owning it: snark, sincerity and panic at XOXOFest

xoxofest opening

xoxofest opening

On Friday, after the opening remarks at XOXO festival, I decided it was time for a nap. I’d been walking and talking and drinking and socializing in Portland for two days already; I was exhausted, things had stopped making sense, and I knew it would only get worse if I didn’t try to relax. So I went back to my room at the AirB&B, got in bed, and stared at the insides of my eyelids for two and a half hours. I couldn’t fall asleep. My heart and my thoughts were scrambling to see which could go at a faster pace.

But there was no point in lying there awake when I was on a trip, right? I got up, grabbed my things, and got on a bus to meet some friends. I texted a few people to see if they were still where I thought they’d be, but I didn’t hear back. Where were they? Would they be there when I arrived? Had they forgotten about me? Did my phone really even work? Not knowing what else to do, I got off the bus downtown and walked towards my transfer stop.

And then I started crying. At first it was just a little lump in my throat, then some tears in my eyes, and then I was holding back sobs. I could feel my heartbeat throughout my entire body. I couldn’t calm down. I was all alone in an unfamiliar city, and I was a mess. I thought about calling a cab, but then I’d have to talk to the driver. I thought about walking all the way back to my room, but then I’d have to talk to the lady who owned the house. I was so embarrassed. Another woman at the stop noticed me and looked like she might say something, but I turned away. The bus came, and again, not knowing what else to do, I got on it.

When I got off at my second stop, I was in a neighborhood I’d never seen before. I couldn’t find my friends, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to, because by now I could barely breathe. I sat down on a bench and looked at my phone, but I still hadn’t heard from anyone. I was all alone in an unfamiliar city and nobody knew where I was, but it didn’t matter because nobody cared. I sobbed.

I could’ve sat on that bench forever. I was too frightened to get up, and I wouldn’t have known what to do once I got up anyway. Should I take the bus back? Walk back? Keep trying to find people? No matter what I did, everyone would see that I’d been crying, and that wouldn’t work. Why could all my friends handle these things and I couldn’t? Why had I even bothered to come?

I started thinking about maybe just going straight to the airport and taking a standby flight back to Austin, when I realized that there was someone in town who had seen me cry before, and he had a car with him. I texted Ryan.

Alison: Did Jenny take your rental car?
Ryan: It’s down here with us by Ground Kontrol [bar/arcade where there was a party] – I think she’ll be taking it soon. What’s up?
Alison: I came to meet some friends but I can’t find them and I’m pretty far away and they aren’t texting me back and I seem to be having a panic attack.
Ryan: hmm Huff was heading that way. Where are you exactly?
Alison: Hoyt and 21st. I texted him but he didn’t respond.
Ryan: Take a cab to Ground Kontrol, I’ll meet you there.
Alison: Ok getting cash.
Alison: Can you come out when I get there
Ryan: already out.

It helped to have someone tell me what to do, someone who was expecting me. I got up from the bench and looked around for an ATM, but first I found a Trader Joe’s, the sight of which I found unreasonably comforting. At Trader Joe’s I bought some trail mix and got cash back. The cashier said, “How’s your day going so far?” Great, I said.

I called a cab, and when I got in and gave the address, the driver said, “How’s your day going so far?” Great, I said. We got to Ground Kontrol where Ryan was waiting outside. I paid, got out of the cab, and immediately started crying again, in that sort of floodgates-opened way that happens when someone sympathizes. Why does nobody care, why can everyone handle things that I can’t, what’s wrong with me, that sort of thing, all came rushing out.

“I know that all of these trains of thought are a result of mental illness, but that doesn’t make them go away,” I said to Ryan, “and I don’t know how to make them go away! Do I not already take enough medication? What’s it going to take to make me normal?” We started walking down the street, where of course we ran into somebody we knew.

“Hey, what are you guys doing?” Sandy said.

“We’re going this way!” I choked out. I pointed in a random direction and started walking ahead a little, hoping Sandy couldn’t see me crying behind my sunglasses.

But it didn’t matter if he could see the tears, because my distress was pretty obvious. When he and Ryan caught up to me, Sandy said, “Are you okay?”

