11/27/02: Your Ten Defining Moments

[juju]

Some of you may know by now that I, a grown 26-year old man, am an avid watcher of the Oprah and Dr. Phil shows. Yeah, yeah, go ahead and rib me if you want. I might as well be watching Lifetime! No, I don't watch daytime soaps. No, I don't know who Stephano is. And no, I don't get overly emotional once a month. Hey, I just like intelligent television!

Anyway, one of the things the good doctor likes to talk about is your Authentic Self, and you how got it. What made you who you are today? What the hell happened that caused you to be such a freak? Obviously, there are external and internal forces that helped shape you. Of the external forces, Phil says there are 10 defining moments, 7 critical choices, and 5 pivotal people that have shaped your life. These are the events and people that wrote on the slate of your life and made you who you are today.

Of the 10 defining moments, Phil says:

"In every person's life, there have been moments, both positive and negative, that have defined and redefined who you are. Those events entered your consciousness with such power that they changed the very core of who and what you thought you were. A part of you was changed by those events, and caused you to define yourself, to some degree by your experience of that event."

Upon first glance, it seems rather trite. Why such specific numbers? And just why are they so damned low? People are pretty complex. Does he really think that everything about me can be reduced to 23 items on a bulleted list? It's so psychological and 30-minute-cure at the same time.

Nevertheless, I casually asked my wife last night what she thought her 10 defining moments in life were, and surprisingly, it sparked off a very good 2-hour-long conversation that revealed a whole lot about how events have helped shape our personalities. I really enjoyed that conversation. This simple question seems to have an amazing ability to reveal a whole lot about how people got to be who they are.

So, I'm asking this question to all of you. For brevity's sake I'm restricting this to just the first one, and i'm not restricting it to ten.

What were some of the most defining moments in your life?

---

[perth]

my wife is laying on an operating table. the pain shes endured for 15 hours is readily apparent on her face. shes exhausted from exertion and herculean effort. im looking at her, stroking her hair and telling her how proud i am of her strength and dedication. im telling her it wont be long now, that were close to the end. i look into her eyes and i realize ive never loved someone so much as i love her. at that moment, the room becomes one person louder, as my son draws his first breath.

i grew by leaps and bounds in that moment. nevermind the fact that i amused myself for hours afterwards tickling my wifes feet, which had no feelings thanks to the epidural.

juju, thank you for this thread.

~james

[juju]

My parents divorced when I was about 5 or 6, and every other weekend I had to go and visit my dad.

My dad's first love is hang gliding, and he drove to the mountains every weekend with his friends so he could fly. I was also taken along.

Eventually, he moved to the mountain. Buffalo mountain, specifically, in Talahina, Oklahoma. He had no electricity, no running water, nothing. Just a fucking cabin on the top of a mountain with no tv, phone, or toilet. This was great fun for him, because he didn't have to drive up the mountain to get to the launch site. He just walked over to his front yard. What can I say? The man loves not having any electricty.

Even though he loves to fly, though, I personally found the mountain to be the most boring place in the entire world. Why he would ever think i'd enjoy being there is beyond me. I don't really think that he took my feelings into consideration at all. When I was with him, he always did what he wanted to do. I was always just drug along for the ride. I've heard that some divorced dads take their kids to the zoo, or the museum, or something. My dad never did this things with me. I hated going to see him, because it was boring.

When I got my learner's permit, he taught me how to drive in his Jeep. I was very excited about this, and it was cool to be able to be taught by my dad. Eventually, he deemed me good enough to do it on my own. I had no license, of course, but who the fuck is going to arrest you on a mountain? He started to let me drive down the mountain so I could pick him up at the landing site after he landed.

Well, one day I was going down the mountain to pick him up, and I reached around into the back seat so I could find my hairbrush. I didn't really have any experience driving, so I didn't know that if you just turn around and start looking for something in the back seat, you'll run headfirst into a fucking tree. Well, that's exactly what I did.

