Output 14--I get him.
My housemate Al is an unusual person. He is also my best friend. We've lived together for almost 10 years now, here in Kentucky. He moved here when his mother died, instead of back to Chicago, and we moved in together after the first 2 or 3 years. We also lived together for about 8 years in Chicago, as a couple. Our romantic relationship was always kind of awkward but I've never gotten along with anyone better as far as taste and opinions go. We think the same things are interesting, we think the same things are bullshit, we think the same things are hilarious. And we don't share these things outside of our 2-person coven, because we're weird and our senses of humor are black and we pretty much lack faith in almost everything. For a Boomer, he's a lot like an X-er.
We don't talk much about feelings except when they cause practical problems for either of us. He knows me very well, so we don't have to talk about that stuff much, but sometimes when I feel like I must speak, I talk to Al. And in his way, he tries to help me find solutions, or at least helps me investigate pathways in which solutions might be possible.
Today during our morning TV time, he queued up this video about a baseball player I had never heard of, and I quickly discerned that Al was showing me this video because he thought I might identify with Zack Greinke. As usual he was not wrong.
Zack Greinke was one of the most promising young pitchers of his era, drafted while still in high school. But his promise became problematic very quickly, because he experienced such extreme anxiety that he not only started performing erratically, but started making weird requests--not to have to speak to the other players during games; not to have to speak to pitching coaches during games; not to have to speak to the general manager more than once every 4 days; to change from pitcher to short stop; to be sent back to the minors; to please not be called up from the minors; to quit and be either a lawn mower, or a trash collector.
His problems were met with a lot of sympathy by management because he was so talented. Even when he started to throw temper tantrums and start fights, he was given a lot of leeway. The only thing they wouldn't let him do, the thing he wanted to do more than anything else, was quit.
And he didn't. He was allowed a leave during which time he started therapy and medication for Major Depression and Social Anxiety Disorder (After this treatment he said his feelings of anxiety and overwhelm calmed to the point where he could continue to play, but he also continued to perform erratically, and many of his more legenday temper tantrums happened AFTER treatment. This leads me to believe he was actually Bipolar and experiencing antidepressant-related hypomania. Because I'm an expert now, dontcha know...).
Al thinks he was also on the Autism spectrum, which seems likely. But what impressed me was the pattern, one that I am so familiar with in myself:
- Be naturally talented;
- Get great opportunities because of your raw talent;
- Get overwhelmed;
- Let the pressure to perform make you so anxious that you run away screaming.
- Continue to receive opportunities and eventually reject them and blame your problems on "the system."
Of course, he got over it, sort of.
I wonder how much pressure came from outside, and how much he put on himself. I wonder if the pressure he was putting on himself became so unbearable, he felt he had to walk away or go crazy. I wonder how much shame he carries because he knows he could be "the best," but due to his mental illness, he'll really never be more than a "very talented" weirdo.
I wonder if I'll get over it, and I wonder if there's still time for it to "matter." For now, Al keeps me safe from some of the graver repercussions of my current inability to work, by giving me a place to live rent-free. But part of me very much fears very much that he will tire of mopping up after me, and I will end up a "very talented" bag lady.
Here's that short documentary about Greinke. I hope he's having a good year.