In PART 1, I wrote about how I’ve always felt “different,” even as a child, but didn’t know why; how I struggled with interpersonal relationships (well, I still do) and felt a general sense of isolation from the world around me; and how Brett Favre and Bruce Springsteen became my conduits to other humans. But, what I didn’t talk about a ton, despite it being in the title, was Asperger’s. Well, there’s a simple reason for that: Asperger’s wasn’t a part of my life then. Well, yes, I know technically it was, but I was completely unaware that I had it, what it actually was, and how much harm/good it was doing to/for me. Now that I know, I want to talk about how it’s affected my life and my relationships, how it’s helped me, how it’s hurt me, and, how through it all, music has been the steadying force in my life since that “Born to Run” moment. That sentiment is simultaneously not true, as music has completely fucked my life up in numerous ways. So, the two go hand in hand. Everything about my journeys with both music and Asperger’s seems to be contradictory and very polarized. They’re both the best/worst things that could ever happen to a guy, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world…
It’s recently become a popular sentiment, first by Kanye and then later by Greta, the climate change icon, that mental health “issues” or “diagnoses” can actually be a positive thing. I think they’ve both gone on record as calling it a “superpower,” which is awesome. But that also makes me feel like I’m in the Truman Show (I know, a common trait amongst serial killers, but I can’t even count how many things I’ve willed into existence anymore…) as it’s something I’ve been saying for years to anyone that would listen and now suddenly I’m reading about it all over the place. Hell, even Jerry Seinfeld said he probably was on the Autism/Asperger’s spectrum and said it isn’t “dysfunctional” but just “an alternate mindset.” I like that. I have an “alternate mindset.” Makes me sound more like a genius… (wait, isn’t that also a serial killer attribute? Being a self-proclaimed genius? Well, at least my love for animals is a big strike against me being a serial killer. Why am I talking about the traits of serial killers? Damn you, Netflix, for recommending so many murder documentaries!)
My wife was actually the first person to bring this up and tell me how lucky I am to have Asperger’s. More times than I can count, she’s mentioned how she wishes she could do and say some of the things that come so naturally for me. Over the years, I’ve also had many a musician friend comment on how they wish they could be more like me; in certain regards, that is. I’ve talked about the many positives of having Asperger’s over the years (having routines that save time/energy, decisions that should be hard aren’t for me, big life changes don’t really phase me, extreme persistence in pursuing things I need/want, unswayable morals, etc.), but I think the main thing that people wish they could do is not care so much. I keep hearing from others how they really wish they could not care as much about things like:
- what other people think of them
- what other people think of their music/art/writing/etc.
- what other people might say if they do x/y/z
- how other people might feel if they do x/y/z
- how many people clicked on their whatever on social media
- how many people streamed their song/music video/etc.
- how many people showed up to their show/event/etc.
- whether people will like their new music/art/writing/etc.
- whether they might look stupid by doing or saying something
I could go on, but you get the point. I know many a person affected by George McFly syndrome. You know, the what if I’m not good enough? What if no one likes it? I just don’t think I could take that kind of rejection thing. It can be paralyzing. I’ve known more than a few artists/musicians who’ve given up because the stress of putting their worth into others’ approval is too much. It can suck the joy out of things very quickly. One of my best friends, and the most talented musician I’ve ever known, goes years between albums and shows because of George McFly syndrome. My wife quit playing her music altogether because of it. One bad show can send them spiraling in self-doubt, draining them of their confidence and making them question their indisputable talent. I wish that I could do something about it. I wish I could give them a little Asperger’s the way Jedis in the latest Star Wars movie can now magically give others life (don’t even get me started on the latest Star Wars… Thank you for not getting me started…). But, I can’t. They can’t have what I have, unfortunately. I just wish they could not care, like me.
All those things on the list up there, I don’t give a damn about a single one. And I’m not just saying that to sound cool or something, I really don’t. I’m not sure I have the ability to. Sure, it still feels good when things go well, when a show is packed, when people say they love your music, etc.; everyone likes a compliment, even me. But, and this may sound mean, I don’t really care. If no one told me “good show tonight” or “I love that song” I’d still be fine. I judge my music, performances, etc. against how I think I should write, perform, etc. That’s the only criteria that matters to me. I’ve played countless shows where I’ve received the nicest compliments from people but still came away with a list of things ready for myself to work on and improve for the next show. I think it’s why I was good at sports. I always wanted to improve, never felt comfortable, and didn’t need a coach or someone else to inspire me. I’m all the inspiration I’ll ever need. Again, which is great for a musician.
