I’m lucky, countless people are far worse off than I am. One, in particular, is so bad off I’m not sure I could even get her a hard copy of this. She’s on my mind a lot, I’m sure there are a lot of people who you’re thinking about right now. I find it amazing how physically separated we all are yet so connected with everyone else through shared experience,...all across the globe.
I’m blessed, I’m strong, I’m loved. Strength, regardless of form, takes work and adversity. I’ve had my share; constant, sometimes near-fatal bouts with pneumonia, depression, anxiety, suicide, struggles with side effects of prescription drugs. I feel like the stronger I become dealing with my own personal demons, the more the world around me turns negative and more challenging. Every bit of mindfulness, every ounce of energy, every piece of perspective is met with more bad news. The start of 2020 has continued this trend. I still consider myself blessed and want to share a particular quote I feel everyone needs right now. One of the tools I employed in my own battles and I now use to stand up against the rapidly changing world around me.
I’ll preface this by saying that I know saying “Rick and Morty” comes with a certain stigma not unlike being a Trekkie or being into Dungeons and Dragons. Rick and Morty bring about visions of dorks rioting over very specific Mcdonalds dipping sauces and other embarrassing behavior. This rabid silliness kept me away from the show for half a decade. A lesson in prejudging, a book, a cover, all of that.
I should also make it clear I don't have the virus and, to the best of my knowledge, never carried it.
I’m not here to talk you into liking or even watching an episode, just absorb the quote and tolerate it. If not, you're one of the "booers" (we'll get to that) but trust me, I think it could help.
In this scene, Rick is being booed by between 3000 and 4000 intelligent beings. Rick is not a hero, in fact, he’s a pretty nefarious dude. My personal theory is that the same fanbase that’s paying $4500 for McNugget dipping sauce is also directing a little too much misguided admiration at Rick, causing the creators to lay on the “Rick is bad and does bad things” extra thick in the perpetually half-finished fourth season. I can't say I blame them. Who doesn't want to galavant about an infinite amount of timelines doing whatever they want and being a badass about it? Not to mention being "the smartest being in the galaxy".
The harsh truth we'll probably never know is the extreme price Rick pays for being Rick that only Rick will probably ever know and understand. Everyone wants to be as smart and as powerful as Rick, but I bet no one would want to stare down the demons he's dealing with. These demons have turned Rick into an alcoholic, nihilistic, family-tearing, grandson manipulating, destroyer of entire worlds. Therefore, who might be better to quote from when searching for strength than the guy constantly battling with Rick level inner demons?
One of my most-liked comments ever on twitter was when the official Rick and Morty account tweeted about a line before this one. The line goes something like, “boo all you want, I’ve seen what makes you cheer!” I pointed out that the line shortly after was my favorite and months later I still get ‘like’ notifications for it. For this reason, I know the power of this message. I know it can resonate with people, and I’m betting we could all use this.
On the surface, it appears to be Rick just being Rick, yelling at a room full of beings that don’t share the same interests as him. When this episode aired, the line immediately stood out to me; everyone has a room full of booing people (hopefully just metaphorically speaking), things they are struggling with whether they know it or not. Every time you take a step, click a mouse, or even just breathing you’re not letting your room of booers beat you.
Having originally been entirely metaphorical, these words now have taken on a literal sense for me. My immune disorder, something I’d been especially struggling with since last November, has had me on Prednisone ever since. Even the slightest hint of going off the stuff and the wheezing gets worse, the breaths get shorter and the familiar taste of bronchitis returns, but as Rick level evil as Prednisone is, it kicks just as much ass, helps keep me breathing and each breath counts. These breaths come one after another, like compound interest they just keep piling up, and the idea your struggle has to go another round should indeed raise your self-esteem. You may not win the fight, but at least force the judges to make a decision.
