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Thirty-three years of TNG

A couple of days ago, in 1987, Star Trek: The Next Generation premiered.

I am one year older today than Patrick Stewart was when we filmed Encounter At Farpoint. I literally grew up on the Enterprise.

It’s been a long and complicated journey to get from 14 to 48. It’s been joyful and painful, and all of it has happened on the shoulders (and occasionally in the shadow) of this television show that is so much more than a television show.

I am so proud and so grateful to be part of Star Trek. I love my Star Trek family so much; they are the closest thing to parents I have in my life, and I am so grateful for them.

I am so lucky to be part of something that will likely endure for generations, inspiring kids whose parents haven’t even met, yet, to do great things with their lives.

I wish I’d been able to fully appreciate it when I was there, but I just couldn’t. I was young, immature, and in so much emotional pain, all the time, it kind of overwhelmed everything else in my life. Luckily, I was able to appreciate it from time to time, and because of that, I have some of my most joyful memories as a kid, and as an actor.

I met Anne because of Star Trek. I was on a Trek cruise when I was 18, and met my friend Stephanie, who was also on the ship, but not part of the Star Trek group. We became friends (still are, she was in our wedding), and years later, she introduced me to her friend from work.
I owe every bit of happiness I have in my life to Star Trek, and when I think about that, it kind of blows my mind.

Happy birthday, Next Generation. Happy birthday, to my space family. I love you.

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報復性熬夜

I feel like I’m always the last person to learn about something, and that makes me reluctant to share things that now seem obvious to me. But I feel like a lot of y’all who read this page are similar to me in some ways, and maybe you’ll be glad to know about this, if you don’t already.

I saw a post on Tumblr about something called “revenge bedtime procrastination”. The original term in in a non-English language that I don’t speak or write, but that’s the closest we can get to a literal translation.

Revenge Bedtime Procrastination, which has a much more beautiful name in Chinese (the literal translation for revenge bedtime procrastination means “suffering through the night vengefully.”), is a phenomena unique to people who feel out of control in their daily lives, so we refuse to go to sleep early, to exert some control over our lives, and to enjoy some quiet time alone, when the rest of our people are sleeping.

I’ve always identified as a night owl. I’ve always had trouble falling asleep, and as long as I can remember, I prefer to sleep from about 0100 to about 0930 or 1000. I’ve been like that my whole life, and until I heard about this sleep revenge procrastination, I didn’t know why.

But now it all makes sense. When I was a kid, I lived in an environment where I was decidedly not in control, nor did I feel safe and loved. The man who was my father was a relentless bully who delighted in mocking me, teasing me, making me cry, as he made it crystal clear that he did not approve of, or love me. He made it very clear that I was not enough for him, through direct and indirect actions that have left me with a deeply painful wound that I don’t know will ever heal. Now, I know he had love to give, because he gave it freely to my siblings. He worshiped my brother, who grew up to be exactly like him, and I never saw him be cruel, dismissive, or disdainful toward my sister. It was just me, for some reason. And my mother did nothing to protect me, or to call out his emotionally abusive behavior. He was endlessly cruel and emotionally abusive to me, but they convinced themselves that, because he didn’t leave marks when he grabbed me in anger, he wasn’t actually, you know, abusive. Angrily shaking me by my shoulders, jabbing me in the sternum while he raged at me, calling me names like “dumb little fuck” all seems like abuse to me. They say I’m too sensitive. More than once, they told me I made it up.

News flash: the man who was my father was abusive to me, and my mother let it happen. Worse, she gaslighted me about it when I came to her for help.

So my waking hours in my childhood home just sucked. When I was a child, I’d retreat into my bedroom and read books, design D&D characters and dungeons, and escape into my imagination, but there was always the threat of that man walking in and mocking me for existing.

As a result, I developed this Revenge Bedtime Procrastination, which gave me truly free and quiet moments of relief from his cruelty and her manipulation, when they were asleep and I was the only person who was awake in the house. That’s when I could write, when I could read books, when I could listen to music, when I could exist as a human being who wasn’t always afraid.

Today, I love my life and my family. I couldn’t be happier about my career. I mean, right now things are generally not great for all of us, and I’m ready for our current trauma to be over, but if the dual traumas of pandemic and Fascism were removed, my life would be really great, in no small part because I have no relationship with my abusers.

And yet, I still struggle to fall asleep before 0100, even with the help of my CBD tinctures and meditation. It’s something I’ve lived with my whole life, and something I never truly understood, until I read this post I referenced above.

I don’t know if, now that I know this is a thing, I can start working to convince myself I don’t need that time like I did then, because I am in a house filled with love, shared with a partner who won’t ever hurt me. I don’t know if I’m going to ever be a person who can fall asleep easily, or before the middle of the night, but at least I know WHY I am the way that I am, and that makes me feel a little less broken and weird.

