Existentialism

I wrote something the other day and I shared it with a friend who is a published author/writer that I have come to really admire. Whether he likes it or not, he’s my current mentor in my new found love for writing. He told me sharing what I’ve wrote is far above an Instagram or facebook post, and that I should start compiling short essays and eventually turn it into a book. Starting tonight, Im going to begin to share my story with you, because pen and paper just can’t keep up with my thoughts as they come to me. Read it or don’t. These daily/nightly posts will be my reference for if/when I decide to write my book. I’m just inviting you all on the ride. Buckle up, it gets weird.

The Jon Lavezzo Essays…
Night 1.

I used to have to have a Xanax to leave my house. My thoughts of impending doom never really subsided from age 13 until just recently in my mid 40’s. My fear of having a panic attack was giving me panic attacks. Yeah. Imagine that. They diagnosed me with panic disorder, PTSD, and depression. Pills at sunrise, pills at sunset. A keychain pill holder to carry a back up Xanax “just in case”. Just numb me until I’m so drugged up that I can’t feel anything at all.

Want to know what is scarier than a full blown panic attack? The realization that you might have spent the last 31 years preparing for a crisis that never even happened. Sure, a few panic attacks a year are not fun… but whats worse is the fear that you spent the days God has given you, as an idle drunkard fearing his own existence.

An existential crisis almost took me out this past spring. Yes, I had been sober from alcohol for a good few months at that time… but it occurred to me one day that life really doesn’t make much sense if you tried to explain it to someone… kind of like trying to explain how a panic attack or depression feels like to a doctor. What are you going to say? So, there’s this round object with other round objects near it. One of those round objects has “life” on it. The other round objects don’t have anything on them. So explain “life” Jon? Hmm… good luck with that one buddy. Meat covered skeletons with names that have “sex” to create more meat covered skeletons to create a “family”. Well, what is a family or sex? You see what I mean? Trying to explain life sounds absolutely ridiculous when you break it all down. Hell, I probably sound mentally unhinged even trying to explain it. And here we are, doing it every day, most of us never really questioning its meaning besides relying on religion to make it somehow make some sort of sense.

Back to my existential crisis… yes, it almost took me out. It was like I was suddenly awakened by this dread that everything I had done in my life, my family, all the material shit I own, by businesses I’ve created, my hobbies… none of it mattered because I simply could not comprehend the concept of life itself. That’s fucking rock bottom… at least it felt like that. I contemplated selling all my stuff, my house on the water I worked so hard for, even my most prized possessions no longer meant a damn thing to me. It occurred to me that my thoughts are merely chemical reactions in my brain that make me feel love, anger, anxiety and sadness. I contemplated drinking again, but knew that would most definitely signal the end of my life… basically giving up. Although I was locked in this new world where I questioned everything, a part of me realized (after a bunch of research on existential crises) that what I was actually experiencing was a form of spiritual awakening and enlightenment.

I had three choices.
-Drink away the bad thoughts and probably die in my 40’s and never see my daughter get married.

-Live reliant on benzodiazepines (Xanax) to keep the intrusive thoughts away and essentially numb myself to the point of not even being able to work.

-Try to understand what was going on in my head, embrace it, and learn to accept this life as one big playground/adventure.

The only reason I’m writing this tonight is because I chose the third option… because even though i was trapped in this cycle of bad thoughts and “what if’s”, I still had my moments of clarity (mostly in the evening hours) where I would think about my kids and all the people who I’d let down if I chose the first two options above. There were still things in my life that I felt joy doing. Good sex, being on my boat, watching my daughter or son laugh, the beauty of a sun setting and the sound of crickets and frogs filling the night air. It was the only time of day I felt anything; peace, love, HOPE.

Tonight, as I lay here in bed, I can finally say I’m glad I went through this crisis.
I will also say, I would not wish it upon anyone.

What I eventually found as time went by was no longer fear and depression… I found pure, unrestrained freedom. After all, if nothing were to really matter, what is there to be afraid of or worry about?!

It happened so suddenly, just over a few days time and I was in a rabbit hole in my own head. It was like a bad movie that I couldn’t unsee. I had changed. As I slowly started feeling more and more comfortable with my new “normal”, I started doing things I would have never have even thought about doing years earlier out of pure fear. Fact is, A LOT matters after all. And in some fucked up way, it all really does make sense.

Come back tomorrow for Night 2. It gets even more interesting 🤔.”