I felt pretty terrible and panicked. I didn't know what to do. I was all alone in the middle of nowhere, with no vehicle. So I walked down the mountain. It was hot, and was a very, very long walk (It's a fucking mountain).

Eventually I met up with him at the bottom, and he wanted to go check out the Jeep to see how it was. That very, very long, exhausting walk down a huge mountain was then duplicated, only this time he insulted me and called me stupid in an infinite variety of creative ways the entire exhausting way back up. He had always called me stupid. One of his main philosophies is that anyone under the age of 18 is a complete idiot. This time it was non-stop for a very long time, though, and it really, really damaged me. Before when he called me stupid, I hadn't really done anything. But this time I was extremely traumatised. What is it about people that makes them want to kick people when they're down? Right at the moment when I most needed someone to tell me that everything was going to be all right, all he cared about was his Jeep. Not me, a human being. Who cares how I feel, right? I screwed up, so the way to solve it is to yell at me and insult me. That way I'll be sure not to do it again. Not doing it again, of course, is momunentally more important than how I feel. He obviously didn't give a damn how I felt, because he made it a personal objective to crush my will and ego. His neverending insults that day made me feel smaller and more insignificant than I'd ever felt in my life.

After that, I never went to stay with him again.

I do have lots of good memories with him, of course. He taught me how to play chess, for one, and we played often. I really loved that and it was something we shared. Don't think I hate my father, this is just one event in my life. Other things happened after this, and this isn't the single defining moment of our relationship.

But this event taught me that no matter how much your parents say they love you, when you really need them to comfort you -- they're really just going to bail on you.

Sadly, my mom did the exact same thing (without the insults), when I later wrecked my own car. When I called her to tell her what had happened (I was extremely traumatized), her only response was "So?". I was like, "So?? Well, can you come and get me?". She then related that she had expected this to happen, and only grudgingly came and picked me up. I don't know what the fuck she was thinking. Like, because I wrecked my car, I deserved to be punished, ostracised, and humiliated. That event, too, was extremely traumatizing, and I needed someone to tell me that everything was going to be okay. All I actually received was a general feeling that I was the most despicable person in the entire world. She always professed to love me, but as a child, I ignored what she said and listened to what she did. In my mind, that event that day proved to me that my mom didn't love me. I grew even more distant from her and began to hate her.



One thing: hindsight is 20/20, and it's probably easy to heap criticism on what I did then or the reactions that I had. But that's how I reacted at that time, and so it's real to me. Real in that I can't change how I reacted, and how I did react affected who I was for years to come.

[juju]

Wow, thank you so much for that, perth. While my moment was full of hatred, yours was full of joy! I feel kinda cheap now. Remember, folks, it doesn't have to be negative! :)

[perth]

nah, i have plenty of bad defining moments. it sounds like your dad is much the same as my dad, so i can certainly relate. he did some asshole things that bother me to this day.

~james

[juju]

I have another one that seems kind of silly, but my wife says is really good.

When I was in junior high, I used to walk about 2 miles to school every day. It was a long walk, but I enjoyed it because it gave me some alone time, some time to think.

One day while I was walking home from school, I was pissed. Really, really full of Rage. I don't even remember what the hell I was so angry about, hell it was probably something really insignificant. But it seemed pretty world-shaking at the time.

I took my backback and slammed it against a tree as hard as I could, yelling as loud as I could. Just as an expression of my anger.

I felt a little better after that.

When I got home, I opened up my backpack and saw that I had crushed my calculator. I had totally cracked the hell out of it. Well, I felt pretty stupid. I felt really stupid. I mean, well it is just a stupid little calculator, but I really liked that calculator. It was a Solar calculator. It had no batteries. It stole its energy from the very light itself. Man, let me tell you, back in the 80's, that was some cool shit.

It wasn't really very earth-shattering, because it was just a cheap little item. But it made me feel so stupid. I was like, "Look what I have done. Why did I do that? Was the few moments of relief worth the damage I caused?" That consequence, though small, taught me that flying into fits of rage causes you to break things that you like, and only makes you regret it afterwards.

