Papagni Pages

Tag: mental health

  • The Balancing Act: Speak Up or Stay Silent?

    I admit this post is a mind dump.

    I keep a journal. If I were to look back over the past forty years, I have no doubt that I have written ‘keep your mouth shut’ 698 times, at a minimum. At this point I should just accept defeat, but it’s not in my nature to do that. In keeping with my list making proclivities:

    • When you speak your truth you risk having the person you are speaking to declare that your truth is not a shared truth.
    • What you share might be perceived as confrontational, therefore, angering the recipient.
    • Bringing up an issue can cause a problem to explode; becoming larger than intended.
    • Not sharing can cause resentment because the problem will not usually go away on its own.
    • You might share a confidence only to learn the information has been shared with others.
    • Not sharing may mean trust issues with others who sense that you are not being forthcoming about “stuff.”
    • Sometimes small issues fade away and lose their importance. For example, you are upset with someone because you’ve done something significant for them and they have not said, “thank you.” Time goes by and they share their gratitude about something unrelated. You may come to realize that the person may believe that they’ve already expressed their gratitude or they might be so caught-up in major concerns, that relaying thanks unintentionally slipped their mind. Forgiveness is essential, but grace isn’t always easy. A sincere thank you has always been a requirement for me.
    • Your thoughts can become distorted over time. It’s human nature to fill in blanks and see only what we desire to see. Speculation can be a disaster.
    • It’s important to first consider who the recipient of your words is — is it someone you trust and care about? If the answer is “no” for either or both, you should consider keeping it to yourself. One of the reasons I journal, make an entry and move on.
    • Do you have a proven track record with the individual who will hear your words? Some relationships are built on speaking your mind. A foundation can become stronger and more durable (or it can crumble to the ground).
    • Can you live with yourself if you decide not to share? For example, you suspect your best friend’s boyfriend of cheating. You might have irrefutable proof, but you have to ask yourself if you are prepared for the reaction you might or might not get.
    • You firmly believe a friend is an alcoholic. Is it up to you to get them help or guide them to assistance? Is remaining quiet even possible for you? Is it fair to discuss the issue with others who are close to the individual? Are you willing to risk losing a friend or family member? If a person doesn’t recognize that they have a problem, you will probably fail in convincing them. I have always found this to be a difficult dilemma. You can of course apply this to any substance abuse.
    • You may be wrong. You need to be prepared to learn that and make an apology.
    • Politics has become a hot button for many. I don’t mind sharing my POV, but I know my leftist woke values can be controversial.
    • If you know your words will not be heard or considered, why bother?

    Obviously, not an exhaustive list. I’m more consumed by outcomes than I believe is healthy. I admire people who question their thoughts, shrug and move on. As I stated earlier, that’s not who I am. My sister recently told me that she was listening to some great communicator who said, “Don’t spend too much time thinking about what others think of you. These people are more than likely not thinking about you at all.” I’m paraphrasing, but I think I captured the gist of what she was trying to convey. Yes, I do believe there is some truth to this, I think most of us care a great deal about what others think; especially when we respect and value these individuals. As I’ve gotten older, I feel like I care less. Retirement has a way of helping you set boundaries, manage priorities, and dwell on things a bit less.

    This took time: I couldn’t care less what certain faculty members I worked with thought or still think of me, because I have little or no respect for many of them. It’s like believing something a liar says; if a liar lies most of the time, why would you think the one thing you know is probably a lie, might be true just because they said it?You’re giving the liar too much credit. I should also be clear that there were many that I did respect and admire.

    Caring about the little things a little less probably has something to do with knowing that you have already lived more than two-thirds (or more) of your life.

    Please share other scenarios where speaking up or staying quiet might be a consideration.

    State-of-Mind

    I’m not going to lie, I’ve been in a funk. There are several things happening around me that are beyond my control. I’m a fixer. If I cannot fix something or improve upon a situation, it makes me anxious, so . . . I’m anxious now. And this too shall pass.

