Reason #24

The Syndrome Syndrome

SUBSTACK!!! My long lost friend! My confidant! My keeper of secrets! (Who am I kidding….you’re my gossipy buddy who I love to spill tea with while drunk on 3 espresso martinis)

If you’re new to Why I’m Not Writing (dang, I love so many newbies jumped on board while I was away on my months long hiatus! *heart*) then I’d like to welcome you to my brain vomit- non edited (Literally. I do no editing.) (also, thank you Charles for your Substack post on how editing is overrated…and please put a link for it in comments below…I’m too lazy to figure out how to do it) - too opinionated- often incoherent- few to no holds barred- rambling posts. I took a break at the beginning of summer to focus on marketing my new book, BUTTERFLY PINNED, (out now in hardback, paperback, AND audio…yes, audiobooks count, you judgy people you!) of which I effectively did no marketing for. Sorry Blue Handle Publishing! (EXCEPT for the Q&A that I was so honored to do for Palomino Magazine…Rebekah please share the link to your awesome Substack below, too!) I was also slugging my way through a commissioned new play for the University of Tennessee. Per usual, at the final deadline death knell, just when I was on the brink of seppuku, I pulled the “finished” (is any writing ever finished??) script out of my *ss. And so here I am, ready to rumble with you once again. As my dreamboat teddy bear Elton John put it…The Bitch Is Back!

Let’s jump right in…I’ve written before about how much I detest social media. Blech, ick, and ew. And yet, it being the necessary evil it is to shovel out all my marketing (that I’m not doing), I find myself forced to log on to three different platforms at least once a day. I’m not really a scroller but over my summer sabbatical (it now being mid November, it’s safe to say my cocooning was a TITCH longer than planned), I discovered 3 things:

1. Britney is back off the rails. Maybe it shouldn’t be her dad…or ANYONE currently in her circle…but I’m inclined to think it might be in that poor gal’s best interest to be under some supervision. At the very least, someone who will hide the knives and tidy up her house a bit.

2. My IG “friend”, Irene, who I have written about before, who may or may not be on meth/crack/heroine (she most definitely is), may or may not have served in the military, whose parents may or may not have taken all of her money, who may or may not have had a boyfriend named Vernon that has had a slew of girlfriends that Irene may or may not verbally accost on a regular basis, has not posted a single thing since March 21, 2024. I’m not going to lie, I’m worried. She has essentially disappeared with the wind. I took this to my real-life-friend Hilary to ponder the possibilities that maybe she is in an institution…or jail (as Irene was on a first name basis with local law enforcement)…or possibly, sadly, dead. The knowing look on Hilary’s face when I mentioned the last option made my heart drop. Irene, I sincerely hope you are rehabilitating somewhere safe. But if you’re watching from up above…please don’t start yelling profanities at me as you’re wont to do. I have no interest in Vernon.

3. EVERYONE IS SUFFERING FROM SOMETHING!!! Save your computer mumbo jumbo, I know how algorithms work….and I have completely and utterly phuked mine up. It started as clicking on “Autism symptoms in women” just because it piqued my interest, which led to “How to spot ADHD”, then on to “Chronic Fatigue Syndrome explained in 5 short slides”, and then to “How to cope with a Mother Wound”. The list went on and on…PTSD, OCD, BPD…the more I clicked, the more appeared. It’s not necessarily that I thought I had all of these maladies but they just…kept…coming… and what I found astounding was HOW MANY SYNDROMES THERE ARE! As equally astonishing is how many people are “liking” and commenting. That, my friends, is the rabbit hole I went down. And frankly, it bummed me out. Possibly because if I squinted my eyes enough, I could actually fall under a lot of these syndromes (hella yikes!) but mainly because it’s now all that pops up on my socials…I’m starting to feel bad about myself and I’m over it. Tigger this, trigger that…WHATEVER. I’ve written before on our proclivity towards pointing fingers at each other, of boxing and labeling not just groups but every individual we meet. And here, in the depths of the ailment algorithm hole I’ve dug, I’m seeing that we are now obsessed with that same mind set towards ourselves. In fact, there’s a glee to it…whether it’s a form of shouting “Look at me and how special I am!!” or the assumption that the label of “syndrome” suddenly abolishes us from all responsibility of our actions, thoughts, and behaviors. Either way, I argue it’s actually ripping away the beauty of individuality which is, in fact, our true super power. To me, that sucks.

