I've been quiet for a while. It's been a helluva journey these last few months. Finally taking the time to process. Three years ago I tore my ACL and it changed the course of my life forever. An injury of this magnitude will affect anybody. But if you know me you know that I have so much energy it is actually one of my defining qualities. I was always that hyperactive, upbeat, friendly guy, constantly moving. I would work two part time jobs while rehearsing a play and taking classes. One of my favorite things to do was help people move, and I would literally run up & down the stairs carrying boxes. My energy and my ability to help, love, & support people defined me.
When I blew out my knee, my life as I knew it was over. Not only could I no longer walk without support, but I had no medical insurance. I have had countless injuries over the years (the consequence of my aforementioned hyperactivity). I know my body well, and I know beyond just basic first aid. I knew the moment I fell that it was serious. And at that moment I also knew that I had no options. I knew it would require surgery, and that wasn’t an option. I knew that somehow I would have to continue making money, but I had no idea how. I thought that I would never be able to run or jump again, and would probably walk with a limp for the rest of my life.
Now this may appear melodramatic, but you must understand the most important part of my perspective. I thought I was alone. I’m a first born son who’s father died when I was 5 years old. I was the guy who takes care of everyone else. Even though at that point I had been with my wife--a smart, compassionate woman--for 5 years, I still felt this way. We had built our relationship on a foundation of independence, so for me to all of the sudden become dependent, although she was, and still is, more than willing to take care of me), was unfathomable.
My sister told me at one point that I was a superhero. I laughed at the time, but I think that I believed it. That I’d always believed it. That I had been given these gifts: a big heart, intelligence, a super-human level of energy, and a multi-cultural background that allowed me to see life from a very wide perspective. With great power comes great responsibility. My job in life was to become as good a man as I could, and help as many people along the way as possible. To save the world. If things got hard, I would try to take carry the burden. No room in the car? I’ll walk! This thing has to get done? I’ll stay up all night!
Asking for help is hard. Somehow, expending every last drop of my emotional & physical energy helping others is easier. Probably just in the hope that I’ll be helped back. And I was. I have great friends. Friends who are Family. In every city I’ve lived. People who I haven’t seen for 5 years who will drop everything to drive 3 hours to pick me up at the airport and put me up in their house.
We need each other. We are communal creatures hardwired to live as a tribe. The problem is that modern life, especially in the US, tells us that we SHOULD be able to do it alone. We can’t. I’ve always known that. It’s why I hitchhiked and traveled for so many years. A reminder of the illusion of control we fight so hard to maintain. But when I broke my knee, all illusions vanished.
For a month, I did not know if my knee would even get diagnosed, let alone fixed. Somehow, miraculously, the public health system of Philadelphia came through. Somehow, through the miles of red tape and hours of desperately but quietly waiting, exceptions were made. The doctor at the clinic who signed off on an MRI, even though he wasn’t really supposed to. The orthopedist who said he wasn’t taking any new clients, especially via the public health system, who unfathomably called me up to schedule a surgery. The case workers at the clinic and the hospital who wrote all the right words in all the right ways to somehow get me through all the right doors.
Looking back, I still have no idea how it all came together. This post is not meant to be political. I have no interest in debates about the size of government or entitlements or any other buzzwords. Those debates always take place within such rigid confines of talking points that no true communication can occur. I only know my own experience.
Thinking I was alone and responsible for taking care of myself, but desperately wanting an interdependent community, I was somehow caught in mid-freefall by my larger community. Growing up all over the world, the cities I live in have always just been places. But through that experience I was reminded that, however isolated we are from each other, we do still care. Jerome the overworked South Philly case worker didn’t know me. The 70yr old surgeon on the cusp of retirement had nothing to gain from helping a broke (and broken) 28yr old. But they changed my life.
We’re all humans. And we are hardwired to simultaneously completely depend upon and completely support a tribe of 150-200 people. We live in huge communities now that make the level of connection we desire difficult to attain. But we still want it. And need it. Whether we realize it or not, we are looking out for each other.
I wish I could say that right after my knee was repaired I realized all this on the spot. If only… But breaking my body was only the beginning. Realizing my own dependence, my own humanity, shattered the superhero illusion under which I’d been living for so long. The physical pain was nothing. The emotional pain of isolation without distraction, of dependence without reciprocation, was too much. As soon as I could walk, I ran. I spun. I flew, full force ahead, desperately trying to recapture that illusion.
This is why many of you haven’t heard from me much in the last 3 years. I’ve just been spinning. I lost focus on what is truly important: my community. My family & friends, scattered all over the world, who would do anything for me. But only if they know what I need.
Working “freelance” means that you never have to stop working. I would awake with the urgency of trying to fix my life and help people and make everything right, diving into distraction after distraction. And then crash 18-24hours later, exhausted and still anxious. Many of these distractions were good projects with good people. And every step of the way was part of the process of my healing. But if you don’t actually confront the real issue, if you don’t take care of yourself and deal with what is truly going on under the surface, you just keep spinning.
The last 6 months I’ve been particularly quiet. After reaching, in many ways, rock bottom (read my last post), I finally took some time. To prioritize the people that I love and my values and, well, myself. I spent the holidays with family and took a trip to the MidWest to visit some of my closest friends. I started this blog. I took long walks with my wife. And I collaborated with a close friend to write & shoot a funny, heartfelt feature film.
So no more superhero Nick. Not that he ever really existed, but no more illusions. Moving forward I am just a human. Like you. So let’s laugh and play, work and pay bills, take walks and cook dinner… and tell stories.
Because we’re all in this together. I tend to forget that, so remind me.
And I promise to do the same.