I've never really been a very violent person. I haven't been in a fight since the 3rd grade; heck I can usually talk my way out of a predicament. It probably helped a lot more that I've never seen my father or brother get in a fight in their entire life. But for some reason I kept that calculator. I don't even know why, it didn't work anymore. I just threw it in a basket of junk. Every time I looked in that basket, though, I saw the cracks in it, and was reminded of the consequences of what I had done.

[Whit]

     I've got one, the details are easy to remember since I wrote a paper on it for school. Don't worry, I won't re-write the whole paper here.

     Anyway, I was seventeen just moved out of my parents house and was generally enjoying the hell out of my life. Then I had a couple of those really shitty days. Very Murphey's Law kinda stuff. Nothing major, just stuff like the water heater going out and BS at work, that kind of stuff. But that kind of stuff constantly, for two days. (I actually still have a scar from one particulary dumb thing I did.)
     Well I'm sure everyone has had this kind of day and so I think you can all sympathize with the aggrevation of it. So here I am annoyed as hell and at a pay-phone when I try to call my then-girlfriend as I promised, but due to the two-day run of luck I was I didn't really expect her to be home. I was right.
     I turn around look up at the sky, (yes I really did this) and called out a challenge, "Hey! If there's anybody up there, be it God or whatever else, l'm sick of this! C'mon just try to make something good come out of the last couple of days. C'mon I dare you!" As you can imagine nothing happened. In disgust I reached into the change tray to get my dime back (yeah, it was just a dime then, don't bother with the old jokes, they're too easy) and pulled out two.
     Here it was, my response from the powers that be. I got a dime so I could call someone that gave a damn. I laughed so hard I had to sit down. Some people walked by looked at me like I was insane and went way around me. I really started laughing then, we're talking tears in my eyes can't even think about getting up laughing.
     I haven't made any more chalenges to the heavens, I think the dime summed up any feelings they might have. (Not that I rule out that it was just a funny coincidence) I have gotten alot better at not sweating the small stuff though.

[Tobiasly]

Good story Whit.

One of my defining moments was in college; I had been generally bummed about my lack of ability to find anyone of the opposite gender whom I was compatible with.

So I was in a bookstore, and walked past the Bible section. Then I remembered my mom telling me that my name (Tobias) came from the Roman Cathloic bible; the Book of Tobit (Tobit had a son named Tobias) to be specific.

My family is far from Cathloic, but she liked the story, because it was about a journey that Tobias had to make and an angel who watched over him on his journey. So I decided to buy the bible, and read the story.

So Tobias ends up meeting this chick (I believe the wording they used was a little different), and she's been married like 7 times. But every time she's about to consummate the marriage, a demon came and captured her husband, never to be heard from again. (So she not only had bad luck, but obviously had a high degree of SF as well).

So Tobias's angel tells him that this is the woman he's supposed to marry. Of course Tobias is a little worried about that, what with the demon and all. But his angel says to him, "fear not, for she was set aside for you before even the world was created."

I'm pretty sure I cried when I read that sentence. I was always a firm believer that everyone has a soulmate out there somewhere, but that's when it was really driven home for me. I never really got bummed about my woman troubles after that day, because I knew I'd find the Right One eventually (which I did.)

[Cam]

I've had a pretty recent one, actually two that kind of follow the same path. Both were injuries to my parents. Neither life threatening but both were scary in their own way.

The first occurred when my mom broke her ankle the morning before I graduate from high school. I was sleeping in my room in my basement that morning and remember being woken up by something, I found out later it was probably my mom's scream. Anyways I was laying there and I heard my parents talking and couldn't figure out what was going on. Then I heard the door slam and someone running down the stairs, and somehow I just knew that something bad had happened. My dad came into my room and told me that mom thought she had broken her ankle and that I was going to have to run her to Plentywood. So I jumped out of bed, didn't even change my clothes and threw on some shoes without socks. I ran my mom to Plentywood (20 miles) and got her into the hospital. After x-rays the doctor decided she had to go to Sidney (another 80 miles away) to have surgery. I ended up driving her and sitting in the operating room myself while she was in surgery.