So, I’ve decided to look at all my “quirks” (symptoms?) and spin them into things I’m good at! Positives! Because Dear Lord, we all seem to need as much positivity we can get. Behold, the Leslie Syndrome!! :

1. I am excellent at self diagnosing medical complications! Is that rash from chasing my dog through the weed addled woods? Probably not! Looking at the markings, it’s most likely Blau Syndrome…and sadly, there is no cure. The burning sensation in my throat? No way it’s acid reflux from the spicy chili I just ate…it’s most definitely Glossopharyngeal Neuralgia. See?! I actually HAVE dug deep before and found the root of some ailments I’ve had. Talk about emboldened!! Honestly, I might have missed my calling…why in the world did I major in Theater & Dance when I so obviously should have gone to med school? Think of all the people I could have helped! Instead, sadly now, when I ask my doctor about what options I have regarding my prostate cancer, she just shakes her head and tells me to stay off WebMD.

2. I have perfected the art of reading a text and not answering! Have a pressing question that needs to be addressed IMMEDIATELY? I’m your gal! I will read the text as soon as my phone *dings* and then remember that I wanted to Google The Nashville Zoo to see if it’s AZA accredited. Truly, it’s a gift I’m giving you…the gift of critical thinking. As I used to say to my kids when they’d ask for help with their geometry homework, “If I give you the answers, you’ll never actually learn”, then I would flip the TV back on to Vanderpump Rules and turn up the volume to drown out the sounds of their dissident cries. By not receiving an answer to your text, in panic, your brain will race with ideas, thoughts, and…solutions! All on your own! You’re welcome.

3. I am a master cyber sleuth! I will dedicate HOURS AND HOURS of my precious life to find one single little nugget of information. I’ll consistently be late for dinners, miss deadlines, and ignore friends & family to track down details of any given conspiracy theory. (I have a whole computer file dedicated to Irene…and Vernon’s shady lifestyle) In the case of digging up dirt on the gold digging, young-enough-to-wear-braces, girlfriend of an ex of a best friend of mine, it took me mere seconds! But I’m a woman, so duh. We’re ALL masters in that dept. (I also might mention this is by far the most satisfying syndrome I have…) (I have a cyber sleuth story about Epstein before the “Epstein” story broke but that’s a Substack for another day)

4. I am a savage name eraser! Not only will I not remember your name, you’ll walk away from our conversation with a a brand new identity! That’s right, two talents for the price of one. Something happens to my brain when I’m shaking hands for the first (or 3rd) time, looking a person in the eye, and smiling…it’s akin to the fog that’s piped in for every episode of Outlander.

   Example: Recently I was at a book signing and a young(-ish) woman plopped her copy of the book down in front of me. I smiled at her, realizing that I knew this person, and gave a friendly hello. When I say I “knew” her, I mean MILDLY. A SMIDGE. We’ve met a couple of times in passing. She’s a bleach blonde with “work” done to both her face and ta-ta’s, which are predictably accompanied by tight tank tops, miniskirts, and cowboy boots. She’s a gal we down here in Nashville refer to as a “Broadway Girl”. And not to sound racist…but they all look the same. Quickly, I got straight to the point, avoiding any chit-chat in hopes of quickly escaping the minefield I found myself in:

   ME: Who would you like this made out to?

   HER: Me.

   ME: (inner dialogue) ******phuk*****

   -then-

   ME: How do you spell it? (A deft and brilliant move, if I do say so myself)

   HER: Don’t you know my name?