    I love spring and early spring has come to southern Portugal; birds are singing and flowers are blooming. I’m hoping nature will lift me up. I’ve never suffered from depression; however, I occasionally go down a dark rabbit hole. I know the only way out is to switch to more positive thoughts and practice gratitude. I realize that I have a great deal to be grateful for.

    “The best use of creativity is imagination. The worst use of creativity is anxiety.”  ― Deepak Chopra

  • Prepared or Overplanning?

    Those of you who know me will just read this with a knowing smile. Hopefully this blog will help you understand the decisions I make. If you don’t know me, you may read my content and relate to how my brain works or you may think me mad. I often have to remind myself that we are all wired differently. I have a neighbor who is 97 years old and in the hospital in Faro for the second time in a few weeks. I’m fairly certain he will not make it out. I’ve known this man since arriving in Portugal and I have observed him with fascination and awe. He lived in a house nearby until a few years ago; I spent time with him in his former residence; wine, a few meals, some laughter. His father was one of the individuals responsible for building the building I live in. Apparently he wanted to build a home on the building’s corner lot and the city would only allow a high rise. So he built a large seven story structure in the 60’s that is now part of the city’s historical register; the building garnering multiple architectural awards. I feel fortunate to reside in this building. He and his partner decided to move into an apartment he had been leasing to someone else. On the day he moved in, I went out onto my terrace and I observed him helping the movers carry boxes and other belongings into the building. I couldn’t help but be blown away by this. A few days later, I got off the elevator and I found him on the lobby floor filling a small hole in the marble. The man was 93 years old. That level of care for the common area where we reside got me thinking about my own intentions and what I am most passionate about.

    I know that every human is different: how we see the world, how we navigate life, and how we think about ourselves in relation to the rest of society. I know that nature and nurture play a major role in our orientation to the world. When I look at this man, I see someone who is 100% invested in every aspect of life. When he is not in hospital, he conducts experiments, he enjoys eating, doing so slowly and with delight, he shops, he listens to music, etc. This is how he was only months ago, I can only imagine what he was like as a young man. When his light is extinguished, we will have lost a rare human indeed. Back to how this relates to me.

    In some ways I am young — well compared to him I am. Still, when I think about my life, I consider this my final chapter. I have no idea why I am this way. I have mentioned in an earlier blog post that I purchased a term life policy when I was ten years old. I paid the premiums with my allowance. To be fair, because of my age it was only a dollar a month, but looking back, I think it was a bit premature to have such a policy. I didn’t want to leave my mother with debt. Lulu just laughed at me hoping it was just a phase; it wasn’t.

    I continue to plan way too early. When I was 12 years old I flossed so that I’d still have my own teeth later in life (was repulsed by my father’s false teeth sitting in a glass in our shared bathroom). I had a bank savings account when I was 13. Trust me it only had a few dollars in it. The bank used to give you a little book, the teller made handwritten entries when you made a deposit or withdrawal. I mostly saved for Christmas gifts. I started paying rent on an apartment when I was 17 years old; I didn’t like giving my money to a landlord, so I saved for my own place. I knew in high school that I wanted a Ph.D. I didn’t really understand what it was, but I knew that if I was to get one, it would mean something . . . and it does.

    There are many other examples of this kind of compulsive behavior; perpetually trying to get ahead of what might come my way. The operative word there is “might.” It’s pretty obvious that a life insurance policy at 10 years old was not practical, I should have been buying toys or candy. The big question is: Is it helpful or hurtful to look so far into the future and anticipate one’s needs? I imagine the answer is that it is both.

    For example, being determined to earn a higher degree was very positive. I didn’t really have the acumen for a Ph.D., trust me it’s true. What I had was grit and determination and that’s what got me through it. Had I not thought seriously about it early on, I would never have gotten the grades needed to be accepted into NYU’s doctoral program. I kept my head in the books when everyone I knew was dancing the night away. Do I have regrets? Yes, in truth I think my desire to succeed academically meant that I pushed too many things to the side. I normally don’t like to play the coulda, shoulda, woulda game, but since I’m writing about it . . . I feel like I missed out on a lot of fun as a young person (excluding sports which I didn’t like because I was uncoordinated and bullied).