Though it wasn't life threatening I'd never been so nervous in my life. If it wouldn’t have been during graduation it wouldn’t have been nearly as big a deal. The biggest thing I’ll carry away from it was my mom, obviously in pain, and drugged up, flat out telling the doctor in Sidney and she “would be going home tomorrow” so she could get to my graduation.

The other instant occurred this summer. I was the only one at our house and my dad was out swathing some hay. Anyways I was sitting in the basement and heard the door open and ran up to see who it was. The first thing my dad said to me when I saw him was "you might have to run me to the Emergency room" turns out he had decided to do something to the swatter while it was running, and something had engaged and it ended up slicing his hand wide open. I ended up running him to Plentywood too, luckily he just needed stitches but it could have been so much worse.

I always remember thinking what would have happened if he would have hit an artery or cut off his hand. It still is something I think about when I find myself taking people close to me for granted.

[slang]

I just started reading some of the threads in Juju's place. The others arent bad but this topic is a good one. All of the "moments" posted are interesting and tells one a lot about the writer.


I really can't relate to watching Oprah or Dr Phil. This is a good thread though, the best of the bunch.

[Griff]

More years ago than it seems my cousin died in a car accident. I'd lived with him for two years and we'd had some times. He was the kind of guy who lived at a hundred miles an hour but he'd give you the shirt off his back. We'd been at the same get together but he wandered off with some of the more serious druggies. It was my first summer with my eventual wife and I was at a cross roads. I was working second shift in a defense plant, raising hell, and suddenly I'd met this wonderful girl and she was really into me. Then my cousin wrapped his truck around a tree.

I began to see that the gift of life was a wonderful thing, not to be squandered. I started measuring things with a different rule. If my life ended tomorrow would I consider my time a waste? Did I want to retire from some pointless job? Did I want to become a miserable drunk. Was I afraid to live my life on my own terms? I chose to embrace life, I'd live well enough for both of us. My cousins death saved my life. I'm now the family man, with a great woman, wonderful kids, and more projects on my drawing board than I'll ever get to. I'm happy.

[warch]

One that strikes me everyday- the random chance of meeting my husband. There was definitely something otherworldly about it, for lack of a better description.

September 9th, 1989. I wasnt supposed to go, but was talked into going out with some friends for a beer after work. I saw this guy. This average kind-faced guy. I could not take my eyes off him. It was an amazingly strong tug. The only way to put it is that I recognized him. (insert mystical music here) So the crossroads is, do I go talk to him?(chatting up men in bars is not my M.O.) Finally with the encouragement of my friend, and a shot of tequilla, What the hell!, I asked him his name. Bang. Like being hit by a truck. Everything he told me about himself, it was like I already knew it. We were talking marriage within 24 hours. With the exception of the supportive friend that saw the meeting go down, everyone else was worried about my uncharacteristic impulsiveness. But it was so clear. No fear. Hitched two months after meeting and still good almost 13 years later.

I wasnt supposed to be there, he was traveling through town. Had I not talked to him, I would have never seen him again. I would have missed it. Strange and wonderful.

[99 44/100% pure]

I know this thread's been dormant for a while (by cellar standards), but I've been thinking about it since I first poked around in here. First, I want to say thanks to everyone who contributed to this thread, possibly the most lovely in the fabric of this community. I haven't had a chance to look back past a few months or so, but I doubt there is as much personal reflection, so beautifully written, elsewhere in the site.