In the music world, and, unfortunately, even more so for female musicians, there are so many things and people that will try to beat you down. The system is almost designed to do so, especially if you are tying up your worth into other peoples’ judgments of you. Since I don’t really care, I’m able to move more freely around the music world without the anxiety that plagues a lot of the musicians I know. Since you can’t actually control other people’s actions, thoughts, words, likes, dislikes, etc., it’s a huge mental burden to try and then also to worry about it. Trying to make sure a room full of people are having a good time is exhausting. I’d rather put all my energy into performing the best I can and let them all do whatever the hell they’re going to do. I can’t do a damn thing about it either way, so I want to have the most fun I can whilst performing.
I think the other part of “not caring” that is very beneficial, again, especially to a musician, is that I don’t worry about results. It’s something I constantly remind my wife (and friends, colleagues, etc.) to do. She spends so much time worrying about how things might end up that she can paralyze herself fretting the possibilities. I know a lot of people who do this. When I play a show, all I can do is promote it, prepare myself and the band, and then go have fun. Everything else is out of my control. The things people worry the most about are things they can’t do anything about anyways like: how many people will show up, will they like it, will I or someone make a mistake while playing, etc. It’s wasted energy, and it’s something my Asperger’s allows me to not care about. I’ve had some of my favorite shows in front of almost nobody. And, one time, to literally nobody as the sound guy went out for a smoke and no one had stayed around for my 2am set at some random bar in NYC, not even my girlfriend. I played a three minute harmonica solo as I covered “Mr. Tambourine Man.” I played two or three Carter Family songs and a Hank Williams tune. I love that memory. It was so much fun. One of my favorite quotes is from former Green Bay Packers (and Jaguar and Steelers) writer Vic Ketchman. He often says “memories make us rich.” That memory of the empty show is worth more than many other hundreds of shows to me. But it never would have had happened if I cared about those things listed above. And there are plenty more memories I wouldn’t have if I didn’t have Asperger’s; like the “Born to Run” moment I wrote about in part 1.
There are many days I curse my Asperger’s (or more accurately, my wife curses it) but overall I’d say the positives outweigh the negatives. Is it hard for me to do simple things like making small talk with a barista while I’m getting coffee or chat with the bartender while he makes my drink? Sure, but are those really things that are categorically life-changing? No. Do I sometimes get overwhelmed when in public places with lots of other people? Yes, but those situations can also mostly be avoided. Do I have trouble making and keeping friends since it’s hard for me to make connections and even harder to find the time/energy to want to go hang out with people when I really just want/need to stay home and recharge? Yes. But, planning in advance and also planning downtime for myself can alleviate a lot of that. Does my Asperger’s also increase my depression? Probably, as I’ve read a lot of compelling evidence linking the two, but who knows. Is it difficult to sometimes perform simple tasks as I get overwhelmed when I overcomplicate things? Sure, but making task lists and breaking them down helps my brain focus. Is it difficult for me to understand metaphors or when people are trying to be polite by saying one thing but meaning something else? Yes, and I know I’ve alienated some people because I took them at their word or said something too bluntly or completely misread a situation and, therefore, acted inappropriately. I know, a songwriter who struggles with metaphors. Weird, right? That’s why I’m always amazed when I stumble across one when writing. Further proves my theory that music is ethereal and we are merely conduits for it, each with our own storytelling skill set which is why we receive the songs we do. But, I digress…
I’d say the toughest thing about having Asperger’s is my relationship with my wife. She’s a very emotional woman and that’s difficult for me. Seems like at least once a month I do or say something that unintentionally causes her to get angry, hurt, sad, etc. I don’t mean to and very rarely do I realize what it is that I’ve done. We’re getting better at communicating these things but I struggle badly at it. I wish I didn’t do and say stupid things and I’m trying to learn what they are so I can stop myself in the future, but even that is proving very tricky for me. It’s also difficult because we have disparate needs when we occasionally do have a fight. She needs comforting and touch, and I need to be left alone. Obviously, we both can’t have what we need at the same time. I’m also really bad at pretending to care. It’s written all over my face and body language so I can’t really hide it. It comes in handy when someone you don’t like approaches you at a party and you’d like to leave, but it’s very un-handy when your wife needs you to at least pretend to care. This is the evil side of “not caring.”
