By Dad Gone Mad

I’ve been reticent to post anything on this site, but that’s nothing new. Reticence is the soundtrack of my life.

“Be careful, Danny. Better safe than sorry. Better to make a joke out of everything than to risk getting hurt by exposing something raw or real or controversial. Stay funny. Funny is safe. Safe is good.”

Safe can kiss my skinny Jewish ass.

I lived safely for 37 years. Never took risks. Never pushed it. Never let myself be exposed to anything brash or unconventional. Never really EARNED anything. Worked in a cubicle. Always wore an undershirt. Was content with my reliable paycheck and good benefits even though the job was empty and boring and spirit-crushing.

Here’s what that lifestyle got me (in chronological order): Zoloft, Lexapro, Cymbalta, Zoloft again, Prozac (for two days), Zoloft again and Wellbutrin.

Quite a prize, no?

I once wrote this about myself:

“I had done my best to hide my depression from view. I was embarrassed by it and scared of dropping several notches in the eyes of those who do not understand. But the incessant game of hide-and-seek becomes exhausting and stressful, and it only serves to fuel the self-doubt. Whenever I told people that I have this disease, I would watch as they wondered what it means. Perhaps I’m a threat or untrustworthy or liable to do something they’d rather not have their children see because they wouldn’t be able to explain it away with a roll of their eyes. I’ve wondered those same things myself.”

When I read that back now, I’m appalled by how pitiful it sounds. Fortunately, it’s not me anymore. I murdered safe. Killed its accomplice, fear, too. The murder weapon was the revelation that there is a difference between safe and responsible. There is a difference between risk and endangerment. I had no idea.

We’re big Dave Mathews Band fans at our house, and I’ve chosen one of their songs as my personal anthem. I like it because it challenges me. It teases me for having been who I was. And it reminds me to keep going.

If you close your eyes,
Cause the house is on fire.
And think you couldn’t move,
Until the fire dies.
The things you never did,
Oh, cause you might die trying,
Cause you might die trying.
You’d be as good as dead,
Cause you might die trying,
Cause you might die trying.

Well, Dave, I tried, and I didn’t die.

In fact, I feel very much alive