A New Rebel

        This is my third time in Burlington, Vermont. The first time I visited was over twenty years ago. My band in college, The Albino Skunks, traveled from Philadelphia in a rented Winnebago and did three shows in the northeast during a week off from Villanova. I suppose it was my first rock ‘n’ roll tour. It didn’t disappoint.
         This time, I’m here because I’m chasing a snow storm. Just like I did when I came up here with principessa in December of 2007. It was a more spontaneous decision this time around. I had to be in Boston, for business and pleasure, on Tuesday. When I heard that a storm was coming north, I packed my bags and threw them in the car before I left. While in the city, I went on the web and did some weather research, trying to determine who was going to get walloped the worst. Because that’s where I was headed. My instinct for snow is rivaled only by my passion for it.
         I’m certainly the only person at the Sheraton Burlington, and probably the only person in town, who’s here solely because it’s supposed to snow. My situation is therefore unique. But that’s usually the case. When anybody that I meet asks me what I’m doing up here, or anywhere else that I chase a storm, my answer often baffles them. “Are you a skier?”, they ask. I tell them “Yes, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because there’s going to be a storm and I want to be a part of it.” They usually reply “Oh!”, which is undoubtedly more polite than what they’re probably thinking.
         As I explained in my first post about my obsession with snow, Confessions Of A Blizzard Junkie, I just love to be where there’s a snow storm. But I realized something at exactly 6:34 this morning as I went down to the lobby to grab a coffee. My life is flexible enough that I can do this when I want to. That’s incredibly rare. That’s a unique situation. And it’s a metaphor for how I see myself. And of how I want to be seen.
         I like to think of myself as unique. As different. For better and worse, a rare specimen. And maybe I’m afraid that if my life were more “ordinary”, that if my life wasn’t such that I could take off and chase a storm, that I would cease to be so unique. That I would be less different. That I would be just like everybody else. And if that’s the case, then how much is the fear of being common keeping me from taking on more responsibility and more commitment? More of what everybody else seems to be doing.
         In a way, freedom has become somewhat of a prison. Just as the walls of responsibility and commitment can limit freedom, and could keep me from doing something I wanted to, the walls of freedom can limit my ability to commit and take on responsibility, and can prevent me from doing something I want to. A big exciting project, say, that involves lots of time but also limits my flexibility. And because I tend to polarize, it becomes an all or nothing type of deal. So I become unwilling to give up anything. But in reality, what I’m giving up is what I really want to do. I’m giving up that time consuming project that excites me. Which is a big something.
         My mercurial nature is a part of whatever boyish charm I possess. I’m afraid if I lose that, I lose a part of myself. Again, it’s a polarization. I look at it as a zero sum game. If I gain something (responsibility and commitment), I have to lose something (freedom). If I tackle the big project, I loose flexibility. If I become too much of an adult, I’ll lose my boyish charm.
         Being an extremist is how I made sense of the environment I grew up in. So little made any sense to me unless I put it in terms of good or bad, black or white, adult or child, saint or satan. I don’t have to do that anymore, but I still sometimes do. I know that way of looking at things doesn’t serve me anymore, and I’m changing it. But it’s a hard road.
         I’ve been blessed with opportunity and freedom, and I’ve therefore lead a very interesting life. Most of it I chose consciously, because I’ve practiced self-awareness for many years. I know I’m different, and I’ve chosen to express it. I’ve chosen to live it. But some of my choices to lead a different life have been unconscious reactions. They’ve been rebellions against not doing what everybody else was doing. The problem with rebellion is that the rebel doesn’t necessarily do what he wants to do. He just makes damn sure he doesn’t do what everyone else does.
         I’ve done a lot of work on myself around this issue. My heart has opened up and revealed much to me. So I’m in a different place now, and I’m negotiating my way around this exposed area. I’m trying to make the unconscious conscious and ask myself what exactly do I want. If I can create the type of life I really want, then I don’t have to frame it in terms of either/or. I can change the paradigm of the zero sum game. I can move the whole continuum to a new plane, to a new level of consciousness. I can change my old way of polarizing it. Then it doesn’t become a matter of freedom vs. commitment, or anything vs. anything. It simply becomes living the life I want and doing what makes me happy.
         I know, because of my nature, because of who I am, that my life is naturally and without pretension going to look very different from most people’s. It’s going to be somewhat lunatic fringe, because I’m somewhat lunatic fringe. But it’s also going to look similar to many people’s lives in some ways too. And that won’t be a bad thing to me anymore. I don’t have to judge that. I don’t have to make that mean that I’m just like everybody else. I don’t have to unconsciously rebel. I can just be me. One-hundred percent Clint. Every moment.
         In our society, being fully yourself is plenty rebellious enough. And what makes me truly me comes from the inside. It’s born within me and naturally manifests itself in the outside world if I simply honor it; if I live from that core place. I know how to do that. I don't do it every single moment, but it's what I aspire to. If I simply continue to do that, then my life will be unique. My life will remain unique. I will remain unique, because there’s no one like me.
         And ironically, that’s precisely what’s the same about each of us...