“Not even remotely,” I said. Sandy gave me a little pat on the back, and he and Ryan kept talking as we walked. I walked along in silence for a bit, and then joined in the conversation once or twice. When Sandy broke off to go do something else, I had calmed down enough to realize that being around other people and listening to them talk about other things was helping to pull me out of my own head.

frowny face day

i wear my sunglasses at night

So Ryan and I met some friends for dinner, where luckily we were seated at the bar so I could sit on the end and hide my puffy eyes behind sunglasses and not participate in conversation too much. I felt a little better, so I went along to a party at an advertising agency, where people actually complimented me on the sunglasses I was still wearing even though it was night. I drank a beet juice cocktail and talked to a few people and laughed and it was good.

And then I had a few realizations and made some decisions.

1. It’s time to own it.

I spent an inordinate amount of time and energy during my panic attack trying to make sure nobody knew it was happening. I was afraid to take cabs or go back to the house or call anyone because I didn’t want people to see me like that. I thought about texting around to see if anyone had a Xanax I could take, but I didn’t because then people would know I needed it. When Ryan and I ran into Sandy, I was mortified despite the fact that Sandy is a perfectly wonderful person who no doubt has friends or loved ones who have had panic attacks.

But what’s the point of doing all that pretending? I write about depression and anxiety here, so most people know I deal with it. Why do I care so much if they know exactly when I deal with it? I used a lot of emotional resources I didn’t have in trying to pretend, when I should have just been like, “Hey, guys, I’m having a panic attack. Can someone either come get me or tell me where to meet them for maybe a walk or a decaf coffee or something?” If anyone thought poorly of me, they could just fuck right off.

When I say it’s time to own it, I don’t mean that it’s time to make everyone stop what they’re doing and focus all their energy on me. It’s not an attention thing. I just mean that it shouldn’t be a big deal to say, hey, I’m not doing that great. Let’s keep walking, talk amongst yourselves, and I will calm down shortly. And maybe from now on it won’t be a big deal.

2. It’s time to get real.

The subtext of all the negative thoughts I had when freaking out was lost on me at the time, but given a day, I was able to sort it out.

Has everyone forgotten about me?
Why does nobody respond?
Why does nobody care about me?

All of those thoughts have their roots in a sort of self-absorption that, while I can’t control it when I’m panicking, isn’t an ideal way to be otherwise. I’m the protagonist of my own life, but I’m not the protagonist of the world, and other people have their own problems that have nothing to do with me. I found out later that of the people I hadn’t been able to find during my panic attack, one was searching for his lost luggage, one was wandering around town with a dead phone, and the third had gone for a much-needed nap, which I didn’t know because I was texting her old phone number. Nobody was thinking, “Fuck Alison.” They were all just living their lives.

And anyway, I shouldn’t frame everything that happens to me in terms of what other people can do for me. I should think about what I can do for them. At the very least, I should tell people I appreciate them.

a shop door, favorited

a shop door, favorited

So I spent Saturday handing out some word favorites. When someone did something nice, I said so. When someone told a story from their life to help me feel better about a story I told, I let them know it helped. Most people got off easy, with a “Hey, it was very observant and helpful of you to notice that problem and fix it,” or a “Thanks for making me feel less lame about XYZ,” or a “I love having you and Cinnamon as conference roommates!”

A few people got a speech. The speech always ended with me telling the person how much I value them, but it still took a pretty long speech to get there. I talked Warren’s ear off about how our brains try to trick us into insecurities and about how people need to be more sincere. Rusty’s speech was in the form of an outline that was like

  1. blah
  2. blah
    1. blah
    2. blah
    3. blah
      1. blah
      2. blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

or something. Oh, and during most of these speeches, I cried a little. But that was okay, because I’M OWNING IT.

(It’s not lost on me that giving people a giant speech about my problems in order to tell them I think they’re neat is nothing if not self-absorbed. Baby steps, though.)

3. If I’m not familiar with your genuineness, I don’t care about your snark.

xoxofest at yu contemporary

xoxofest at yu contemporary

I spent Sunday in a sort of relaxed stupor. Mostly I sat at a table on the first floor of the building where XOXO was being held, puttering around on my phone (I have a smartphone now! I’ll be back to defend myself later), writing, or talking to people whenever they came by. Ryan sat with me for awhile, and we picked up a conversation we’d started a few months ago about Twitter comedy. I’d told Ryan that I didn’t like so-called Twitter Comedy, that thing where people just tweet a bunch of jokes that are So! Carefully! Crafted! and sometimes funny, but don’t ultimately mean anything to me. He’d asked me to be more specific, but I couldn’t at the time.