   ME: (screaming inner dialogue) *******phuuuuuuuk*****

   First off, girl-whose-name-i-will-not-drag-thru-the-mud-in-my-small-southern-town, it is WILDLY inappropriate and a show of EXCEPTIONALLY bad manners to put someone in such an uncomfortable social situation. Secondly, no, I do not know your name.

   It’s a superduperpower I’ve developed over time that helps me navigate the gazillion meet-n-greets, soirées, galas, and symposiums that the Hubs loves so much. I’ve learned to protect my introverted, creative brain from information overload. But it gets better! Because not only does the person’s actual name go in one ear and out the other but somewhere along the way, I’ve developed the keen ability to make up a new name for said person based on what name my mind thinks he/she looks like. You could start as “Sharon” and suddenly, you’re “Carla”. Because really, you LOOK like a Carla! (And you will remain Carla until the day I die. Sharon who?)

   I’m assuming this started with a very tepid understanding on my part of “tricks to remembering names” at a conference and quickly morphed into me succumbing to my world of imagination once the conversation with Sharon got boring. Because it doesn’t just stop with that new name. If you’re EXCEPTIONALLY talented at boring me, I’ll probably start making up some new origin story for you while I nod my head smiling as you explain how your 401K works. Suddenly, Sharon is not just Carla…but Carla from Jersey who is running from her uncle, Franco, the mobster, who has a hit out on her because she saw him pay the Chief of Police to turn his head and keep quiet on the murder of that rat bastard Johnny…

   All that to say, if you’re looking for a life makeover…or need to change identity quickly for government protection…you know where to find me! (Just make sure to remind me your real name and where we met)

5. I am the SUPREME RULING QUEEN of walking into a room, looking around, and walking back out. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not emulating Casper, roaming the house, forever destined to be trapped in some forlorn loop. I simply go into a room with a mission and then leave on a new mission…without even remotely completing any mission.

   The Hubs has been extremely helpful in my adult life by teaching me to use a notebook. Every morning, I sit and make my list of items to accomplish that day (yes, I always put “shower” on it as a freebie), and for the most part, it works! I happily bounce through my day checking off items left and right. I tend to add miscellaneous items to the end of every day’s list as they come to mind…such as “Check if Nashville Zoo is AZA accredited”…and when all my initial big tasks have been wiped clean and the add-ons start, that’s when the fun begins! I’ll walk into my office to grab a research book and then will spy my beautiful dieffenbachia plant that once belonged to my grandmother and remember that it’s Friday…watering day! I make my way to the under sink cabinet where I keep the watering can, passing the living room. In the living room, a paw print will scream out to me from the middle of my white couch (honestly, why do I have so much white furniture when I have three active, mud loving, dogs?!) and so I’ll veer towards the laundry room where I keep the furniture upholstery cleaner. Once in the laundry room, I notice that there is still a teensie pile of ironing to do. I quickly avert my eyes (blah, ironing) and see a pile of kitchen towels in the washing machine ready to be switched over. Opening the dryer, a load of pool towels, warm and fluffy…no doubt from drying off whichever 4 legged little beast ran in making a beeline for the couch. “That’s right, the couch!” I think while I fold the towels, then leave the room to put them away. On the way to the linen closet, I pass my office and think, “I need to grab The Serpent and the Rainbow off my shelf” (research!!), so I pivot and head into my office. Inside my office, my gaze lands on….my now dehydrated dieffenbachia. Watering day!

   And on and on my merry go round spins! This particular skill of mine keeps me abreast of all the happenings in my house. What needs attended to and what disasters are lying in wait. If I didn’t make 49 trips around my house every afternoon, how would I never know what to put on my list the next day?! It’s nothing short of brilliant!

