Memento
While I don’t like to preface content with content warnings, because I believe from personal experience they cause more harm than good, I will point out that there is some content in this piece that could bring up negative memories for people in dark palaces. I know because I’ve been there myself.
That being said, as I reread this, I also wish this is the kind of thing I could have read when I was in such a situation. Do with that information as you will.
And yes, I meant dark palaces, not places. That might be a subject for another post.
A quote I heard a long time ago was that you are more likely to be defined by what you do in your worst moments than what you do in your best.
At first, I was like, what if you’re a war hero or a trauma surgeon or a firefighter or something like that? If someone runs into a burning building and saves a bunch of kids, I’d probably be willing to overlook it if they got a DUI or made a bunch of dumb social media posts as a teen. Well, maybe depending on the specific kind of dumb posts. But I digress.
Years later, of course, I would realize I’d been interpreting the quote wrong. It’s not necessarily referring to the standout moments- good and bad extremes, saving a life or taking it. Not necessarily the things that people will deliver in your eulogy or graffiti on your tombstone.
We are all creatures of habit, some more so than others, some for better and some for worse. And we are also likely to be different people when the weather of our lives is sunny than when it is overcast, stormy, and turbulent. You can probably speak to this personally- I’m sure that many of you reading this are polite, compassionate, civil, and open-minded. (That you’re reading some obscure guy’s words on the internet right now without obligation is proof enough of this statement.)
You would probably do a stranger a small kindness if they asked. You might have good organizational habits. You might read, exercise, eat healthy. You would try to better yourself and live the life you have with dignity and integrity.
But I would also wager a small sum that if you were under stress- if you had a bad day, or you were going through an illness or a job loss or a screaming child or simply what Winston Churchill famously called the black dog of life, you might change. You might not go on a hilarious tirade in public and get fired, or buy some firearms and go postal, but you might be brusquer, shorter, more clipped in your greetings to others. You might find that you have less patience for others’ requests or demands. You might swap out the chicken and veggies for a McDouble with cookie dough. You might look at that exercise routine or that codecademy course or that friend you’ve been meaning to reach out to and decide (not without reason) that you just can’t be bothered right now. You might play candy crush or watch that one youtube video or look at some porn or do something else that will not reflect great credit on your life ledger when all is said and done.
It’s easier to do the right things, make the right decisions, when everything is already going right. When life is good, the decisions you make aren’t really decisions- they’re just you living your life. Good habits, good life. And if you do veer a bit off course, it’s easier to course correct. Trust me, I’ve been there.
The true test of character- what happens when the wheels fall off and the shit starts flying and you have to hunker down- those are the decisions more likely to define your life, when you’re vulnerable and frightened and against the wall. How unfortunate it is that those are also the decisions most likely to go awry, the decisions most likely to succumb to peer pressure and entitlement and “just this once”.
Trust me, I’ve also been there.
At a certain age, it is easier to be isolated from the consequences of your minor habits and choices- educational, physical, financial, mental. At another certain age, those habits come back with interest. Time has ways of setting a far harsher usury than any crooked loan shark.
When you make one bad decision, even if it is in the depths of an understandable bad moment in time, it always makes it easier to make more. More and more, accumulating over time, boiling the proverbial frog, even as you convince yourself that it’s not that bad because other people are worse.
Now, to be fair, other people can indeed be worse. But that doesn’t mean it’s not that bad.
As I look back, I think about my worst moments and my best. Which decisions did I make during those times that affected the course of my existence more? Which decisions were more responsible for my life turning out the way it did, my hopes, my ambitions, my dreams, my regrets?
There are some questions you should not ask when you already know the answer.
And then there are some questions you should ask precisely because you already know the answer.
I wish I could tell you there was a secret to making the good decisions and only the good ones.
I don’t have that secret, but I can tell you a short story. A half-story, really. Not really one with a plot or a resolution. But a story all the same.
About nine years ago, I was standing on the platform of the A-C-E 42nd Street Station in Times Square, New York City. I didn’t particularly want to be there, but if you’ve ever been in Times Square, you learn that most of the people in Times Square either really really want to be there or they really really don’t. There is no in between, and I was no exception. I had an appointment I really did not want to go to and a few dozen more job applications I really did not want to fill out and a couple of friends I wanted to talk to but couldn’t because they existed only in my imagination. I had a backpack but it was mostly filled with things I didn’t need- paper, pens, some nonfiction books I’d been meaning to read. They had seemed like good ideas to pass the time on the bus ride but I had just ended up playing with my phone for an hour and let the nonfiction books gather dust on the seat next to me. At least they were strengthening my shoulders, I guess.
I was waiting for the A train to take me to my destination.
As the train pulled into the station, I took a deep breath.
The train came to a loud, screeching stop, as people turned and stared.
And I stood up because in the few seconds it took for the train to whoosh past me with the familiar gust of MTA pneumatic sewer air and third-world metal screeching, my knees had gone weak for a second and buckled to the platform floor, which if you know anything about the 42nd Street Station is not something you want any part of your body or clothing touching. A middle-aged but fit blonde couple- probably tourists, judging from their backpacks, God bless them- seemed to look at me with concern. I tried to give them a brief nod to let them know I was okay.
Then I got onto the train and got off at 23rd Street where I was volunteering for free at a tiny nonprofit in Chelsea that gave ESL classes to immigrants in a church. I was always a little late but my supervisor, a tiny elderly woman who saw more good in people than anyone had a right to, never held it against me. She knew I was losing money on the bus tickets and MetroCard coming here in the first place.
Since then, I have continued to make a lot of bad decisions in my life.
But nine years ago, I’m glad that I got off at the right stop.
I do think you are more likely to be defined by what you do in your worst moments than your best.
Which is why, in your worst moments, you can only do your best. To do the right thing, instead of the easy thing. And I don’t mean morally or cosmically or anything, just little things. Like if you’re tired and grumpy, but you still decide to exercise. Or if you really want a McFlurry or a Baconator, but you make the chicken with rice and vegetables anyway.
Or, say, if you’re in a bad spot right now, but you decide to pour your feelings into a little Substack post instead of playing some video games, and you hope it helps more people than it pisses off. One can always dream.
And as I learned in Times Square nine years ago, a single good decision might not singlehandedly reverse the course of your life. But it can still be worth it.