I have a moment which, while not defining (as in affecting the outcome of) my life, certainly epitomizes my motivations and behavior. It was when I was about five. My mom had been 'asleep' for a few days (as an overwhelmed teen mother with 2 active kids, she 'slept' a lot in those days) and dad was in and out of the picture -- out for a while at that point, I guess. We lived in a reasonably nice apartment in Queens, NY. At that age, I was unaware of the squalor within our apartment -- I thought all kids had to shove laundry, food, dishes and other debris out of the way in order to play on the living room floor.

Anyway, mom had drifted in and out over a few days, and I decided that when she woke up, it would be nice if I had the laundry done for her, so I got my (six year old) brother to help me load it into our cart to take to the laundromat down the block. We realized that we shouldn't go ourselves, so I rang the bell of the nice old lady across the hall and asked her to help us. She obliged, after taking a peek into our apartment.

A few weeks later we suddenly moved to a different apartment in Queens (leaving most rooms knee-deep with crap -- for years I thought that was normal, too; leaving your unwanted junk behind when you move to a new place.)

I had forgotten all about this story until a few years ago, when a therapist was asking me how long I had felt that it was my job to clean up other people's messes so that they wouldn't be "upset." Huh! All my life, I guess. That realization helped me to see clearly that this episode epitomized my basic nature, and helped me escape from a deteriorating marriage whose messes I had not caused, and which I couldn't "clean up."

Funny, that realization, based upon this long-ago memory, really shook up some of my basic beliefs:
1) I thought psychology in general, and talk therapy in particular, were a crock; people should be able to help themselves, or the problem is biochemical, and can be dealt with pharmaceutically;
2) I took great pride in my belief that I knew myself through and through -- I had been there for the whole thing, after all, so there was nothing new to learn about myself -- surprise!

Now I think more about my motivations for the choices I make, and am not so quick to scoff at some seemingly implausible method for someone else's relief of suffering. (Except for that damned Ciara -- I'm not sure why her presence here was so upsetting to me.)

Funny postscript: When I related the laundry story to my dad, (with whom I have been happily reunited for the past 20 years), he said "So that's why we got evicted from that apartment -- we never knew who got us kicked out!"

Even funnier postscript: my mother, a high-school dropout, eventually "grew up" to become a licensed PhD psychologist with a thriving practice. Despite the years of penury and neglect, my childhood was also filled with good times and love, and I wouldn't trade pasts with anyone (although there are a few episodes I could do without).

[j03L10T]

1. Seeing the naked body of a woman in a national lampoon magazine at age five.

2. Being majorly clawed by very large dogs the same year while scooting down the sidewalk on my "big wheel".

3. Watching a re-enactment of the crucifiction inside of a church (I would have sworn those nails were real).

4. The following Christmas I discovered that the baby jesus was actually a flashlight inside of basket and it lived in the church only during Christmas.

5. Asthma attacks, and recovering already thinking I had suffered enough to stay home from school the next day but it rarely worked out that way.

Those first five were before moving to L.A.-

6. Playing doctor at the local playground and getting caught. I'm still not understanding what was so wrong with "show me your's & I'll show you mine".

7. Trying to take appropriate credit for the vocals of surfacing and soon to be heavily established rock and rap and punk and country and jazz and blues groups (I may have forgotten to include something).

8. Becomming an alcoholic before completing fifth grade, and flunking the sixth. The beer and smokes were furnished while I continued to supply the vocal tracks for different groups.

9. Getting pistol whipped while buying pot off of the street. Money and car keys stolen and one hell of a concussion. They finally caught the guy a couple of years ago, kidnapped a taxi driver. It was his 49th appearance in court for the same type of felony, and for some odd reason they finally decided to lock him up for good.

10. Getting together with some guys and inventing the concept of a forum to be called the cellar, which I did find on my own without any help whatsoever save only the memory of having done so.

(#10 is actually an event that took place back in 1980, I was only twelve at the time- it as a lot to remember)

Also- Chronologicly spreaking, to be more precise #10 belongs between #8 and #9. Sorry that I'm too tired right now to even cut/copy/paste. Still recovering from all of the business we did during the last few days of our Christmas season. Cheers!!