   I could go on listing my MEGA TALENTS for eternity. They truly are endless. But I’m not here on Substack to gloat! (Not usually, anyway)

   While the above might come across tongue in cheek…(some is and some I might actually have a case for calling my doc re: ADD meds)…the intent to focus on the positive is not. My comments on the social media algorithms are real, as is the fact that constantly looking through these reels and posts is, in fact, called “Doom Scrolling”. And that sucks on many levels. We now have generations with an almost obsessive (symptom!) need to label some negative aspect of themselves. It’s as if our modern society…no matter where you live…is bound and determined to label their feelings, their thoughts, their behaviors, under some medical or psychological umbrella instead of remembering…we’re just humans.

   As humans we’re tribal. We need community. But is this really where we should be finding it? While watching these GAZILLION reels, it occurred to me that we’re constantly being told to be perfect (wear this gorgeous outfit!, complete this 20 step skin care routine every night!, feed your kid organic kale 10 times a day!, work 100 hours a week!, make a million dollars! Make a billion dollars!) -OR- we’re being told that every little step we make during the day is some warning sign that we’re seriously phuked up. I know that’s social media in a nutshell…but it feels like the message we’re receiving is if we can’t be perfect then the only option we have is to succumb to the fact we’re just plain broken. DYSFUNCTIONALLY broken! Social media has effectively wiped out our middle ground to just be a flawed, normal, human.

   Because, in fact, we are humans…and not because of symptoms or syndromes…we are going to say the wrong things at the wrong moments according to someone else. Or masterful things at just the right time according to someone else. We’ll get fixated on different issues, become obsessed by differing stories, and interested in various ideologies. We will have different viewpoints as we see the world through different lenses. We’ll experience great joy and great pain and rarely will it be identical to someone else’s. Through it all, we are going to make mistakes and we are going to make breakthroughs and…here’s the point…we should be able to own both. Because what a GIFT it is to be an individual! What a gift it is to be multifaceted! What a gift it is to be NORMAL.

   I’m throwing this out there right now—- I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR FROM ANYONE WHO IS GOING TO ARGUE AN ISOLATED, INDIVIDUAL CASE THAT GOES AGAINST THIS VERY VERY BROAD IDEA OF MINE! There are, of course, people that truly DO suffer from mental illness or some sort of physical malady. And for those people, I’m actually very happy that we have the advancements and knowledge we do to spot, identify, and hopefully treat whatever affliction is in play. However, the cold hard fact is…most of us don’t fall under that umbrella. For the BULK of the rest of us…I tend to think we’re pretty okay.

   (Unless you voted for Mamdani…but I won’t get into my personal feelings on that)

   It wasn’t always this way. There used to be so much more freedom in living. If you were quirky or grumpy or jumpy or go lucky….then you were simply quirky or grumpy or jumpy or go lucky. There wasn’t an illness around it and your label was YOU! Your individuality didn’t come from being lumped into a box of symptoms, your individuality came from being…an individual. You didn’t need to be “understood” by your syndrome, you were understood for being you.

   And isn’t that a beautiful thing? To be a complex, multi dimensional, unpredictable individual? Doesn’t that make life interesting? And if we aren’t constrained to “boxes”, who says we can’t change and grow to become who we think our best self is? Isn’t that the ultimate act of self freedom? To unshackle your own chains from whatever syndrome social media says you have and just be YOU?

   I personally believe that the vast differences between two individuals is what makes life worth living. Available to us all is the opportunity to share our differences…and the opportunity to acknowledge someone else’s. We don’t deserve love and attention because we have some ailment or condition. We deserve love and attention because we exist. Because we co-exist. Because somewhere in those differences might just be a little puzzle piece we feel we are missing and want to have woven into our own fiber.

   So, at the end of the day, I embrace my own sometimes quirky, sometimes grumpy, sometimes jumpy, sometimes go lucky self…and if I HAVE to put a label on it, that label will be: Me

   AND THERE AIN’T NO CURE FOR THAT! Believe me, I know, I asked my doctor….