That day, Ariel had tweeted a link to this article, which sort of boiled it down for me. Twitter Comedy feels like it’s all coming from one general viewpoint, one I agree with but get tired of hearing about. Ryan said that maybe my problem is that I don’t really do a lot of that boring stuff mentioned in the article. I spend my time writing, reading, or making tangible objects while watching old TV shows. He’s right that I don’t do all the same things as Scott Simpson’s Boring People, but I do recognize myself as one of them to an extent. I’m an atheist with fancy jeans who likes steel-cut oats and Mexican Coke, and I definitely do not stop talking.

Then we got into a discussion about snark. I said that Twitter Comedy reminds me of that thing people do where they make fun of things because it’s easier than saying what they really think. A whole lot of that goes on at web-related conventions, both SXSW and XOXO, and I’ve always had a hard time with it. Part of the reason, I think, is that snark belies the fact that the snarker (and the snarkee for that matter) is a real person with feelings. We’re all real people with feelings, but if someone’s only made of jokes as far as I can tell, I have no evidence of Real Person or Feelings and therefore have a hard time remembering that those things are there. When I’m surrounded by a lot of snark, I end up feeling like I’m the only person whose feelings get away from them sometimes. I’m the only person who deals with depression, or panic attacks, or sitting down on a bench and being scared to stand up. Everyone else is fine and wonderful and perfect and has no problems.

But, Ryan said, you follow a lot of people on Twitter who make snarky jokes. What makes them different? And that was when I blurted out the thing that boiled it all down for me: “If I don’t know your genuineness, I don’t give a shit about your snark.” And that’s really it. To enjoy your jokes about how everything sucks, I need proof that you do not actually think everything sucks. Or, if you do think everything sucks, I need proof that you have a personal reason for thinking everything sucks. I have a lot of jokey Twitter friends that I might unfollow if I didn’t know them otherwise.

Obviously this is just my personal take on snark. I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who don’t need proof that people are real like I do. I’m a very fragile and sensitive person (OWNING IT), but I know not everyone is like me. And I also know that snark is something people use deliberately to avoid the emotional peril of being a real person with feelings. If that’s what you’re doing, I understand, because I’ve done it too.

4. It’s time to get out of my own head.

Because the thing is, people don’t just offer up genuineness apropos of nothing. They offer it up as part of an exchange of ideas, or an exchange of vulnerability, or similar. I can get as angry as I want at people being snarky instead of genuine, but how do I fix it?

I fix it by asking people about themselves. Where are you from? Have you been to Portland before? Do you like the festival so far? What have you liked most? It’d be hard for someone to answer those types of questions in a non-genuine way, and hearing those answers will help me see people as real, will help me get out of my own head, will help me stop thinking constantly about what other people can do for me.

So, if I met you in Portland but didn’t ask you anything about yourself, I’m sorry. I should have, because you are interesting and cool! But sometimes I live in the back of my head instead of in the front.

(I know that a lot of the talks at XOXO addressed vulnerability, and I wish I had seen them, but I only had a festival pass. I look forward to watching them online and finding out that other people said all this stuff before, and better than I did, and recently!)

(I don’t always love to get comments on my posts about health, mental or otherwise, but in this case I welcome them. In fact I might feel weird if nobody says anything. SAY STUFF, PLEASE.)

20 thoughts on “owning it: snark, sincerity and panic at XOXOFest

  1. So I’m reading this while sitting in a bar, deep in the back of my own head, after my weekly therapy session. And I’m nodding because my therapist was just pointing out the importance of asking questions. Anyway, you’re definitely not the only one who feels this way, and thanks for being willing to own it.

  2. I love having you as a conference roommate, too. You’re fun to be around, even when you’re talking too much because you’re anxious. You don’t suffer people who are full of themselves, and remind me that we’re all rockstars so why be shy and worshipful around the ones with the fame? From where I stand, you’re strong but vulnerable, and I love that about you.

