The Physical Manifestation
Recently, my hands have begun shaking, and after a while, it worried me because while the shaking isn't big, it’s not slight and seemingly always present. It’s become frustrating to do the usual little things in life that are supposed to be as easy as breathing. But, Tod w/ only one d, you’re getting old, even very old by some standards. They shake so badly that I refuse to write anything by hand for fear of not knowing where my hand will hit the paper. But then, I usually type things here on this keyboard, so it’s barely important. But my coffee, oh my beloved and much-needed coffee. It’s become a must-needed ritual for me to buy an espresso grind of coffee so that every day I may take the portafilter off my espresso machine, remove its basket, put the espresso grind in the basket, tamp it down until it’s compacted enough to make a good stout espresso so that I can add water to it and make my delicious, lovely, and much-desired daily Americano. So, putting the espresso grind into the basket has been made difficult by my hands shaking. I measure this as a shortfall of immeasurable magnitude. But, Tod, w/ only one d, you are getting old, I tell myself, with diminished comfort and no solace.
The Call for Honesty
But, Points of Light, there’s been talk on this blog about being fiercely honest. In fact, I’ve been the one to bring it up here time and time again. So, there’s some fierce honesty I need to confront within myself regarding this hand shaking. I need to do this for my emotional and intellectual well-being, which is to say, for my mental health. Although "mental health" feels like it doesn’t fully capture what people seeking therapy are truly after, the term "emotional and intellectual" health seems more inclusive of what the unflinching, raw pursuit of therapy is all about. So, as I’ve always been transparent with you where it concerns fierce honesty, I want to take you with me as I get real with both myself and you as to why my hands shaking is interfering with my making of my awesome big thermal cup of superbly delicious Americano.
The Suspected Cause
Honestly, I believe it’s called “the shakes.” Although I’ve not received a doctor’s diagnosis, having grown up with an alcoholic and in my past, having attended Alateen and AA meetings because of this issue with him, I’ve been aware of “the shakes” for over 50 years. It’s caused by the heavy drinking of alcohol, or as some derisively say with mean, judgmental voices, “LIQUOR!” I say I’m experiencing “the shakes” anecdotally, and I’m fine with doing so because I’m both drinking heavily and my hands are shaking. So, if my hands are shaking because I’m getting old, even very old by some standards, then fine, but this shaking has given me enough pause to look at myself and examine what’s going on with this need to drink.
The Inner Architecture
I am not built the best. I have known this for some time. I walk down the halls of who and what I am, and I notice one thing after another that is either broken, was never constructed correctly, or has been shabbily repaired. Do you remember I mentioned mental health as not being the best way to discuss what we do in our therapy sessions? If we are honest with ourselves when we approach our well-educated and highly trained professionals, to whom we lay bare our souls, we are sharing everything—everything we think and feel. Yes, as a man, I experience emotions, and as for myself, I experience very strong emotions. Having said that, again, for myself, I have spent most of my life avoiding my emotions, preferring to keep them walled away. Though, as one professional therapist asked me, "Tod, what good has that been doing for you?"
The Echoes of the Past
As I observe how I have been built, I realize the walls are thin. Locked in one of the rooms of this place, surrounded by four thin walls, are my damaged emotions. Because the walls are so thin, my intellectual self hears these emotions screaming angry, judgmental epithets at me, such as, "Tod, you are stupid," "Tod, you are an idiot," "Tod, you are unworthy of love," "Tod, you cannot do anything right." Thin walls allow us to hear things we wish we never had to hear, knowing most of it is ridiculous and untrue. However, after years of hearing these epithets, my intellect internalized them all, and I lived out those epithets. Now, I could blame the thin walls for this, or, from somewhere beyond this poorly constructed dwelling, I can hear a trained professional ask a question. With this question, my intellect can shift, and some of those tumultuous emotions can calm down or even be replaced by ones filled with light, color, and beauty, returning my thoughts to rationality and intelligence.
The Cycle of Regression
But, Points of Light, while we seek out those who can help us with our emotional and intellectual health, and when we allow ourselves to be completely honest as we lay bare everything, and while we begin to move away from the darkness of depression into the happy beauty of colorful light, sometimes we do not realize we can, and sometimes do, make a U-turn to walk right back into that darkness.
The Residence of Darkness
For me, returning to that darkness is where I reside in this poorly built place, where the walls are thin and my emotions scream their damaging messages at me, where my intellect internalizes them, and I live them out. Or is it? Why do my hands really shake?
The Numbing Effect
Alcohol can numb the voices heard from behind the thin walls. However, it also numbs other things: joy, happiness, laughter, words to write, wonderful thoughts to think, and positive feelings to feel, as well as light, color, and beauty, and the ambition it takes to experience all of it.
The Daily Ritual of Alcohol
For a couple of years now, I can say I have mostly drunk vodka every day, and of course, over time, I have needed more and more to reach the same state of numbness as when I first started drinking. That said, consistently drinking more and more alcohol, is one cause of "the shakes", and could be behind why my shaky hands try to defeat me when I make my exceptionally great Espresso.
The Question of Numbness
But why, I must ask, have I needed to numb myself? I suppose this question stems from something I did today. Today, I decided I had no idea how I felt, and not knowing what I might talk about with her, I decided I would not keep my appointment with my wonderful, well-educated, very professional therapist. Ironically, the VA called me to reschedule today's appointment because she could not be in her office. So, having not drunk vodka for a few days now, it felt like the confluence of these two things conspired for me to go to Starbucks and write. Writing is where I find the true nature of what my heart wants my mind to understand, and that is when I can, sometimes, or even many times, find light, color, and beauty in my life. So here I am, and my heart is talking pretty well so far, and luckily, the walls are much too thin.
The Consequence of Numbness
Numbness caused by alcohol can lead to tiredness, depression, and prevent heart smiles. When this numbness takes hold, even the brightest blue skies fail to serenade you with soft moving jazz standards, despite their desperate desire to do so. So, yes, it seems odd, or perhaps foolish, but as I sit here at Starbucks typing into this old Chromebook and listen to my heart, this is what it's telling me: The shaking hands, the vodka, the numbness—was this poorly built residence's way of forcing me to avoid not only the negative angry, negative, and destructive epithets, but also the positive heart smile a conspiring, beautiful sky can evoke with an accompanying wondrous and transcendent soft samba melody.
The Unfinished Story
It seems like this an imperfect place to end this story, but I think it's alright anyway. There's more to contemplate as I internalize the emotions my heart wants my intellect to process. Perhaps, though I'm unsure, there's more to follow at a later date.
Love and Peace
Tod w/ only one d
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