weekend dampening the spirits of many Revolutionary War re-enactors.”

Really? I’m being a bit totally smug about this, but there’s not much we can do with the news that the news reports. To me, that’s nonsense. To watch the news is nonsense. To me.

Recycling: I do it. I don’t waver between sense and nonsense or right and wrong on this. It makes sense to me do what I can to assist in the slowing of our planet’s eventual death. This is verging on political (nonsense) so I will stop (sense).

I was watching a Discovery Channel show, “North America” today and they had a ranking of the top 10 best places for natural wonders on the continent. The Sequoia National Park was in the top three I think. I see those big old trees and I get totally emotional. I can’t explain it and I don’t think I need to. They are majestic — absolutely humbling and they deserve every ounce of our respect. Is that nonsense? Is that sense? Is that right? Is that wrong? I don’t obsess over it, but I care. I move on. I have Cap’n Crunch to eat after all.

Another snapshot: our health. Do you think about your health? Maybe thinking is the issue; maybe what Jung is getting on to is that when we think we don’t really act; maybe that’s the sense versus nonsense he’s talking about.

I know that when I think about my health, I look at all of it: genetics, what I can and can’t do or stop, what I need to get going on again, and whether it will make me healthier or at least keep me from getting less healthy. Is that nonsense? It’s sensical, right? Up to a point. Eventually, if I just talk about it, as I eat an entire box of Cap’n Crunch at once and then complain that the Cap’n three-stripe yellow bits in the cereal are manifesting on my midsection and my skin is taking on that creepy yellow Fritos glow then eventually even I want to slap myself with a spatula. Yesterday I complained; today I got on the ergometer and humiliated myself. I’m out of shape. But not for long.

What about conflicts with people? We can think and think ourselves to death about the conflict or we can take action. So I’m thinking that the perpetual thinking (the pendulum) is the nonsense; in order to make sense of it we must follow up with action? So in terms of conflict: I can think about my role in it; my ability to continue the role in it or my ability to say no more and make a choice. Then that choice must be followed by action.

Does it mean I’m right if I choose one way over another? No, it just means I’ve reached my limitations about something and I need to change course.

See, this is where this quote jacks me up. I see where the pendulum swinging can be a real drag; so what I think he’s talking about here, but it wasn’t included in the quote because enough people thought like everyone else and didn’t include any context is that action is what makes the difference. It goes back (as far as I’m concerned anyway) to Day 5 when Jung said that we are what we do, not what we say we will do.

I don’t feel as though there’s much more I can do with this quote. I feel as though our minds are mostly within our control; we can choose to be sensical or nonsensical. I find the latter to be annoying at times, but completely necessary in order for us to rest, rewire and recharge. What do I consider to be nonsense? “30 Rock”; “Bruce Almighty” any classic, old Looney Tunes cartoon involving Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck and Sylvester; “Monty Python and the Quest for the Holy Grail”; “Tropic Thunder” a game of corn holes, a game of any kind. A run, a long run with my amazing dog who JUST THIS MOMENT stepped up to greet me with a wet nose on my forearm.

Murphy says it’s time to stop trying to make sense of this quote and I totally concur. The sky is partly cloudy today and it’s almost 80 degrees. Time for a walk. Time for some nonsense.

On a personal note, I hope you are enjoying this series. I do hope you’ll stick around because the next few quotes are HUM-DINGERS and naturally, I’ll be on vacation, so I’ll be “working” from the beaches of Canada. Yes, they have beaches in Canada. Maybe when I’m all done with it I can look back and see how I’ve changed some of my perceptions and if I still want to beat the crap out of poor Carl Jung.

Please comment! Argue with me! Tell me you like Chex cereal!

Thank you.

Jun23

30 Days of Jung — Day 7: #Loneliness #Community #Isolation #Relationships #Fear

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I’m not thrilled with this quote; it’s surprising to me how all the readers who came across this quote ended up being of similar minds to vault it to #7, but they did; sometimes there’s no account for intellect at Goodreads.

Welcome to Day 7 of “30 Days of Jung,” my series, wherein (soon, I will start repeating myself, like now) I take a famous quote of Carl G. Jung‘s and try to make sense or refute or invert or disembowel it or where I turn into a heaping pile of mush because of it in 1,000 words or less.

