Someone With a Pen: Richard Grayson’s Diary

Tuesday, February 13, 2001

3 PM. It’s a chilly, rainy afternoon as a cold front has come through: another in a series of cold fronts from the Pacific that’s been making this a wet and less-than-warm Phoenix winter – or so people are saying. The weather has changed totally from when I left for Susan’s office at 12:40 PM.

We had a good session. I told her I’ve been thinking that I should stop telling others about my anxiety because people don’t understand generalized anxiety disorder and wonder why I can’t just “buck up” or ignore the symptoms or do something to change my life.

In the end, Susan suggested I stop thinking of myself as a person with GAD and said I should probably stop talking about it, so I guess we’re on the same wavelength.

I need to get more relaxation tapes because they lose their potency after a while. Although I try to do relaxation and breathing exercises and other cognitive-behavioral tricks, they’re all so time-consuming that I end up just doing the best I can.

I read the first part of Worry, which seems like a good book, and it made me reflect on my past. I was always anxious, it seems – though it’s hard to know what role my genes have played in it and how much my environment and upbringing did to influence me. But I’ve always kept myself in a “comfort zone.”

I didn’t discuss my fear of success in today’s session with Susan, but I know that particular fear is at least part of the reason I’ve never tried to write a novel or pass the bar exam.

Last night I slept okay but not great; I fell asleep for bits at 8:30 PM and 9:30 PM, but mostly I slept from 11 PM to 5 AM with frequent interruptions. I had to use the tapes a lot to fall back asleep.

My palms were sweaty soon after I awoke this morning. By now that’s almost a Pavlovian response, and it does go away after a while.

While I had some anxiety, I was also drowsy, perhaps from the 1 mg. of Klonopin I took last night. I’ve decided to put off worrying about getting addicted to Klonopin until the time when I need to get off it.

Susan said that some of the things I do that I call obsessive-compulsive, like putting out my clothes for the next day, may be constructive. But obviously a lot of isn’t, and I’ve got to make choices about keeping the behavior that’s valuable and letting go of what’s not. I think I can do that because I’m not really a person with OCD.

This morning I got to MCC early and went on the computer. In an email, Steve Kowit said I should probably be writing more and taking meds less. That kind of advice isn’t helpful, and it’s one reason I should probably not tell people about my anxiety.

I xeroxed the magazine analysis and went over it with my class, along with a New York Times article about the tensions in the workplace between thirty-something Gen Xers and their Gen Y colleagues in their early twenties, as I figure that may be what they’ll be facing in their careers. I also gave back everyone’s graded papers at the end of class.

There was a note on my door saying that Kate Gale will be giving a poetry reading in my classroom at 1 PM on Friday. Apparently, Kate attended MCC at one time.

I had planned to see her at Changing Hands on Friday night, but this might be better, especially since Susan and I decided I could wait another week for an appointment.

Yesterday I was sure I was coming down with a cold, but now I don’t have any symptoms. Maybe all those zinc lozenges actually made the cold disappear, or more likely, I wasn’t sick in the first place. Anyway, I no longer have a sore throat.

When I got home from MCC this morning, I lay down under the covers for an hour before doing Body Electric, taking a shower and calling Sat Darshan.

She’d phoned late yesterday but said not to call her at home because she and Ravinder were fighting, and he’s fighting with Gurudaya. I don’t know their family’s internal problems, but I think Ravinder won’t let Sat Darshan use the money to take Kiran to India, as she’s been dreaming of doing for months.

Sat Darshan is very unhappy and stressed out. That’s probably one reason she considers my problems a diversion from her own.

I went to Starbucks for iced tea and read the news section of the Times. Both a little jittery and drowsy at the same time, I find it hard to concentrate the way I used to. But skimming a lot of articles may prove a positive thing to do in the long run because instead of concentrating on the news, I can spend more time on myself, my recovery and my personal growth – as well as on my schoolwork.

JCPenney seems to have my glasses and clips ready.

Mom said Mary Beth picked Marc up at the airport in order to show him something at the store he needs to know because she’s being transferred to Denver tomorrow. Later in the day, Dad took Marc to pick up his car.

I finished my reading for Wednesday’s classes and I also handed in my second module, on Native Americans, for the Multicultural Film class Afterwards, I did the overview exam last evening, and today was the deadline for the first journal. I enjoy doing the assignments for this class, and if I can finish everything early, I’ll have a lot more free time to devote to teaching and to my Pre-Columbian Theater class, which is a lot more dreary.

Tomorrow I have my blind date with Andrew, and while I told Susan that I’m a little nervous about it, the chances I’ll connect with him are tiny.

