What to Say to Those Who Are Down
Two days ago, something really, REALLY scared me.
No, it wasn’t a snake, ghost, or fermented eggplants, although the latter would have made me want to unplug my Matrix neck plug and be done with this life. It was the thought of aging and me losing my memory.
I was writing an article about love. When I gather ideas to write, I usually walk back and forth on the Northern California beach, staring at the sand. I try to let the rhythm of the ocean water hitting my feet pump thoughts and words into my mind. It usually works well, although I do look like a detectorist without his gear at times.
But two days ago, this tactic wasn’t working. I thought about the ideas, the structure of the upcoming article. Words kept rushing to my mind, but there was no joy and the “ah-huh” that usually comes with them. Instead, it was a feeling of unease. Somehow these words and ideas felt unoriginal, stale, and even scary. Both my kidneys and bladder felt weird, as if my thoughts were poisoned soup going through my body. I wanted to throw up.
What the heck was happening to me?
Then, the moment of terror: a thought flashed through my mind. You know when Bruce Willis at the end of Six Sense [spoiler alert, although this is a 25-year-old movie, what have you been doing all these years?], he turned around and saw his own bloody body with a lethal wound, he realized he was already dead and was actually a ghost. [/spoiler alert]
That’s how I felt when that thought came to my mind: wait, did I already write this article?
I whipped out my computer and frantically searched for it. MacBooks, with all their slick design and awesome OS, aren't great with the search function. I kept searching and searching. Then, I found it. A Word doc with the word “love” in its title.
I opened the file and started reading, word by word, line by line, paragraph by paragraph. It was beautifully written. But the ideas, the structure, and even words, everything coincided with what I was about to write. Only I had already written this article two and a half years ago.
And I had completely forgotten about it!
I slumped in my chair, closed my computer, and my eyes. For a split second, I felt like closing my brainwave and heart valves too, just for a second.
There were no tears, but I felt like crying.
I am losing my memory!!!
Truth be told, I have never had an amazing memory. I often forget about what I was going to do when walking into a room, and sometimes get lost in other thoughts in the middle of a sentence. But I tell myself, hey, I am just quirky! Yes, I forget things, but I make up for it by remembering important facts, such as my recipe for fried rice and the starting date of the NBA season.
But at this moment, it felt different. This wasn’t just some trivial thing I forgot, but an important article I spent days writing. If I can forget things like this, what else can I forget? My own name? My wife Tracy? Jayson Tatum’s rookie season stats?
This past year, the news media had its field day with aging American politicians freezing in public settings. At that moment, I felt like one of them. Except these folks are in their 80s and 90s. I am only 42.
I went home that night without being able to write another word.
People’s psyches are tricky. When you feel confident, you feel you are on top of the world. There is nothing you can’t conquer. There is nothing you can’t write. “The only thing that separated me from Shakespeare was that he was bald and was lucky to have been born during the Renaissance, while I get to live in the nauseating age of social media when no one reads anymore”, these were the type of crazy thoughts that go through my mind when I had full confidence in myself.
But when that confidence is gone, when there is a slice of doubt that creeps into your mind about your age, ability, and mental agility, everything crumbles.
I felt like giving up writing.
That night, I went home looking like a beaten dog.
My wife Tracy looked at me: "What happened?"
Me: “Nothing.”
Tracy: “Tell me. Something’s wrong.”
Me: “Ok, I can tell you, but please don’t judge me.”
Tracy sat down: “Sure.”
Me: “I think I have Alzheimer's.”
Tracy: “Don’t you always think you have Alzheimer's?”
Me: “Yes, but this time it’s real. I completely forgot about writing an article two and a half years ago, and was about to rewrite it, word for word. How can I forget this? I think I really have Alzheimer's.”
Tracy, nodding her head, then said: “Can I try to lift you up?”
Life is full of little choices people make. Sometimes, those choices have very little effect. And other times, these choices can make a profound impact.
At this moment, there were many things Tracy could have said:
It’s OK. We all get old.
Wow, that sucks. Can I get you a popsicle?
Damn, let’s look for an online Alzheimer's quiz.
[Crying] OMG, will you forget about me too?
Those are all somewhat valid choices. But instead, she chose to say “Can I try to lift you up?”
Tracy then followed: “You are always like this. When I first met you, you were forgetting about things left and right. This is no different. I don’t see anything deteriorating. This is just you.”
None of these words are that powerful, profound, or meant to be so. It might or might not have been entirely accurate. But at this moment, it didn’t matter.
Her words were like a ray of sunshine in complete darkness. They were like a bottle of sparkling water after days of scorching desert. If God asked Himself “Jia, what can make you feel better right now,” I would not have come up with anything close to as effective as these words from Tracy.
I stood up, gave her a hug, and said, “Thank you!”
It feels like a cheesy anime scene looking back now, but in the moment, it felt like a world of dark clouds was lifted off me. It was the best thing ever.
Let me repeat: people’s psyches are a funny thing.
My confidence is back, my power, and mojo are back. Maybe I will have Alzheimer's someday, but today is not that day. Not yet. Words are now flowing out of my fingers. I am writing like a bad mofo again.
All because my dear wife Tracy chose to say the words “Can I try to lift you up?” at my moment of doubt and despair.
When people are down and vulnerable with you, don’t try to fix them. Don’t freak out. No matter how clever you think your fix is, and how justified for you to freak out alongside them, don’t!
Listen to them, then try to lift them up. Often, that’s exactly what they needed. And sometimes, that’s the only thing they need.
And guess what, I just wrote my new article on love, and you just read it. Only this time, I am sure I hadn’t written it before.
Thanks so much for sharing this. You aren't alone in those worries or intense feelings, I think you are very human and I appreciate you!
This is great! I wish more people knew these words, instead of trying to fix things or think they know what my disease is trying to tell me (ugh, disease mind reading).