If you don’t know who Jung is, he formulated the theories of introverted and extroverted personalities, the stages of individuation, the basis of the “Meyers-Briggs” personality (INFJ / ESFJ, etc.) tests. He’s the “father” of modern-day psychoanalysis. In short, he’s a badass. But he’s dead, so he can’t be with us today.

Here is today’s:

“Loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible.”
― C.G. Jung

Ok, let’s end the count at 1,220.

I had this whole long thing dedicated to this quote; close to 1,000 words and then I got in the hot tub.

I don’t know what to do with this one, honest.

History is full of people who’d probably been better off staying feeling lonely and keeping their important views to themselves.

Hilter.

Stalin.

Charles Manson.

Name a really old pope here.

Marie Antoinette.

Assad.

Orville Reddenbacker.

I threw in that last one to make sure you were still with me.

The point is, with these quotes I’m so far like this: “Hmmm. Ok. Think about it. Agree with it. Disagree with it. Wrestle with it. Hate it. Invert it. Love it. Cap’n Crunch. Done.”

With this one I’m like this: “What?! Who gives a patoot? History is full of …. ”

Here’s why I am where I am: I can’t feel sorry for anyone who decides to keep their views –radically dangerous or fantastically amazing– to themselves.

Jesus.

Magellan.

Edison.

Pasteur.

Newton.

Galileo.

Orville Reddenbacker.

They might be radical. They might be unique, but if they’d kept their thoughts to themselves, we’d be lost.

But I don’t think these are the people Jung is talking about… I don’t think he means their kind of loneliness. Or did he?

What would Jung say today about loneliness in the age of the Internet where people with thoughts ranging from cat memes to bomb-building, or with interests ranging from child care to foot fetishes (and worse) can find one another and find community? Is it possible, even in a cat meme (I know, I’m always picking on the cat memes) community to feel isolated, lonely, as though a viewpoint would be inadmissible? Are you telling me “Can I has a Cheezbrger” has content imitations or editorial standards?

I don’t know. Maybe.

But I also suspect I’m taking the easy way out of this one. I’m veering toward the land of the “surface dwellers” as my husband likes to call them. It’s not that I think the concept of loneliness is absurd in this day and age; it’s the contrary. There are people, myself included, who have likely felt never more lonely than with the so-called advent of Facebook. Am I feeling sorry for myself? I don’t think so. I’m just being honest. But then I know where I’m safe: home.

So now it’s about safety: the lack of fear that comes from knowing that your thoughts are admissible.

Not so fast.

We all have thoughts that we consider errant or inadmissible. Sometimes we want to plow our massive SUV into the smug Prius driver who cut us off at the approach to the light. Push them all the way into the busy intersection ahead, watch the whites of their eco-friendly eyes widen with fear as they scream and you can hear them very well, even above the grinding moan of the Prius bumpers and brake pads and the guttural, throaty rev of your ozone-killing V8 because when their stupid little earth-saving car’s speed drops to less than 10 mph the engine goes silent…

No.

We don’t share those thoughts.

Or my own particular thoughts about cereals. Some people eat cereals other than Cap’n Crunch. I think they’re losers, but I don’t tell them that; and I don’t say it aloud. And the fact that I wrote about my thoughts about their pitiful breakfasts right here on the internet doesn’t matter. No one’s on the internet.

We don’t share those thoughts because they’re radical, snobby even, totally “inadmissible” and they make us feel disconnected. We feel judged before we even say anything. We judge ourselves before we even bother to share. We are our own worst enemies in this Jungian proposition. We assume, we guess, we suspect, we fear and thus: we become lonely. We isolate. Are our thoughts polarizing? Are they dangerous? Are they inventive and we fear we’ll be laughed at? Is the NSA watching? I don’t know. (If the NSA is reading this that makes three people.)

I think, again, all of this boils down to fear. A fear of sharing, a fear of communicating and a fear of reprisal. That fear is what creates the feeling of loneliness. And that sensation of loneliness occurs because we self-judge; we kick the proverbial sand with our massive legs in our own wimpy and pale faces.

