A Prozac for Your Thoughts

In general, there are two types of people; even-keeled rocks of strength who can meet any challenge with a calm steely reserve, and volcanoes who explode all over everyone and everything. In my opinion, both are good. I have a deep respect for the person who is unwavering and controlled. I understand they might not join the conga line or the group hug. I know they won’t be crying at the end of Big Fish or any movie where Debra Winger dies, but that’s okay. Someone has to describe the spider to the 911 operator or make sure the wild kid doesn’t let go of the piñata bat. Working tear ducts are a small sacrifice. What about the blow hard? He don’t bug me, either. This guy may give ulcers, but he’ll never get them and if the dog pees every time he shouts, so be it. It’s not my carpet. Yes, I actually respect people who are on both of these extremes. Each has her or his place. Be it working in an office cubicle or at the DMV. I believe people are wired a certain way. I’m not going to get into the genetics/environment discussion. That would require a clear thought process and my thinking is far too nebulous for that.

Now, just like when I’m dancing, I’m all over the place. If you have a heart attack, I’m your man. I can notify security, assign an elevator monitor, get the poor suckers emergency card copied while I describe the lovely shade of green he’s turning to the 911 babe or have the courage to say out loud to the paramedic, “No, his skin naturally has that grayish tinge to it.” I bet during all of this my blood pressure remains a constant calm; probably wouldn’t even find a pulse. I can also throw a good rant when necessary. Ignore my phone calls? (I don’t THINK so!) Tell me, “I understand your frustration, but I can’t help you. That's not our policy” (Let's just take a moment and review that policy, okay?!) I’ve made grown men cry and rendered quick talking females speechless. (If nothing else, I am a gentleman.) People actually ask me to make calls for them and “Pull a Mark.” My daughter walked into the room after I hung up with Time Warner Cable and gave me a high-five. (In all fairness, I asked to speak to the supervisor and she said she could solve my problem.)

But the rest of the time I’m all over the place, too. I can’t hear good news without my pulse racing or bad news and not feel my heart in my throat. I can’t look at a picture of my kids for too long and not tear up with joy or worry or excitement or pride…you get my drift. And the problem comes when the good news is immediately followed by the bad, and then the exciting and then the unjust and then the kids.
Have you ever had a shock to your system? I’m not talking about an ice cube down your back or a glimpse of an overweight lady's thong or a big drink of Diet Coke when you think there’s Dr. Pepper in the glass. I’m talking about real system overload. This week I’ve been going through it big time. I’ve heard it all; good news, bad news, happy and sad news. It’s been a wild rollercoaster ride without a seatbelt. I know it’s better to feel all of this than to feel numb or to feel nothing. I don’t necessarily want to change it, but understanding it would be nice. I’d ask for comments, but you’re not ready. That’s okay. It’s enough knowing you’re there.