Susan said people 50 and older are much less willing to subject themselves to dating or even joining groups to meet people socially.

I shouldn’t put myself down, but I don’t feel I’m very attractive, either physically or personality-wise. I’m going to try not to talk so much with Andrew.

At the very least, it should be a little diversion.

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Wednesday, February 14, 2001

6 PM. I got the chills now. Of course, it’s 48° and I only just put on the heat, and I also just finished half a cup of diet ice cream.

Today was rainy again, and it feels freezing to me. My right hands thumb and index finger have split by the nail again because of the cold.

Our normal high should be 71°, but I just look at the U.S. weather map and see the 83° high and the 67° low in Miami and feel I would like to be back there – even if I did find it humid at first, as Marc did during his vacation.

Last night at this time I was watching Sayonara for the Asian-American section of our film class. The movie wasn’t bad, and I wrote my journal entry on it this afternoon.

The only film I have left to see is The Mask of Fu Manchu, and I need to write the overview exams in the Asian and Latino units of the course.

Professor Newcomer said he prefers people finish the class early and he gave me the full 250 points on my first journal and exam.

I fell asleep early last night and soon woke up, but basically I slept soundly from 10 PM to 5 AM without using tapes.

I had a nice dream in which I won an NEA creative writing fellowship and another in which I entered apartment 155 (this number, but in a New York City-style building) and heard voices inside. Scared at first, I felt relieved and then delighted to see that in the apartment were Grandma Sylvia, Grandma Ethel and Great-Grandma Bessie.

Soon after I got up, my palms and the soles of my feet began sweating. Susan said that might be a leftover response from when I was more anxious; anyway, it does go away fairly soon.

I had a nice early morning class though I had to collect the papers to grade.

In my mailbox, I found my student evaluations for last term. Although I started to get depressed when I saw some negative comments, the summary pages gave me decent scores on most stuff, so I threw the big envelopes away without reading them further. Why should I care?

Well, of course, because I want everyone to love me and wonder about the one student who gave me a failing grade on everything. But I know you can’t please everybody.

Another thing that bothered me today is that on the Valentine Publishing Group website, I couldn’t find my book listed in the catalog. However, it is on the catalog of Red Hen Press. Am I paranoid to wonder if Kate and Mark hate me?

Well, I’ll attend Kate’s reading and get an opinion as to what kind of person she is before I go up and introduce myself and see how she reacts.

After my second class ended at 10:30 AM, I had a hard time finding Andrew, but basically we connected.

We went to Einstein Bagels on University and Rural and chatted for over an hour. He’s slightly cute, but I found him a little boring.

I asked him about his dissertation, which he’s defending in April, and I told him I’m sure he’ll get a job as a college professor in his field.

I didn’t want to answer his questions about teaching English because I don’t care about it much and find it boring. Still, I didn’t think I gave off negative vibes. In the end, I took the initiative and said I’d like to see him again and asked what he thought.

He said he’d be really busy and then resorted to what was probably the truth: he didn’t feel any chemistry between us.

Afterwards, I didn’t feel anywhere nearly as badly as I did in October with that Korean guy at Borders. I understand that I’m a lot older than Andrew is, and we’re in different places in our lives.

Maybe I made him feel good by letting him think I wanted to see him more than I actually did.

The truth is, I don’t really feel like a relationship. Even though – unlike when I was on Paxil – I again have sexual feelings, they are not that strong. Even when I jerk off, I have weak orgasms and a hard time keeping an erection.

But I didn’t feel any anxiety with Andrew, so just getting out and meeting someone for a blind date was probably a triumph, given how I’ve been feeling – especially because I didn’t mention my anxiety at all.

It didn’t bother me that today was Valentine’s Day, though of course it would have been nice to connect with Andrew. He’d had a boyfriend at ASU, a guy who he met living next door. That’s the way to do it, I guess.

I don’t think I’ll ever really have an intense sexual or romantic relationship again, but if one comes along, it will be such a nice surprise that I’ll treasure it, as I did my short relationship with Gianni.

Right now I have no personal ads online, and that’s fine with me. I’ve got to work on myself and I don’t really feel I have time to give of myself to another person until I’m feeling better.

At home, I had more to eat and then went to the library to return Sayonara – maybe someone in my class will want it next – mail some bill payments and deposit the $1,246 refund check that ASU sent.

I went to bed for an hour – I guess the full 1 mg. dose of Klonopin at night makes me sleepy – and then I did aerobics, read the Times, showered, and went online to do my journal entry on Sayonara.