©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and a rebellious amount of Wrongs) Reserved.

Prescriptions For Disaster (part 2)

        During the tenure of my last relationship, I was coming out of the most painful period of my adult life. Nine months before I met principessa, my father died. I had also experienced a slew of other losses in a short period of time, which I’ve written about in this blog (you can read more about this by going to the category My Dark Ages).
         The pain from those losses was poisoning my mind, heart, and body. Instead of feeling all that pain, however, I anesthesized myself to it. I effectively wrote my own internal “prescriptions” that would numb me to the world of hurt living inside of me.
         I’m not blaming myself for why my relationship with principessa didn’t work. But I am owning my part of it. She had her own prescriptions, different than mine, but just as destructive. That’s usually how it works - when it doesn’t work. We each do the dance we’re used to. We each take the prescriptions we’ve written for ourselves. If we recognize what we’re doing, that we’re building walls instead of bridges, and want to do it differently, we can. If not, we just repeat old patterns. And sometimes even create some new ones.
         All these prescriptions were created and taken to avoid pain. Pain of the past. And the projected pain of the future, in the form of potential rejection and abandonment.
         So without further ado, here they are. Clint Piatelli’s personal Prescriptions For Disaster in his last relationship:

1) Shut down emotionally, as a reaction to a bludgeoning series of huge losses.

2) Go into depression. In other words, turn all that pain and anger back in on yourself.

3) Meet a beautiful woman, fall in love with her right away, but not know it because you’re on prescriptions one and two.

4) The more you feel, the more scared you get. Increase dosages of prescriptions one and two.

5) Hold onto your anger, but be ashamed of it. So instead of moving through you, the anger stays inside and keeps you perpetually frustrated. Then, once in a while, blow up.

6) Unconsciously say and do things to keep the woman you love from getting too close, all the while beating yourself up for not being able to fully express yourself. This self-sustaining cycle perpetually reinforces itself until you feel like there’s no way out. Occasionally consider jumping into on-coming traffic.

7) Let her know you’re sad, but never, ever, let her in on just how much you hate yourself. Because then she’ll leave you, you miserable lout, and then you’re really fucked. But keep hating yourself. It’s good for you.

8) Only let your intense passion for her come out in the bedroom. It’s safe for you there, because that’s the only place on you know who you are and what you want.

9) Unconsciously renew your vow never to fall too hard for a woman because of how badly you got burned from your first love. Tell yourself that love is like money. Always get just a little more than you give, that way you’ll never be in the red. Hide some away where nobody can find it too, in case there’s a run on the bank.

10) Operate at about 60% most of the time. That is, minimize everything, because it’s safer that way. Never let her see you too much of anything - including excited or happy - because that’s showing too much of yourself. And that’s dangerous. Besides, you’re no good anyway.

         Some of those prescriptions I’d been on in other relationships, and others were unique to this last one. But I had never been on so many, or taken them as much. That’s because of where I was at in my life. And because of how deeply I felt for her, and therefore how positively petrified I was. I actually invented prescriptions (without consultation, mind you) because whatever I was on wasn’t enough. She kept touching me, and when I started to feel too much, I reacted by either increasing the dose of something I was already on or just creating a new prescription from scratch. I was like a mad scientist, concocting all sorts of noxious, dangerous chemicals in the labs of my psyche just so that I wouldn’t get hurt.
        Eventually, after she broke my heart, I opened up. I fired that crazy chemist inside of me who was doping me up to keep me from feeling. Thank god. That guy was killing me.