Anyways, I’m surely a bit off-topic here, but I’m trying to give a fuller picture as I don’t feel like I’ve adequately described things in the past. It’s always been more anecdotal. And, in the spirit of this post, I’d like to move on to how music has affected my life in eerily similar ways. Just as Asperger’s has helped me through some tough times, both personally and professionally, music has done much the same. Music has also taken a lot from me, just as my Asperger’s has.
I’m a big believer in karma and balance. Not necessarily in the spiritual sense, but more in a literal sense. The same way that in nature everything comes to balance. Steel will eventually rust and return to the earth as iron. Rain will eventually evaporate, reform clouds and then fall back to earth. But also, just like in science, every action has an opposite and equal reaction. Which stands to reason but is a tough pill to swallow some days. For every moment of, oh, say hearing your songs on a radio station halfway around the world, playing in front of hundreds of people, meeting my wife at a show I was playing back in Portland, OR; there has to be the opposite too. The years of depression. The hours spent fighting with the band over the dumbest things (I now realize that in all likelihood we had three people in that group who had Asperger’s, including me. That helped us forge our sound and some amazing music, but could also be the worst situation imaginable. Our drummer was kicked out of the recording sessions for both albums we did together…). The drinking and the drugs. We’d make a record (great) and immediately spend hours, days, weeks hating each other and break up (bad).
As I mentioned in part 1, my friends and I spend hours discussing how much we hate/love music. I think the best way to describe it to others who say “why don’t you just stop then?” is that it’s an addiction. For me, there’s a part of my brain that only gets its juice from writing and performing music. I don’t know what it is but I don’t think I’d survive if I stopped. It’s probably the same reason Springsteen is still out doing three hour shows. I used to hate that. I always thought “why don’t the old guys just hang it up?” But, the more I played music, the more I realized that I couldn’t stop either. I feel like music has physiologically altered my brain in some way and now I can’t function without it. And, normally I’m pretty good at quitting things once my mind is made up on something. That’s probably the Asperger’s, but once I quit sports, I had no desire to play ever again. Once I decided to move out of my hometown, I had no desire to go back. Once I decided to quit smoking, I stopped that day. But music is a whole different beast.
It’s strange, but I feel the most comfortable as a person when I’m on-stage performing. It’s hard to describe, but that’s when I feel the most “me.” Like I can take a breath and relax for once. I say weird things that are sometimes funny. I lose track of time and just have fun for those two or whatever hours. It’s definitely weird to say out loud (or, write out loud, as it were…) as that is most certainly not healthy. To feel the most me, I have to be playing music that I’ve written in front of other people. Trust me, I don’t get it either. I remember the first time I told my wife this, she said it was merely attention-seeking behavior. It’s true, I do love attention and that’s probably why I act out sometimes and/or get bored when people aren’t paying attention to me. I’m like a cat in that way. But, I think she finally believes me when I say that isn’t the whole truth. Yes, I want attention but being on stage is probably what it’s like when someone has a religious experience or prays to God. It’s personal and singular to them. They don’t have to “be” anything other than their true selves. Some people go to confession, I like to do mine in front of an audience. It’s the same thing; except I get paid to do mine.