    Hanging out with friends, sleepovers, weekend trips, concerts, and all of the other things young people did back then were not a part of my world, because I was too serious. I’m not sure what came first: being an introvert and, therefore, avoiding group interaction or spending so much time studying, I became a loner. I’m not sure it truly matters. I’ve come to accept who I am, the good, the bad, the insane.

    The danger is that I will look into the future and decide that the obvious next stage of my life is to stay in, read, watch streamed films or series, eat, drink, rinse and repeat. I’ve already trimmed my travel schedule because getting on an airplane has become such an unpleasant and unpredictable experience. I’ve decided to mostly stick with brief, local experiences. The States is the furthest away I will travel and I will only travel there in order to see the people I love.

    I’m fortunate to have friends who put up with my excessive planning. I’m sure that some will humor me and go along with plans for a trip over a year out. I’m certain others talk about how anal retentive I am behind my back. No matter, as they say, “It is what it is.”

    The question is, will I plan for my own death? I’m pretty certain I will (probably because I already am). I am too much of a control freak to allow someone else to decide on the details.

    Things I do to prepare:

    • my bedroom for sleep in the early afternoon (shades, pull back duvet, lighting)
    • several meals days in advance. I love the anticipation
    • I start to pack about 10 days before a trip
    • If I know I’m about to have a difficult conversation with a professional (i.e., attorney, doctor), I take notes prior to our meeting
    • I started taking supplements for middle and old age when I was in my early twenties
    • I’m usually the first to RSVP
    • I’m usually waiting for people at a restaurant or meeting place
    • I did a living will in my 30s
    • I look at the weather 10 days ahead (as you know, it often changes)
    • I used to lay out my outfit the night before. I stopped doing this because I don’t care about what I’m wearing anymore.
    • I save addresses in Google Maps long before a trip.
    • I replace things in my pantry and cleaning supplies closet long before I run out. When I die, someone will inherit paper towels for a lifetime and enough tuna to feed Japan.
    • I used to remove my guest’s plates from the table while others were eating. I’ve since relaxed a bit.
    • 90% of the time I tell my guests it’s time to leave. I usually use walking Paco as the reason, but most people are smarter than that.
    • There are things that I’m too embarrassed to include here.

    State-of-Mind

    Paco update:

    For those of you following Paco’s health issues, I thought I’d let you know how he’s doing. His prognosis is extremely involved and precarious, so I’m not going to say much. A bacterial infection in his outer ear spread to other places. His treatment began in early March 2025 and it’s been a physical roller coaster ever since, causing the two of us a good deal of grief — Paco pain and discomfort and me, doubts about medical procedures and of course, concern for his future. He’s been on eight different medications, four antibiotics administered three different ways, steroids, painkillers, dietary supplements, and he’s had three surgeries in the last two months. He had a procedure on Friday that may or may not have helped; I won’t know for a week or two. In the meantime, I’m giving him daily injections of his forth antibiotic and local antibiotics (this treatment being our last hope). I’ve never been through anything quite like this; it has taught me patience and more about bacterial infections than I care to know. This particular bacteria is known to resist most if not all antibiotics. I wish I could say more about it. I appreciate those around me who have provided support and comfort.

    Further update (since I started this blog): his vet says she sees signs that Paco is finally responding to the treatment, but I hear congestion in his lungs and it worries me.

    I’m taking a quick trip to the Loire Valley in southwest France to clear my head a bit. Stepping back has always been good for me. I think when you’re in the thick of something for an extended period of time, you sometimes lose perspective.

    I will go back to short stories very soon. I just needed a little break.

    “You have power over your mind – not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” — Marcus Aurelius 

  • Triggers and Such

    I Have a Few

    What is a trigger in mental health?

    In mental health terms, a trigger refers to something that affects your emotional state, often significantly, by causing extreme overwhelm or distress. A trigger affects your ability to remain present in the moment (healthline.com).