©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and another medicine cabinet full of Wrongs) Reserved

Prescriptions For Disaster (part 1)

        Emotional coping mechanisms, if left unexamined, eventually become psychological addictions. Say, for example, I’m hurt, and as a way to deal with the pain, I just emotionally shut down. If I continue to do that, and never look at the behavior, then sooner or later that’s what I'll automatically do whenever I get hurt. My response to pain therefore becomes a knee-jerk reaction, an unconscious decision, that I make without even knowing it.
         I did this for years, particularly after my dad died. I know there are lots of us out there, especially men, who handle pain by getting angry, or shutting down our feelings, or both. Those coping mechanisms work. That’s why we keep doing them. They shut out the pain. But like all pathological defense systems, they come at a huge price.
         Ultimately, they cost us ourselves. 
         Imagine that I could pop a pill every time I felt pain. Well that’s exactly what shutting down is like. Instead of feeling and dealing, I just stop feeling. Kind of like popping a “don’t feel pill”. I did this so often that I became “addicted” to that “pill”; I automatically shut down and put up a wall whenever I got hurt. Or sometimes, I’d get mad, then put up the wall.
         Shutting down is just one coping mechanism, and it happened to be my “drug of choice”. There are plenty of others: denying that we’re hurt, blaming the other person, passive aggressive behavior. Most of us employ one or more when we get hurt.
         The big problem is that these coping mechanisms are like prescription drugs: if we use them too often, we get hooked. Then we can’t stop using them when we’re in pain, because we react automatically, and it’s all we know. The result can be devastating to our relationships: with ourselves, with those we’re intimate with, and with anybody we love.
         That’s why I call these coping mechanisms Prescriptions For Disaster.
         And, just like in our physical bodies, our emotional health will become severely compromised if we’re hooked on one or more of these prescriptions.
         Clearing our emotional lives of these prescriptions parallels the process we would use to rid ourselves of them physically. And since your partner is probably on something too, it’s best to do it together.
         First, you both have to admit that you’re hooked. You have to admit that, when you get hurt, you automatically reach for something else, instead of reaching inside and for each other. That’s a feat in itself, because it means coming out of denial. It means owning your part in a destructive process.
         It’s always good to know what the meds are for. Unfortunately, with emotional prescriptions, there’s no writing on the bottle to tell you. So you have to do some soul searching and figure out why you’re taking what you’re taking. This step can actually wait until later. The “why” right now is far less important than owning the fact that you’re on something. And ultimately, we’re all taking them for the same reason: to stop the pain.
         After you’ve owned that you’re hooked, no small feat mind you, you have to become willing to give up, or at least wean off of, the prescriptions. That means you both commit to start doing it differently. You both agree that, when one or both of you get hurt, you don’t reach for the meds. Instead, you risk feeling the pain. Then you risk expressing it. So that you can both work it out.
         This is where the rubber meets the road. It means you have be introspective, self-aware, vulnerable, courageous, honest, and maybe even get some form of therapy. That’s a lot of work. But it’s absolutely essential if you’re going to get off of those meds and stop poisoning your own body and the body of your relationship.
         Since I’ve stopped shutting down, I’ve had to feel again. Sometimes, I don’t know if I can keep doing it. I’m amazed at how much pain is still inside of me, even after all the work I’ve done. But I’m committed to this path. Even if at times I wish I could go back to shutting down again. And sometimes I do. But it never lasts too long. Eventually, I snap out of it and start feeling again. And my life opens up once more.
         Tomorrow, I’ll present to you my own very personal Prescriptions For Disaster in my last relationship.

©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and a medicine cabinet full of Wrongs) Reserved.

Thank You I'm Sorry

        Recently, I came across a poem I had written to an ex-girlfriend after we broke up. I remember the poem taking me all of five minutes to write. But that wasn’t because I didn’t have much to say, or because I didn’t care. Exactly the opposite. It was very painful for me, and the words came gushing out of me along with the tears.
        When I’m able to write that quickly, I feel less like a writer and more like a conduit. Expression and emotion flow through me and out into the world effortlessly. I know the words are mine, but at the same time, they feel as though they’re not coming from me; they’re just passing through.
        Maybe that’s what being truly connected feels like. When I’m truly connected to my heart, I’m also truly connected to divine source. So I’m at once a unique individual and part of everything in creation. The words are mine, but they also belong to everyone, and to the source itself. Is that zen?
        One reason I’m sharing this is because I am completely creatively blocked right now, and I’m trying to harken back to a definitive moment when I had clarity. Like I did when I wrote this poem.

©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights Reserved.

