It Doesn’t Get Better

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• April 15, 2017

There are some memories I’ve replayed so many times, I’m sure it’s not the memory I remember at all, it’s more like remembering a reflection of it.  A memory of a memory.  The minds eye playing the motion picture of your life.  The images stored in our heads will suffice as truth, a truth told by a child.

This child.  Who looks sarcastic as hell even then!

When I was small, our family owned a 20ft Celebrity boat.  It was a well known fact the Palminteri’s lived for summer vacations on our boat.  There couldn’t be anything I looked forward to more all school year long than for the school year to just be over, the weather to warm up, and to be on that boat again and beach again.

This here is a picture of us three kids with our Mom.  The boat is anchored in the background, just above mom’s head.

The pipsqueak I was, I liked to stand on the passenger seat, and hold onto the windshield, the salty air blowing through my hair while Dad was driving the boat, my Mom, sister, and brother, seated in the back (though sometimes, my brother would stand next to me, beginning our nickname “the twins”).  Sometimes I would sing into the wind, since no one could hear the sound of my voice over the sound of the motor/wind.  The faster we were going the better.  I always liked going fast, even back then.  And going over ferry wakes.  Already, I was addicted to rush.  Ah, yes, as the sunshine twinkled on the bay, I remember thinking then, quite accurately, “it doesn’t get better than this.”  Either on our way to the beach, or returning home, I knew, this moment was like an ice cream sundae, to be enjoyed thoroughly right here and now (back then, I compared all good things to eating ice cream).

This memory makes me laugh, not only because of how wonderful it was, but also because I’m unsure how or why I was so much wiser as a kid than I am now.  I once had the ability to say to my brain, “hey, this is awesome, let’s enjoy this right now,” and did so without interruption.  The talents we had in our youth would serve us well as adults.  Though it would be hard to convince me that being an adult means anything other than ever changing for the worse.

Self help books have never really helped or taught me anything I didn’t already know.  I prefer dense psychology textbooks that keep me up at night, convinced I’m schizophrenic, and psychoanalyzing why both myself and everyone around me does anything.  I’ve envisioned all the future possibilities, just so I can avoid them.  The only thing worse than not knowing how your life is going to turn out, is having the comfort of knowing.  What a bore.  Still, I’ve been so guilty of rushing stages of my life for half of my life now.  The excitement of hope is tangled in up in fear, and therefore, subjected to contradictions, and the ability to live in present moments (which we all know is the key to happiness) is endangered, if not already strangled to extinction.

I do believe that it gets better.  But that “it” isn’t life.  That “it” is (hopefully) the career, writing, relationships, the economy, and cures for diseases.  It’s not unrealistic to believe in such things.  Because I also know it is going to get a lot worse at times.  Life itself never gets less complicated, or scary, and rarely does it get easier, or better overall.   The ebbs of circumstance aren’t always in your favor, and often beyond an individual’s control.  Plus, I have cyclical depression to watch out for, and I know that shit lingers in the shadowy corners.  And I don’t mean sadness from whatever legitimate reasons that can unhinge life at a times.  I mean the pitch black numbness of spending every waking moment trying to hold onto one or two reasons not to kill yourself.  It’s not so easy to train yourself to be okay with inevitable maladies.  But, alas, I’m never happier than when I’m surfing in the sun, even knowing the possibility (and with my medical history, likelihood) of skin cancer, and that doesn’t keep me from loving the sunshine any less.  There is no point in lamenting an incoming storm.  Deal with it when it comes, or you’re just suffering doubly.  There’s a lot beauty, fun, and extraordinary people you’ll miss if you’re not paying attention.

Holding fast to the idea that it gets better is the whole reason religion exists.  While I’m a godless heathen, (though I’m toying with the idea of starting a religion where God is an octopus.  I’m on board with an octopus God.) I’ve found my own ideologies to cling to, and these also revolve around looking ahead.  It’s not such a bad thing, but it becomes a challenge to keep yourself from rushing the present.  Wishing is the antithesis of being in the now.  You see how this sets us up for failure?  I’m better at noticing these things than practicing them, by the way.

Now, in post medicated sobriety (I use the term sobriety very loosely here), I have to again get used to how neurotic my fucking reeling mind is.  At it’s worst, it keeps me up at night and gives me stomach cramps in the morning.  At it’s best, I’m hunched over a notepad, words and ideas pouring out of me so quickly, my hand can’t keep up with my head.  I’m more than okay with how I am; sanity never interested me.  I’m interested only in living a life I like to write about.  Still, one has to be alert of their faults.  The side effects of worry can destroy people.  Surely, we’ve all been a witness to this in one way or another.

Patience is not a trait I was born with, nor one have I been able to teach myself.  Anxiety, that sadistic motherfucker, strangles patience for shits and giggles.  Opportunities are a welcomed hope, but hope is plagued with doubt.  Accept that it gets better.  Accept that it also gets worse.

While driving along with one of your best friends to the Midwest for gigs for the weekend, we’re content in the time being, even if we’re not making much money.  We’d always rather be doing comedy than not.  We both cannot wait till a time where we don’t have to work other jobs and be full time comics.  In the meantime, on the highway for hours, there’s nothing else to do but look out the window at the clouds, and appreciate that fire in your gut, good music playing, and a good friend by your side, because just like being on the water heading towards the horizon on the Great South Bay, you know it doesn’t get better than this right now.