    I was in the middle of writing this and I happened to see Hugh Grant being interviewed on a talk show. He was asked if there is anything these days that pisses him off (paraphrasing). He said, “There are so many things.” Having watched this actor go through some very difficult times, It felt good to know I am not alone. I suspect a few of you reading this will agree.

    I’m going to start by stating some of the things that trigger me:

    • when people do not listen when others are speaking directly to them
    • when someone jumps ahead in line
    • lying, cheating, and deception
    • when I share how I feel or what I think and the person I’m talking to immediately gets defensive (I have to be careful because I sometimes get defensive)
    • when someone gets away with a violation of the law, when others have been severely punished for the same crime
    • when people do not pick up their dog poop
    • the revving of motorcycle engines (noise pollution; usually teenagers and usually when I’m reading)
    • when someone cuts me off while I’m driving
    • when someone pushes me
    • when someone yells at me
    • when google maps sends me in circles or to the wrong address
    • people who try to enter a train or elevator before those who are exiting
    • when I’m sitting at an outdoor café on a beautiful day and someone at the table next to me is doing something to ruin the experience (could be any number of things)
    • when government agencies deliberately use red tape to deter you from pursuing a benefit
    • when people talk during a film
    • when parents do nothing to quiet their screaming babies
    • when people speak loudly on their cell phones (especially on public transportation)
    • when salespeople try to tell me what I need
    • when doctors (or other professionals) are condescending
    • when someone drinks like a fish (or orders a Tomahawk) at dinner and wants to split the check
    • when young people take a seat on public transportation and then fail to offer their seat to those who need to sit
    • when an individual insists on talking to me about their religion even when I insist I am not interested
    • when individuals use a public restroom and leave it a mess
    • when someone comes to my house for a dinner party and says, “I meant to bring you something, but I forgot” or “I didn’t have time to stop.”

    As I was typing, I realized my list is endless. I’d love to know about your triggers.

    My Reaction to Being Triggered

    I imagine that many of you will relate to how it feels to be triggered. It seems like it doesn’t take much to set people off these days. Lately, my immediate reaction to being triggered is rage. After the initial internal explosion of anger, I assess the situation. Is it safe for me to communicate my displeasure? Unfortunately, most people cannot handle feedback; therefore, I have to hold back. This has been true for past relationships and interaction with family as well. Baggage I have carried with me since childhood has had a big impact on my everyday life. The things that trigger me have remained fairly consistent; what has changed is how I react.

    What Control Looks Like

    If I can diffuse my anger and walk away, that is by far the best response. I take a deep breath and consider a healthy way to cope. If I’m on the road, I try my best to switch to soothing music. If the anger builds and I feel myself remaining tense, I pull over and sit for a while. If I’m on the street, I cross over to the opposite side. If I’m in a shop, I leave. If I need to buy something, I go to another part of the shop and wait a few minutes.

    When I worked in an office I had no choice but to completely control my anger. Considering I worked in the same place for 16 years and I was promoted several times, I must have been successful at holding back. I recall walking to my office, closing the door, and taking several deep breaths. Ultimately I did lose my cool with my boss and then resigned a few days later; however, in all fairness, it was time.

    I think when you can control your anger in the workplace, you should be able to do it everywhere else. If you find you have trouble responding in a healthy way, there are people and organizations available to help. I found that a life coach, was a life saver.

    The Work

    Ah the hard work that needs to be done — it ain’t easy. In order to prevent myself from becoming an angry old man, I need to be aware of my triggers and work on my reaction. I need to react in a healthy way, without the help of substances. Here’s the plan:

    1. The first thing I need to do is choose healthy responses to most situations. Create a tool box with tools I can call upon.
    2. I need to practice with someone I trust. I need to be fully present.
    3. After I try a response, I need to assess the success of said response. Did I remain calm? Did I carry the anger with me all day or night? If I was able to diffuse the anger, what did I learn from it?
    4. Repeat, repeat, repeat, until a successful response becomes my go to in the future.
    5. Do a regular check on where I am with anger control.
    6. Congratulate myself for making progress and learning new behaviors.
    7. Ask people I trust, how I’m doing.

    One needs to also keep in mind that some amount of anger is healthy — it’s good to feel rage, so long as you can control it.