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just thinking

I’m thinking about kids who are doing online learning, when they want to be at school with their peers. I’m thinking about their parents who are suddenly thrust into an educator role they may not want or feel prepared for. I’m thinking about good, honest, hardworking people who are in danger of losing their homes through no fault of their own, desperate for some protection from predatory lenders and landlords. I’m thinking about the people who are getting up and going to work every day, for corporations who don’t care if they live or die, so the rest of us can have food and other essentials. I’m thinking of the people who did everything right, and still got sick because a selfish person refused to take this pandemic seriously. I’m thinking of the nearly 200,000 people who have died and the loved ones who are mourning their loss. I’m thinking of the BIPoC who are living through the dual traumas of being BIPoC in America in 2020, and living through a pandemic that affects people who look like them more harshly than it affects people who look like me. I’m thinking about teachers and educators who don’t want to be in classrooms because of the pandemic, but who also want to be there for their kids. It’s going to be unimaginably difficult to keep kids safe (think of how hard it is to get us to sit still) and give them the best quality education these teachers can provide.

I’m thinking about all these things, and how overwhelming all of this is, for all of us. If it’s tough for me, I can’t comprehend how tough it is for someone without my privilege.

I know that my experience is substantially easier and less disruptive to my life than it is to almost everyone else, and maybe that allows me the space to be the person I need in the world right now. So I’m sharing the reminder and the advice I gave myself, earlier today, when I needed it.

  • Remember to look for the Helpers.
  • Remember to BE a Helper.
  • Remember that this is not forever.
  • Remember that, as terrible as everything is right now, we’ve been here before and come back from it. We owe it to ourselves and to our children to be as resilient and committed as our ancestors were in their day.
  • Remember that we are living through a major trauma unlike anything most of us have ever experienced in our lives. We haven’t done this before, so we are figuring it all out in real time. It’s hard and it’s scary, and we need to be as gentle with ourselves as we are with our kids and loved ones.

This stuff is helping me today. Maybe if you need it, it’ll be helpful to you, too.

Also, real quick before I hit publish: Teachers, I see you. I’m grateful for you and I love you.

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i’m writing a new book

I can’t talk about what, specifically, I’m writing, but I am excited af to say that today, I began work on my next writing project.
It’ll be about a year or so before this project is finished and on shelves, but today, I got into it for the first time.

The beginning is always a slog. I have to just puke up whatever is in my brain, so I can put down a foundation and some framing. I’m doing work that likely won’t be seen by anyone other than my editor, but it’s still vital to the process.

This particular beginning isn’t as tough as I was expecting, which is a blessing. Every book, every essay, every speech, all have their own process, their own discovery, their own expression of my creative self. Each one is different, and each one takes some time to tell me how it’s going to be written. This thing seems to be easier and more fluid than I expected it would be, and the words came very easily this morning.

I expect that I’m going to rewrite and reject a lot of what I’m doing today, but HOLY SHIT does it feel good to be doing it. I haven’t been a capital-w Writer for a long, long time, and though the Writer Outfit is a little wrinkled and musty, it still fits.

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i am grateful

I don’t fall asleep easily. I never have. For much of my adult life, I actually dreaded going to sleep, because I had panic attacks every night that woke me up in absolute terror. (Once I figured out why they were happening, they stopped. It only took 45 years. Go me.)

It’s tough to fall asleep for me, because that’s when my anxiety does its most aggressive work expressing itself. Before I even hit the pillow, my brain is replaying everything I’m pretty sure I did wrong that day, taking occasional breaks to worry about, well, everything. My brain will work itself up so much it actually makes my heart speed up. When I’m supposed to be relaxing.

It’s not great, Dan.

But I started doing something that’s been incredibly helpful, and I thought I’d share it.

Every night as I’m getting ready for bed, I focus on a list of things for which I am grateful. I call it “doing my gratitudes”. I just start somewhere, like “I am grateful that I am going to sleep in a warm, safe bed. I am grateful that I get to share this bed with Anne. I am grateful I have enough food.” Stuff like that. I remind myself that there is so much that is good in my life, and by thinking about those things, recognizing those things, and making space to feel grateful for them, I do not give my anxiety an opportunity to grab hold of anything and go to work on me.

Sometimes, it starts with silly stuff like “I’m grateful I got a shutout in NHL20” or “I’m grateful we have more LaCroix than we can drink in a day” and then I quickly get to “I am grateful I can afford a PS4 and NHL20. I am grateful that I have the dexterity required to play video games. I am grateful we can afford more LaCroix than we can drink in a day” and so on.

There’s no right or wrong way to do this. If you’re anxiety prone like I am, you may lock up trying to do your gratitudes the right way. Tell your anxiety I said, “Go fuck yourself. There’s no right or wrong way to be sincerely grateful. You just are grateful, and that’s enough.”

I’ve been doing this for months now. Maybe it’s a year or so? I don’t know. What even is time these days and how is it Thursday when it was literally just Friday yesterday that doesn’t even make sense.

You don’t have to tell anyone you’re doing this, and it’s not a contest to see who is the most grateful. It’s just a way to focus on the good things in this world that are worth fightin’ for, Mister Frodo, and to remember that even though everything is terrible, there are still bright lights shining in all this darkness.

Those bright lights are so important right now, whether they are stadium lights turning night into day, or pinpricks that barely allow candlelight through black velvet. Spending time in gratitude makes it easier for me to find the light, and remember that it is there, even when I can’t see it.

I’ve found that, even when I’m having a rough day, deliberately switching my brain into gratitude is my escape hatch. Maybe it’ll work for you, or at least help you find yours.