That’s a crappy feeling. Having so much to say and feeling as though you can’t share it. It reminds me of crushes; the fear we have when we love someone and we are afraid to tell them. The fear we have when we disagree with someone but we don’t say it because we fear they will not like us anymore. The fear we have when we want to show how we’re really feeling, say what we want to say, but feel this oppressive, heavy, awful, stifling! sensation that tells us:

No one will:

understand you…

agree with you…

like you…

respect you…

talk to you…

If you say what’s on your mind.

If you say what you need to have heard.

If you say what you yearn to share.

I will admit that sometimes when I’m in a really crappy mood that the last thing I’ll want is to be around other people. I don’t think anyone will be able to relate to me, I don’t think I’m a pleasure to be around and I’d rather not tell someone they have parsley between their teeth if I don’t have to.

A mood is one thing. It passes.

An outlook on life, a sense of isolation based on a fear of sharing, however is something entirely different. Some people who are like this tend to brand themselves a “lone wolf” or some other label other than “afraid” that helps perpetuate and broaden the chasm between themselves and their community.

Some people can’t help it, they have autism or another social challenge. But I also suspect, outside of autism or its ilk, that most of lone wolf people consider something in themselves repellant. I also feel that a lot of these people, through their social disconnection, feel some semblance of empowerment regarding rebellion or anger toward the majority of the society in general which I find engenders a sense of victimization and further disconnect. It’s an odd question: does society repel these types of people or do these types of people repel society? Whatever the cause, humans are social creatures and we need to relate to one another.

I think of the title of Adam Sandler’s album of long ago, “They’re All Gonna Laugh At You!” and Stephen King’s book Carrie; what messages do our parents give us or what messages are we giving our children that can help build a stronger sense of self so that we aren’t afraid to share our thoughts?

Lonely is isolation, feeling left out, excluded, apart from the whole.

Alone feels more like a choice. “Leave me alone!” “I just want to be alone!” (I never say that at my house with three boys.)

But I think Jung is going after the emotional state of “loneliness” and the results of feeling as though you can’t communicate something to others because they might find it “wrong.”

So given the quote about having people about vs. holding things in like viewpoints that might be inadmissible, all this leaves me wondering about “loneliness” — is it an emotion? Or is it a condition? Or… is it a choice? I wonder.

Thank you.

Jun22

30 Days of Jung — Day 6: #Darkness #Self #Awareness #Hypocrisy

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For some reason, I want to leave my home, RIGHT NOW, drive to wherever Jung is buried, exhume this dude and scream at him. Then compose myself, promptly apologize, smooth over any wrinkles I might’ve made in his dead suit lapels and gently put him back.

Welcome to Day 6 of “30 Days of Jung,” my series, wherein (soon, I will start repeating myself, like now) I take a famous quote of Carl G. Jung‘s and try to make sense or refute or invert or disembowel it or where I turn into a heaping pile of mush because of it in 1,000 words or less.

If you don’t know who Jung is, he formulated the theories of introverted and extroverted personalities, the stages of individuation, the basis of the “Meyers-Briggs” personality (INFJ / ESFJ, etc.) tests. He’s the “father” of modern-day psychoanalysis. In short, he’s a badass. But he’s dead, so he can’t be with us today.

Here is today’s:

“Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people.”
― C.G. Jung

Really? So I am feeling a LOT like I was on Day 2 (Lisa Loopner day). You know, that whole “takes one to know one” theme. But today’s is actually more pointed, more intentional, more intense, more… dark. I’ll likely ruffle some family feathers in this post, but here’s me, “it’s nothing personal” and their reaction is not my responsibility; it’s theirs (day 2 as well).

Alright, let’s do this. Count: up to 1,265.

Darkness. Darth Vader: he knew it about himself and maxed it out and he imploded. Heart of Darkness: war, deep stuff and violent; this is irrefutable, craven darkness, in-your-face, hard-to-admit-about-ourselves stuff. Dracula: a metamorphosis after deceit. Screwed-up as all get-out, a little puerile (honestly! — biting?! talk about id issues!) but a great metaphor for how we can infect people with our obsessions and darknesses. Don Draper — there’s a dark dude. I’m gonna wax etymological on Don one of these days, I mean it’s full of potential: don and drape. I’ll be gender fair: Medusa, Lizzie Borden, Mommie Dearest.

I’m feeling oogey. I am reluctant to write about this quote because I have spent a lot of time in the darkness. I grew up witnessing and partaking in some crazy dysfunctional stuff and I was disappointed and terrified and lied to a lot as a child. I Work Very Hard these days to credit my past for whom I’ve become. (Jung would high-five me and you about that reframing.)

