As defined by Wikipedia, “In psychology and psychotherapy, existential crises are inner conflicts characterized by the impression that life lacks meaning or by confusion about one’s personal identity.”
The holidays are over and the end of year festivities have come to a close. We are already 1/12 through 2024 and I am in the middle of an existential crisis. It could be age-related, as I’m old, but it seems to me that I have been suffering this existential crisis for many years now with my inner turmoil usually surfacing between the months of January and March. Granted, the turmoil, while not necessarily age-related, has changed a bit in the last 40 years of my hand wringing and introspection. Believe me when I say that I have not been a big fan of self-examination, especially since I stopped taking certain introspective drugs in the early 1970s, but for some reason during the first three months of each year since those wild — but brooding — days, I have silently suffered my internal anguish.
No Moody Moaner, am I…
By nature, I am not a moody moaner. On the contrary, I am usually rather upbeat and happy go lucky regarding my general outlook. This change in attitude might have to do with my diet or my spiritual leanings, but quite possibly it’s because I’m shallow and lacking in self-reflection. Maybe my distress is due to my compulsive need to watch the 24-hour Twilight Zone marathon on New Year’s Day following my New Year’s Eve revelry. Of course, as this tradition of watching non-stop reality checks has been going on since the early 1980s, one might think that I should know better by now; or that I have at least seen every episode ever made of the Twilight Zone. Unfortunately, while I lack self-analysis, I am also very slow, and it wasn’t until this year that I realized that watching more than one Twilight Zone episode a week could be detrimental to one’s psychological health.
As it turns out, despite my non-Twilight Zone New Year’s Day binges, I was once again besieged by my yearly existential crises. “What could it be that causes this anguish,” I wailed to myself (internally of course, so as to not wake the grandkids). As an aside, I do put on a good face for the grandkids. While my astuteness and contemplative nature might be questionable, I must confess that I’m a pretty good actor and I don’t let on to my internal sufferings. Even if I did express my anguish to a one-year-old and three-year-old, I probably wouldn’t get the response I need, and it would only expose yet another of my character flaws.
Well, this year I had a breakthrough, as I was acting my way through the grandfatherly grandfather role with the kids. I realized that “I’m not working!” Quite the revelation after 40 years, but I guess it’s better late than never to understand why I have a tailspin at the beginning of each year. So, the good news is that I am introspective after all; the bad news is I’m still slow.
Assuaging the Madman
So, now what? Now that I recognize the cause of my existential crises, does it make it better? Does it relieve me of my torment? Does it assuage the madman behind my wizened grandfatherly face? No, it does nothing but make me aware that — despite my astute revelation — I am still not working enough to keep the negative hounds at bay. I like to work; I like to do things and I like to be in motion, as it keeps me from turning in on myself and sparring with my demons. So, I do things. I tinker around the house. I walk my dogs. I play guitar. I write songs and I see friends and all of that is good, but I’m not working and I’m not making money. Did I say that I like to make money? It’s another shallow trait of mine, I confess. When I’m working and making money, at something I like to do, my suffering abates and my existential crises are far less pronounced.
No, you’re not helping if you tell me to get a part-time job, thank you very much. Telling me that I should have known this downtime was coming doesn’t help either, considering that I only know a few audio engineers whose salaries can afford them to save enough for a three-month vacation. I do know a few single engineers who can manage a month-long break, but if one is married or in a relationship, a one-week vacation is about all we can manage. Remember, a vacation with a partner is a double expense — even if said partner pays their way. It just is; and in all fairness, I have tried the one-week vacation route. My wife and I once decided that as my schedule was non-existent, January would be a good time to have some fun in the sun. Now, my wife can happily lay out in the sun all day basting herself and sipping Margaritas. This leads me to believe that she’s one of the reptile people, since I — on the other hand, as a warm-blooded creature — can only endure about 10 minutes of the sun before I’m back sipping my adult beverage and suffering my existential crises in the shade of the bar.
While alcohol certainly helps keep my existential crises in check, I still fight the yearly internal battle with the added pain of knowing that once I return from my one-week foray into bliss, I will still have 11 weeks of nothing. That’s right nothing, but minus what I spend on the vacation, it would leave me with a whole lot less than nothing. That’s three months of nothing and if I hear that I should be more responsible in managing my finances, or that I should possibly find a better paying job, it would only point out more of my character flaws; and that certainly doesn’t help when in the throes of an existential (and financial) crisis.
Since this crisis happens at the same time every year, the fact I’m surprised by it is obviously just another failing on my part. As I said before, I like to work and it’s usually all work until the first of each year, when everything stops and my life become surreal. I did mention that I’ve quit my marathon TV binge on New Year’s Day, as it exacerbates my disorder, but nonetheless I do manage to sneak in a few episodes just to hear Rod Serling explain my condition:
“You’re traveling through another dimension — a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That’s a signpost up ahead: Your next stop? The Twilight Zone!”
Contact Baker Lee at blee@fohonline.com.