During the course of the year, I’ve undergone a battery of tests; in the process,every file and medical note regarding my lifelong struggle with Asthma and Pneumonia was printed out. The end result was a phone book thick pile of papers I lugged all the way to Nebraska Medical Center in Omaha. Reading the first entry was a trip for me. Dated 1983, the report looks like it was typed with an actual typewriter and very well may have been. The young me they are describing is the same age as my son, who shares the same name as me. This battle has been going on since before Coach Osborne went for two. Yet….I kept breathing, one breath at a time. I have a family, I have a job, I contribute to society, despite booers who told me I wouldn’t.
The threat of the virus and it's respiratory nature sent me home from work about two weeks earlier than everyone else. Something unprecedented at the time. People think working from home is great, and I’m not going to lie and say it doesn’t have it’s upsides. Being so close to my family, no commute etc., but I feel it’s a bit like getting water from the same river you’re defecating in. You never really feel like you’re fully away from work, and during work you never fully feel at home. You exist in this sort of in-between place I've never really gotten used to. I knew this already. I had worked from home at both previous jobs, but never for two weeks straight. I knew it would be tough, but I also knew working from home was the smart thing to do.
The abruptness of it… one Monday I went to work, the next day I was logging in from my bedroom. That’s how the world moves now. Try and name something that isn’t affected by ‘it’....but fuck ‘it’, because you have to keep breathing.
I use the word ‘it’ because I’m tired of hearing the word, it’s overuse and constant reminders, both right in front of us all or across the globe are always there. I don’t want to give it the satisfaction.
No one knows what the future holds, most likely the world has changed forever, but the breaths you’ve taken, they can’t be taken back, you’ve existed, we’ve existed and with every single inhale we notch a point in the good guy column.
I should pump the breaks here a bit. Sure it’s great to take on your struggles, but it’s another to go out looking for bears to poke. If you’re not careful, you could end up like Rick: alcoholic, extremely depressed and making enemies in every reality you portal yourself into.
With moderation in mind, we step back to me as a child,....many, many breaths ago if you will. I was extremely shy, hiding behind my parents, exhibiting antisocial behavior even at Thanksgiving. “Andy would it kill you to be a little social?” I was mature for my age and lacked patience with those around me. While other kids were playing, I was constantly worried about the onset of nuclear war or alien invasion (thanks National Enquirer). While other kids collected G.I. Joes and got better at Mario than I ever will. I was worrying about stepping outside in ten years and immediately getting skin cancer from a completely depleted ozone layer. I was more afraid of global warming in Predator 2 and Robocop than any ridiculous amount of bloodshed or cloaking aliens. In retrospect, I think these unfounded fears were what would later become my issues with anxiety. In the meantime, Nuclear war never came, neither did the alien invasion of 1994 as predicted by National Enquirer and I never got skin cancer. I kept breathing, breathing through my fears, my successes, my triumphs, my struggles.
My mom patiently told me over and over again that the National Enquirer was full of shit and reassured me about all my other worries. Don’t listen to the booers, listen to your mother, mine was right about the alien invasion and countless other things... if your mom is one of your booers you can borrow mine, she's awesome.
At the same time though, my mom had worries of her own for me. She was concerned about my extreme shyness and even arranged playdates and sleepovers on my behalf. Looking back I can’t understand why I was so concerned with what people thought. The older I get the less the opinions of others matter to me. I’ve said this before, so If I’ve said it in this blog before please forgive me, but I think once you have your own family, your own cliche, you don’t worry about fitting in because you have your own tribe to return home to at the end of the day. That’s just my theory. Yes, some people are going to boo you, but you can’t waste your energy on them. Focus on those very few who matter. Think about what a small number of people that is, the people who matter to you most versus the seven billion or so on the planet, pretty small number huh? I’m not saying dislike everyone out of the gate, I’m saying don’t waste your breath on someone who is booing you.
Yes, tomorrow is my birthday, the odometer is about to roll over, but over the last few years I’ve celebrated my birthday harder and harder. I take no breath "for granite"* and neither should you. So for my birthday do me a favor, share this blog with everyone who isn’t booing you, everyone that needs to hear it and we can all celebrate every single breath we take together.
*sorry I couldn’t resist at least one R&M reference
Last Updated: 3/29/2020 11:29 AM