I prefer to talk about resilience, perseverance and the benefits of soul-crushing Hard Work of awareness and release about my childhood during my adulthood to make the little triumphs in my adulthood all the sweeter, once I allowed them. Those childhood disappointments made me industrious (which is good) and hard (which isn’t so great). Say I’d won the “Best Person Ever” award. My response, “Meh. It’s ok. You want it?”

When you grow up in a world where the people you were given to by God hide, deny, project, compartmentalize and rage through their issues, you see a darkness that at times can warp your brain and your outlook on life. I will release my memoir one day and people might say it’s not true; that it’s an angry vitriolic slight and slam at my parents; it won’t be. It’s not. It’s about growth and forgiveness. Take Running With Scissors; aspects of it are very close to my story. People talk about how it’s fiction; that no one treats their children that way or the way I remember being treated. But then there will be people who silently nod and they will know. They’re in touch with their own darknesses, and so we can relate. (HAY! I’m still on topic.)

But despite this quote, I’ve never been able to endure having darkness be the foundation upon which I can build my relationships. It’s unbearable for me. It has happened and it has FAILED MISERABLY. I always want out. Eventually, I want to go back to my (our, yours too) essence. I want to return to the state that created me: pure energy and light. I employ that darkness to know light; I use lies to know truth; I use fear to know confidence; use chaos to know peace; and use mindlessness to know mindfulness. All that stuff I can’t seem to find in a box of Cap’n Crunch.

Angler fish? That dude lives in some seriously dark and cold water. But even he needs light to trap and survive. (c) Disney / Pixar, disneywiki images

Angler fish? That dude lives in some seriously dark, deep and cold water. But even he needs light to trap and survive.
(c) Disney / Pixar, disneywiki images

What’s the hardest for me at times in all of this is coming to terms with my capacity for my own darkness. I absolutely possess it; and that’s what makes my ability to see right through others’ bullshit façades like a TSA agent working the conveyor belt at Dulles. They can’t hide from me. I’ve been there. Will I call them out? Not likely; it has to be rampant. I just take notes. I’m starting to blossom a little: I’ve delicately called out hypocrisy and self-righteousness when I see it. It will make me unpopular. I don’t care. People won’t die from being made aware of themselves and their patterns. That includes me too.

It’s almost like an ill-begotten superpower. Like that dude in “Powder” whose mother was struck by lightning (don’t worry, in typical style I’m about to turn Jung upside down again) when she was pregnant with him, he could sense things (secrets, feelings, thoughts) in others and that made him a threat. I am not bald and messed up like he was; I can still grow hair out of my head, but I do know that everyone EVERYONE has been hurt and no matter how brave and how strong and how funny and how smart and clever you might think you are: I’m on to you.

I’ve been there, I know the capacity for darkness in myself and even though I’m not in your shoes: I get it. That makes me your cheerleader. That makes me proud of you, that you’re still here, swinging for the fences. It also makes me aware that you are liable to pop at any moment. Because all that bravado spills over and starts to burn and there’s only so much tough, funny, dedicated, smart guy or gal your pot can handle. Trust me. Even when you think you’ve got it all together, that’s the moment you really don’t. I’m laughing at this actually, because it reminds me of Kevin Bacon in “Animal House” just a few seconds later after Flounder’s enthusiasm became unbridled (same scene as yesterday):

He had to get run over by a stampede of panicked Faberians to be convinced that all hell was breaking loose.

Don’t be like Bacon. Don’t get fried. (Yuk yuk yuk – that was insanely hard and impossible clearly for me to resist.)

So I want to invert this because despite all my crap growing up, I’m an optimist.

We can not know our own darkness without having an appreciation of our own light. We know, even in our darkest, deepest moments, that it’s no way to live. We know that we deserve better thinking, better behavior, better coping and better lives. The question is: do we have the guts to do something about it? I know we do — simply because we are still here. Personality disorder? I get it. Practice some self-awareness, get your act together. Be cool, tone it down, APOLOGIZE.

So to get back to the quote: I know yours because I know my own. Do you know your own to deal with someone else’s? And at times, it is “dealing”; it’s a negotiation just to survive it sometimes.

Thank you.