I Went Off the Deep End

I was telling a t friend last night about this kid asking another friend of mine if “he was one of those Catholics”. My friend asked him what he meant. He said, “You know they’re those people who have to be nice to everyone and drive crappy cars.”

I think he was talking about Presbyterians. I used to be one of those. Growing up my family drove a lot of crappy cars. The Rambler. The Duster. The Volvo. The Reliant. All used. Super duper used. But, as I was thinking through the list I remembered my dad driving a Datsun 240z.

It didn’t really fit with the Presbyterian model of crappy car buying. It was fast-ish. And didn’t have a backseat so much as it an area where my sister and I could unsafely sit with our heads ducked down below the rear window.

It wasn’t really functional for a family of four, but I think my dad bought it to look cool when he drove up to the high school to spend time with his Young Life kids. Which is kind of odd, because one of my favorite quotes of my dad’s was when one of his Young Life kids said “praying isn’t cool” and my dad responded, “cool is bullshit.”

So, which is it? I don’t know. Maybe sports cars are bull shit. I think the idea behind them in this story is bull shit. You want to feel cool or look cool so you buy a cool car. But driving a cool car doesn’t make you cool any more than driving a crappy car makes you Presbyterian.

I think the association with a grown man buying a sports car is often that he’s going through a mid-life crisis. He doesn’t know who he is or isn’t happy with the seemingly perfect suburban life, so he buys a red car with a spoiler and bam…just like that he’s happy. For like a week.

Four years ago I probably had a lot in common with the typical guy who buys sports cars. I was miserable. I really hated myself and my life. So, I looked for something else. I couldn’t afford a sports car. So, I donated money to a stripper. Hell, I couldn’t afford her either, but she gave me that temporary feeling of happy.

And once the Presbyterians found out that married/Chritian-ish Matt made friends with a stripper, I bet a common response was, “Matt’s gone off the deep end.” Because, that’s what I would have said back when I was a card carrying member of the Presbytery.

But, a funny thing happens when you go off the deep end...you either panic and go back to the shallow end or find out you can swim on your own. I’d spent my whole life in the shallow end of the Presbyterian pool. It’s safe there. You’re surrounded by others who think the same way and believe the same things.

But, at some point I decided I wasn’t sure if Presbyterians were cool. Or, more accurately, I decided that I wasn’t cool with continuing to live a life where I couldn’t feel my faith. I could recite the words. And sing the songs. And do all the things that Presbyterians do. But, I wanted to feel it.

And the stripper helped with that. So to speak. No, but really she helped me see that the shallow end was bull shit. She actually listened to all the fucked up parts of me. And made me want to go to therapy where another lady actually listened.

I’d been conditioned to think that the deep end was a bad thing. I needed to stay safe. I couldn’t risk entering into the deep waters of my past and my shortcomings and my feelings that I’m a freak. But, once you start chipping away at that shit, like my therapist encouraged me to do, it becomes a lot less frightening.

And really I never would have learned all that if my ex-wife hadn’t kicked me out of the house and nudged me towards the deep end. I’m so thankful for discovering that I am a strong swimmer. It took a while to get to that point. I needed lots of life preservers in the form of long talks with my therapists and hundreds of pages of writing to see the things I need to do to stay afloat.

When I’m uncomfortable with anything in life I have to write about it until my head is straight. And if that doesn’t work, therapy does. And I guess it’s ironic, because treading water in the deep end should be exhausting, but it’s nowhere near as tiring as trying to fit in with the Presbyterians was.

I don’t have to drive the standard issue Presbyterian car. I’m not cool. “I met you. You’re not cool.” I love that line Lester Bangs tells William Miller in “Almost Famous.” There’s something about that and my dad’s cool is bull shit line that makes me smile. I don’t have to look like everyone else. I can blaze my own trail…where does this deep end lead? Who the fuck knows, but man I’m free from the shit that weighed me down.

It’s like I had a mid-life crisis that actually worked out. I sought out the stripper for temporary relief from the shallow end’s version of cool. But, the usual bull shit of the strip club was completely lost. Real emerged. And that feeling is why I’ll always hang out in the deep end. Dude, dive in. The water’s fine. It’s cool.

If cool is looking like everyone else and changing who we are to fit in then, yes, cool is bull shit. It’s like the deep end gives you a chance to be your real self. It’s tempting to swim back to be with the mainstreamers at first. But, the buoy that I’ve found that keeps me floating in deep waters is letting my real shit out.

I had to pretend as a Presbyterian. I’m not burdened with that weight anymore. The weight of lies or feeling like a phony. I’m free to be the real me. And MatthewBlakeAtkinson is fucked up, but working on it.