Terror Talk

You know, it’s probably not a good idea to spend a lot of time near people who scare the shit out of you.  Even if you know that person isn’t going to harm you and would never harm you.  There are some people who are always talking dooms day scenarios and watching the clock tick toward midnight.  Or those who are certain that Ebola is somewhere on their desk.  Or adamant that crime is flowing into the neighborhood and anyone could be next.

These people are entitled to their stupid opinions.  I have my own.  But if this kind of talk frightens you then maybe this kind of person isn’t good to be around.  (I'm saying this to me).

I’m old; 42 – almost 43.  When I was in first grade Ronald Reagan was elected president.  Everything I heard about at the first grade water cooler was nuclear war.  Most days I could push the thought to the back of my mind and cover it with some kind of mental blanket where my brain couldn’t see it and I couldn’t think about it.  But as soon as one of my classmates said “war” or “nuclear” or “Russians” or “Soviets” or “communists” my brain went to that awful place of terror.

I wasn’t imagining nuclear war.  I was too young to have any concept of what that would entail.  I didn’t imagine anything and that was the problem.  I was frozen in fear.  My brain was like a computer stuck in an endless logic loop.  I was nothing but afraid.  These feelings could last a day or two.  If I was unlucky and heard such talk at just the right intervals in times the fear could kill a week.  I would get in trouble at school for not doing my work.  But I was afraid to tell the teacher that I was too afraid to do the work.  My mind would not stop being afraid of nuclear war.

It wasn’t until third or fourth grade that I finally had enough of it and I went and told the great source of reason and authority in my life, my father.  He could see the terror in my eyes and he told me that I had nothing to worry about.  He said that no one really wants nuclear war and the odds of it every happening were extremely slim.  I don’t remember what time of year or day it had been or what the temperature was before, but suddenly the sun rose and it was a summer Saturday morning.  I went outside and played.  I wish I had said something to him years earlier.  Positive thinking and hope made everything better.

People don’t act when they are terrified.  They react.  Or they do nothing.  It’s not a healthy place to be.

Obviously sometimes we are forced to act in situations of terror.  You cannot control life.  But you can control who you surround yourself by.  So if you have a person who is constantly taking you to that place of terror, whatever your place is, and halting your peace and ease of living and your comfort with no positive talk of solutions or ideas or hope then perhaps you don’t need to be around that person.

I’m 42, as I have said.  I’ve been working for my boss for about 7 or 8 years.  Generally speaking he is a rational and funny guy.  But ever since Donald Trump was elected he has been all talk of war with China and the end of days and Russian subterfuge and hopeless and worry and kids and grandkids and a world with no future.  You get the picture.  He says it with a laugh as though he has overcome the worry.  But so did the kids in first grade.  They wanted to hoist their worry onto someone else and hope that person could carry it for them.

I’m hearing this doom talk from a lot of different places and I’m feeling like a helpless first grader again.  And I think I’ve had just about enough of it.  I’m tired of worthless worry talk.  I’m ready to think positive and act positive and try and find solutions to the problem rather than tossing my worry off onto other people.

But it does leave me with a job dilemma.  My heart cannot take this talk anymore.  Logically I know how to cope with it when it comes, but for a few minutes every time I hear it I'm taken back to that place of terror.

I know what you’re thinking, “Michael, you’re a grown man, suck it up.”  You’re right.  And I probably will.  But this is one more straw, and a rather large straw, on the back of a camel that already doesn’t want to be carrying this job around.

(solutions to follow)