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Friday, February 15, 2001

5:30 PM. I feel exhausted at the end of another week. But I did sleep well last night despite an unexpected nightmare about the mugging exactly four weeks after the night it happened.

I left earlier than usual for ASU since I wanted to return The Mask of Fu Manch to Hollywood Video before parking my car in Lot 44.

As I have nearly every day since the term began, I was dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, sweater, my heaviest Phoenix winter jacket – it’s not heavy enough for the Northeast, but it’s denim and thick and has a hood – and gloves.

It was supposed to warm up a bit today, but our high was only about 60°, way below normal, and the expected weekend highs around 70° now apparently won’t materialize.

Maybe it’s because of my depression, but I don’t recall a single month here in Phoenix when I haven’t been too hot or too cold. Perhaps at the worst of my anxiety and depression in October, I didn’t notice the one decent month of weather.

I’m really scared about moving back to South Florida, but I did like the weather there most of the year, and somehow I got used to the heat and humidity.

I guess I didn’t realize how much it would change my life when my parents left Florida. Mom and Dad regret the move, I know, but they won’t move back because they feel they’re too old.

If I could view their house as the kind of base I did when they were in Fort Lauderdale, things might be different.

But now that they’ve got the sectional, I can’t move my bed or a convertible sofa into their living room, and there’s really no place for me to stay in the house in Apache Junction.

That’s probably for the best. I’m pretty sure Marc will not go to Denver although Mary Beth is trying to get him a job there.

I think I have to leave Phoenix, But I can’t really think about that now. I’ve just got to keep moving on my recovery.

When well-meaning writer friends like Susan Ludvigson or Steve Kowit ask me what I’m writing these days or tell me that I should be writing – I feel that just getting through each day takes all the energy I have.

I was one of half a dozen people who attended Kate Gale’s reading at Mesa Community College, in my own classroom at 1 PM to 2:45 PM.

I didn’t introduce myself to her until the end, when she acted very friendly and said she hadn’t even been aware I was living in Arizona.

Kate, who brought along her daughter, was introduced by the English Department’s resident poet (of course he didn’t know me and I didn’t know him), read some quite nice poems and a decent chapter from one of her novels.

She was very patient with the audience members’ questions. Clearly, the students who attended were all would-be writers who are totally clueless. Kate gave them long replies and treated everyone seriously.

Kate told me she teaches five classes at Cal State Dominguez Hills, which is in Carson, near Compton, as well as four classes at community colleges.

Despite that heavy schedule, she’s also working on her Ph.D. at Claremont and still manages to write all these poems and novels.

What wasn’t mentioned at the reading was her involvement with Red Hen Press, which has published all her books.

If Kate was at MCC and ASU as a student in the mid-1980s (“when ecstasy was big”), she came to this field years after I did. She’s got the kind of energy and enthusiasm I once had – plus she’s a great networker and self-promoter.

I felt okay about Kate. She’s obviously not the cold fish she appeared to be – but her reading and the question-and-answer session afterwards left me feeling a bit down.

I hate to keep bringing up my age – I could only get Alice’s machine today to again wish her a happy 50th birthday – but I feel a lot different than Tom Whalen or maybe Rick Peabody, who are still very involved in the writing biz.

Either I’ve got no ambition left or I wonder why I should bother to write when the rewards I’ve gotten from it haven’t been satisfactory.

Maybe if I’d made money or gotten a job where I could have had a lot of security, things would be different. Of course, I never wanted security; I opted for adventure and now I’m paying the price.

Is it the depression and anxiety that’s made me feel this way, or is it that I began college teaching 26 years ago, had my first story published that same year, and my first – and only commercially – published book came out in the late 1970s?

Whatever mistakes I made in my professional life, it’s obvious that nothing is going to save me now. Maybe I should have concentrated on my other “careers” like computer education or law – but it’s too late to undo old decisions now.

Coming to ASU made me realize that it’s too late in my life to get into journalism – and that I don’t really want to.

Well, we can go over this a zillion times. I need to get involved in something I’m passionate about – like multiculturalism or helping gay teens or whatever.

My classes went okay today, and I told my students I’d be in on Monday for Presidents’ Day for conferences, but they could take off the holiday if they wanted to.

So on Monday and Tuesday, I have three classes of conferences, and if people don’t show up I can use the time to grade any papers that I don’t get to this weekend.

I told Kate that I’ll try to get to Changing Hands tonight, but I’m really tired already and I haven’t taken my Klonopin or Serzone yet.

At times today I felt a bit antsy, but basically I was all right, more drowsy than anxious. The truth is I feel ready for bed.