The other benefit of performing is that it turns my brain off, which is awesome. I don’t think much at all when I’m on stage. I just be. It’s wonderful. I can’t tell you how much of my life is spent in my own head. I’ll often laugh or say something really fucking random because in my head it’s all connected. For example, a week ago my wife and I were going to see the latest Star Wars (again, don’t get me started…) and I casually mentioned that it can’t be as bad as some of the prequels. Then, without missing a beat, I said “just like Alanis Morissette.” Of course, my wife was like “what the hell?” I then had to explain that after I said that, I went back on that sentiment because, if I’m being honest, I actually kinda like “Phantom Menace.” Jar-Jar aside, I got to experience that movie through my brother’s eyes. It was his first Star Wars in the theatre experience (mine too) and it blew his mind. He was probably five or six at the time so he could relate to young Anakin. His excitement was contagious and I grew to love that movie. We played the pod racing video game and watched Episode 1 many a time. But the only reason I like that movie at all is because of the experience of taking it in as, and with, a child. I valued the experience more than the actual movie. In my brain, the logical step was to ask myself “what else did you have to be there for that wouldn’t make as much sense now?” I arrived on 90’s music. Much of the 90’s has come back around in culture but a lot of the music hasn’t. Wu-Tang has because of their recent documentary, Ms. Lauryn Hill has because she’s just one of the most talented people ever, Rage Against the Machine has because they are such icons and reunite to play shows only every 5-10 years, and the Foo Fighters and Sheryl Crow just never went away. But bands like the Wallflowers, Everclear, New Radicals, Semisonic, Goo Goo Dolls, Lisa Loeb, Mighty Mighty Bosstones, etc., etc., never really stayed relevant and haven’t enjoyed a comeback. The one that surprised me though, since she was the fucking queen of being awesome and weird and super talented, was Alanis Morissette. She’s back on tour but her music hasn’t really made a comeback and you really had to be there to know just how huge she was back in the day. She had hit after hit and was everywhere. But, I don’t think the kids nowadays know her as the musical mastermind she once was. It’s almost like how everyone’s forgotten that Mike Ditka was better as a player than he was as a coach. But, I digress. So, that’s how we arrived at “just like Alanis Morissette.” If you didn’t live through her reign as a pop/rock music icon, you probably see her much differently than I do. That’s how my brain works and it’s doing that all in milliseconds and doing it all day, every day. That’s why I value things that can shut off my brain.
But, there’s something inherently wrong with anything that makes you constantly need more of it to feel good about yourself, but that’s how music is. Everything that I’ve already written is the past and it’s on to the next song, the next hit of endorphins or whatever it is that floods my brain when I write a new song that I love. But, it’s also a helpful guide as it keeps me moving forward instead of moving in circles in my mind. Not sure if that makes sense, but it’s the way I feel many days. Like my life is a flat circle and I just keep repeating the same things over and over; which, to some extent, I do. I do wake up at almost the same time each day, eat the same thing for lunch almost every day, have my week planned out where I do mostly the same things on the same days each week, etc. But, for my creativity to spur, I need chaos (that’s healthy, right?). I need change. I need new environments and new stimuli. I have enough stories to tell (I’ve lived quite a life) but sometimes need something to jar me out of my routines so I can focus on telling them. I often only write songs when I feel the need to. When I’m prepping a new album or want something new for a string of shows or whatever. But, when I get the bug, I often write songs in clusters. I’ll write three or four at a time then move on to the next three or four. It’s why groups of songs will often share similar themes, characters, places, etc. I’ll also often pull a piece from this song to put into that song or tear down three to build one that’s the best parts of each. But, the most important piece of this is that I feel a purpose when I have to write new music. It gives me a reason to exist and a reason to keep existing despite whatever bullshit is going on in my life. I might be depressed for a time, but if I can write a song that might make someone else feel OK in their own state of depression, then it is worth it for me to experience that. It circles back to my reason for playing music, to help others like me, who need a companion in a tough time. Or just to feel the comfort of knowing that they are not the only ones going through whatever the hell they are going through. It may sound narcissistic but I truly feel like I’m in a position to help others and it’s my duty (ha! doody…) to do so. But, again, I’m not trying to be some large scale saviour but just want to help a few people who experienced the loneliness that I did. Those who felt disconnected from the world around them. Music helped me, it can help others. I write to try and tell the stories I needed to hear. That’s all I can do. I don’t know what others need. I only know what I needed and that’s all I can give. And I have. And I will continue to do so.
Anyways, I’ve rambled long enough. Music giveth and music taketh away. Asperger’s giveth and Asperger’s taketh away. Music gives me a reason to exist and a reason to keep fighting, and Asperger’s gives me the strength to fight and the mental fortitude to do so unrestricted. They both make me depressed and make relationships difficult but I wouldn’t trade them for the world. I don’t think I would’ve found music if not for my Asperger’s and I certainly wouldn’t keep playing music without it. And without music, I wouldn’t have a purpose to exist and probably would have ended my life long ago, so I’m grateful for both music and Asperger’s. They team up for good sometimes too.
Not sure if any of this means anything to anyone but I hope it does. And, if you have Asperger’s/Autism, I hope you feel like you have a brother out there who gets you and who can hopefully inspire others to pursue their passions and maybe someday they’ll return the favor to their fellow Aspies.