Toe Cuffs

        Before Christmas, I bought a new keychain. This keychain has attached to it a pair of toe cuffs. Also known as thumb cuffs. But I prefer calling them the former, because I have a foot fetish. I’m not prejudice though. I’ll use them on either.
        When I bought the keychain, I thought to myself “There are probably more than a few people who would like to buy this, but won’t, because they don't want anybody to know that they’re into this kind of thing.”. Obviously, I’m not one of those people. But I understand the sentiment.
        I’m not saying that you need to let the world know what you’re into. But you needn’t be ashamed of it either. That’s one half of my point. Whatever turns you on doesn’t have to be anybody’s business but yours, and whoever you’re with. And that’s the second half of my point. There are so many people who don’t let their partner know what really drives them wild.
        I realized a long time ago that an important part who I am, an important aspect of being fully myself, has to do with my sexuality. Because so much of human energy is sexual, to deny that which arouses us is to deny a large part of ourselves. And nowhere in human psychology do people have more hang-ups than between the sheets. Our inhibitions are alive and well everywhere in our lives. In the bedroom, they’re usually kicking and screaming. I honestly believe that sexual repression is one of those “silent killers” in many relationships.
        It’s an understatement to say that we’re not encouraged to be ourselves, to fully be who we are, by our society or our culture. Conformity is far more important than individuality or unique self expression. Nowhere is this truer than when it comes to sex. Only recently has there been a broader acceptance of behavior that was considered “sexually deviant” only a few decades ago. Before the sexual revolution, unless you were completely vanilla, you were labeled, at best bohemian, and at worst, perverted.
        We’ve come a long way, baby. But a choking sexual conservatism is still very much a part of american culture. Especially if you get away from the coast and the big cities. And if you start throwing religion into the mix, what’s deemed acceptable sexual behavior can become even more restricted.
        I say, to both sexes, let it all hang out. To do that, however, you have to know what you’re hanging (no male prejudice intended). You have to know what you’re into. And you can only do that if you accept, without shame, that which sets you ablaze. If you start judging what rocks your boat, your boat won’t get rocked.
        There are some great books that offer in-depth analysis of the psychology of sex, of why we’re into what we’re into. Better yet are books that discuss particular fetishes and sub-cultures. The reason these books are helpful is because they discuss “that which turns us on” not as deviant behavior, but as healthy sexual self expression. They effectively help people give themselves permission to like what they like. They help us be more ourselves, because they can teach us to accept ourselves. And I know that human sexuality is an exquisitely beautiful and complex phenomenon that has more than enough room for everybody.
        When I was much younger, there was a certain apprehension to exposing some of my more than vanilla turn-ons to partners. It didn’t last long, but it was there. Luckily, my drive to get my rocks off in the most stratospheric way possible always outweighed my reluctance to say what I was into. So, once trust was established, instead of repressing it, I would let a woman know that I wanted to say, blindfold her. If she wasn’t into that sort of thing, then I always believed it’s better to know sooner rather than later. It wouldn’t necessarily sink the relationship. But if we weren’t into the same things, and more importantly, weren’t willing to try new things together, then our days were numbered.
        That hasn’t changed. Not because sex is the most important thing. But because I know that sexual compatibility is as important to me as temperamental or emotional compatibility. And the ability to work out the kinks sexually with a partner is as important as the ability to work out the myriad of emotional issues that are bound to surface. Ahem.
        My sex life has actually gotten better as I’ve gotten older. Part of this is because I’ve been fortunate to have been with some really special women. Part of it is because I’ve gotten even more comfortable in sharing what really turns me on. And part of it is because I continue to explore the scope and depth of my own sexuality. No different than getting to know myself better emotionally, or expanding my mental capabilities, delving onto what rocks my world is a beautiful journey of self discovery. Taking that journey with the woman I’m with is truly one of life’s most wonderful experiences. And, not to put too sharp a point on it, it makes for some unbelievable sex.
        Being completely sexually open and honest with your partner and being willing to take that journey together takes some guts. It takes trust. Lots of it. It takes a leap of faith, in yourself and the person you’re with. It takes an acceptance of self. Actually, it takes more than just an acceptance, although that’s the critical first step. It takes a celebration. When your sex life becomes a celebration of self, yours and your partner’s, that’s when the real fireworks start. That’s when you both really achieve lift off. When your sex life becomes a true celebration of what rocks both your world’s. When it becomes an uninhibited-no-holds-barred joyous intimate celebration of what drives you both abso...fuckin...lutely....crazy.

©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and a dungeon full of Wrongs) reserved.

For some books related to sexuality, go to my Recommended... links page.