    What I Strive For

    Ultimately, I’d like to be nonplussed by my triggers — I’d like to stop caring as much as I do. For example, I witness someone leaving dog poop on the street and I either pick it up myself or turn the other way. No lingering anger or resentment, just acceptance and a version of indifference.

    I don’t want to be “that guy.” That guy who pisses and moans about everything; that guy who is labeled “negative;” that guy who doesn’t see the good in things or people; that guy with a short fuse; that guy who doesn’t care about anything. I want to be known as easygoing and sexy (just wanted to be sure you were paying attention).

    I observed a person I was spending time with yesterday, being triggered several times. I observed several passive aggressive responses to their anger. A great way to learn how not to respond. Nobody likes the tension caused by this sort of reaction. This is why Karens are unpopular.

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    Future Travel

    Lyon, France for Christmas, South Africa land & sea in February, and Oslo, Norway, July 2024. Finally, a visit to the Puglia region of Italy in the spring of 2025. The United States in 2025 is likely: Brooklyn, Florida, Portland, Maine, Maryland, and North Carolina. I booked a Mediterranean cruise for October 2025; more about that some other time — it sails from Tel Aviv. I know you may not see it, but this is a much lighter travel schedule than the past.

    Current State of Mind

    I’m having my wood floors refinished next month and it will be a big mess (I don’t like messes). In anticipation, I am taking it easy and keeping plans to a minimum. I know that my life will be turned upside down for at least a week in mid-January; therefore, I’m enjoying the holiday season and the quiet that I am experiencing now.

    Namaste

  • My Last Night With Anthony

    I only wish I’d known my brother would soon leave us

    Anthony was super sensitive, troubled, and a danger to himself. He was also extremely supportive and people couldn’t help loving him. He was born two years after me in Brooklyn, at a time when behavioral and psychological issues went undiagnosed. Anthony wasn’t lock-him-up crazy, but he wasn’t meant to be left to his own devices either. I knew my brother struggled, but I had my own shit to deal with growing up. Our broken home was not the best environment for personal instability. As if by random selection, I thrived in our shared dysfunction, my brother did not. Anthony was only 38 when a fatal dose of heroin took his life. He apparently had an enlarged heart as a result of years of cocaine abuse. The coroner documented his death as an accident — we’ll never know for sure. This is the story of our last night together.

    I was turning 40 and finally somewhat satisfied with the direction of my life. A career that was progressing nicely, a completed Ph.D., a brownstone apartment in Brooklyn that was all mine, and for the most part, acceptance of my sexual orientation. I was ready to celebrate. I planned a big party at a friend’s Manhattan, Park Avenue penthouse. I hired chefs, entertainment, and invited nearly 100 of my closest friends and family. I had already come out as gay, but this was more like coming out as having survived my youth. I prepared a speech for the occasion where I would let those who cared about me know how much they meant to me. Anthony flew to New York from North Carolina. I was too busy during the day of my party to spend any time with him; I told him I’d see him at my party.

    By the time he arrived, the party was in full swing. He walked over to me at some point, sullen and resembling death. I wasn’t immediately alarmed, I’d seen him in despair many times in our lives. He suffered from severe depression and his marriage had recently ended. I hugged him and promised him that at some point during the evening, we’d have some quality time. We passed one another several times throughout the night. I asked him to stick around for my speech because there was something I wanted him to hear.

    My sister Kathy approached me during the party chaos. She told me that she knew I was busy, but she was worried about Anthony. I recall saying something like, “Aren’t we always worried about Anthony?” A failed suicide attempt in his teens left us all forever on edge. I assured her that I’d check in on him before he flew back to North Carolina. It was a big night for me and my focus was on other things.

    I gave my speech and referred to him as my brother and best friend. I was hoping that would cheer him up; it did make him smile, but clearly he was in a dark place. He’d been clean and sober for a long time and I was concerned that he might be so despondent he’d start using again. Anyone who has dealt with depression will tell you that the attempt to help someone is not always met with an embrace.

    Anthony stayed till the end of the party and helped me load my gifts into the car. He had an early morning flight, but he seemed eager to speak to me about something on his mind. He had a history of placing me in the center of challenging times in his life. At one point in his early twenties I found him emaciated and close to death in his North Carolina apartment. There were empty heroine vials and used needles everywhere. I carried him out to my car and drove him to a rehab facility in Charlotte. He stayed for the three week treatment and remained clean (as far as I knew) until a short period prior to his death. He traveled the country speaking to young people about addiction and his journey to a better life — a healthier life. He often credited me with saving him, although I never wanted that responsibility. It was my mother who begged me to go to his apartment on the day I found him. By then, I was close to giving up on him. Rehabilitation, meeting a woman he fell in love with, and then having a beautiful baby girl, all led to stability and some semblance of happiness. Until it all came crashing down. Back to the night we unknowingly said goodbye forever.

    After loading the car, we drove to Brooklyn and went to a diner to talk. Anthony wept and shared his disappointment about a marriage that had fallen apart and the knowledge that his six year old daughter would no longer be a part of his daily life. He was devastated and blamed himself for all of it. I listened and tried my best to be supportive. His tendency toward violence and extreme anger made it difficult to absolve him of any blame. Considering his state of mind, this was not the time to chide him for his bad behavior. I liked and respected his wife, but I also felt that she had in some way brought it on — I’m certain some of those feelings came from being a protective brother; I knew the triggers that brought out the worst in Anthony. 

    Hours of talk painfully passed as the sun eventually showed through the filthy diner windows. I began hearing some softening of Anthony’s sobs and a small amount of relief. His flight was due to take off soon and I needed to get him to the airport. We were both spent and weary. I was deeply concerned about Anthony’s state-of-mind, but I needed sleep. We had been there before and I knew this time we had together would only be a bandaid. 

    When we arrived curbside at departures, I stepped out of the car to hug my brother. As he wept in my arms, I recall telling him that he could come and stay with me anytime. I asked him to call me when he got home and he nodded and left me with a hint of a smile. I was relieved that the night was over as I drove away. This was the last time I saw my brother. He called me several times before overdosing/heart failure in July. After his death, I asked myself if there was anything more that I could have done. The answer of course is yes, there is always more one could have done, but I’m certain that there was nothing I could have done that would have prevented his death. His last call to me was a few days before he took to the streets to find heroin. He was deeply depressed, however, that was par for the course. I know that it was Anthony’s lifelong struggle with depression and addiction that killed him. Those of us who loved him may have at times eased his pain a bit, but none of us could have prevented his death. His struggle and friendship will inspire and haunt me until I die.

    ____________________________________

    If you are struggling with a loved one who suffers from depression, there is no formula for helping them survive. Love, counseling, mental health programs, the sharing of resources, and the support of everyone around you can hopefully get you both through this devastating reality.

    Anthony is sitting next to me on the sofa. My guess is that he was a year old in this photo and I was three. In the second photo, we were in North Carolina sometime in the early 80s.

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    Future Travel

    Basel, Switzerland in September, Asia land & sea, end of October/November and South Africa land & sea in February. My sister Debbie and her husband Lynn, will be joining me on a visit to our father’s birthplace in the Puglia region of Italy in 2025.

    Current State-of Mind

    These last few weeks in Faro have been a gift. Lots of quiet time for reflection and rest. I have once again decided to steer clear of toxic individuals — I say once again because I occasionally lose perspective and use poor judgment; I needed a good jolt. It’s impossible to rid yourself of all who cause you grief; however, you can limit the number by being proactive. Taking the high road is always the best path. Healthy disagreement is good, but not always possible; therefore, when it’s not an option, walk away. Anthony and others I have lost remind me of how fleeting life is.

    ____________________________________

    News: I have been waiting for the following (it will be a deciding factor in my remaining in Portugal):

    After a long battle, Portugal passed a law on Friday legalizing euthanasia for people in great suffering and with incurable diseases, joining just a handful of countries around the world (wikipedia). Bravo!

    Please forgive any typographical or grammatical errors.