    While you were freaking out about not being able to find everyone, I was in the same boat, with a dead phone. (I still haven’t gotten your texts, although my iPad at home did.) Whereas you had an anxiety attack, I had a bout of depression (brought on at least partly by being dehydrated and hungry). I sat down on a bus bench and tried to figure out what to do, and got down on myself for ending up alone miles from my friends, for having shitty phone service, for not knowing how to talk to the new people I met at the event at Panic’s office earlier, and a million other things. I scarfed down an emergency snack, got on a bus, and promptly found myself going the least efficient way downtown, causing me to get even angrier and down on myself. If I hadn’t gotten a chance to walk a few blocks and calm down before entering the W+K party, I would have been a pissy mess the rest of the evening.

    I share that to point out that you’re not alone. We all deal with this stuff every day in different ways, even the ones who seem just fine. But if we talk about it and help each other, we’ll all get better, and it’ll get easier.

    So yeah, own it. I’ll own it too, and we’ll all own it together.

  3. I don’t know if you and I have talked about this and I suffer from mental illness as well. I have chronic depression that I’m well medicated for but when I’m off on my meds or a unique stressor hits, I can spiral very similarly to what you have just described. Ru, Leia and many others have had to do the Ryan role for me several times. I guess I wanted you just to know you aren’t alone.

    Also I am very much against the snarky to be snarky that sometimes overtakes people in conference settings. My experience is that it’s a defense mechanism and in some ways a way to find a conversation point that people can agree on. I like your gestalt shift approach to bring them back to real.

  4. The advice at the end of the “You are boring” article that was so important to me was the part about ASKING QUESTIONS and REALLY LISTENING. I wish I could pretend this simple lesson wasn’t so profound for me, but I suppose as a blabberface it’s not surprising that it was. I was like “Wait, I could ask people questions? And really listen? AND ASK MORE QUESTIONS?!” It totally impacted the way I engaged with for the remainder of my time at XOXO.

    PS: next year we’re totally going to do Karaoke and it’s going to be the most amazing thing ever to balance out all the fail that happened on Friday afternoon this year.

    • A fricking men.

      I think it was Nigella Lawson who once said “The best way to be interesting is to be interested”. Sounds about right!

  5. Awesome post, girl. (And great comment, Andrew.) I know exactly how you feel and I just want to send you some more Chicago love. Depression and anxiety fucking suck, as I’ve been writing about the past week, too. Go as easy on yourself as you can. You are definitely not alone. Xo!

  6. The timing of this is interesting, for two reasons. First, because a lot of what you address re: not being the protagonist of the world resonates with me, and these are thoughts I’ve had before. Second, I was just thinking today about how I discovered your blog oh-so-many years ago when Cruel.com featured Ryan’s blog piece about the summertime destruction of the Dodge Omni. (I’m Chloroform on Tumblr, not stalking you, I just have many faces on the internets.)

  7. Wish I knew you were feeling blue when I bumped into you a few times. I’m in favor of owning it. The friends worth keeping will always understand.

    Also as one of your dumb acquaintances, whom you follow on Twitter, I wish I could say the stupid jokes were going to stop. I can’t make ’em stop.

  8. At some point last week, maybe after I’d seen some post of yours on Twitter, it occurred to me that hey, we were in the same time zone for a change, and I still have a phone number for you from when you visited Seattle and maybe it was still the same number, so I could text you hello! But then I chickened out, I guess thinking “oh she’s busy having fun at XOXO and it might seem weird to get a text from me out of the blue”. I wish I had texted, it might’ve helped.

    This is an excellent post, well thought out. Point 4, YES. It’s a serious problem for me, living alone, spending a lot of time alone, especially late at night when there’s no one I could reasonably call to talk to if I’m spiraling down in my mind. And so I’m aware that when I do spend time with others, particularly if I’ve been feeling down lately, I may dominate the conversation by pouring out misery me me me me me. So it’s good to keep point 4 in mind.

    I care about you a lot. I know many others do too, some of them have spoken up already, above. We all hope the best for you and will help as best we can.

  9. “If I don’t know your genuineness, I don’t give a shit about your snark.”

    I loved this. It is how I feel about the Internet (mostly) these days.

    In case it doesn’t go without saying, I care about you.

  10. irt owning it. i’ve suffered from panic attacks since my mid-teens (so, coming up on 30 yrs of this crap! guh), and i spent the first 10yrs trying (and failing) to hide it from people. once i owned it and shared my shit and was clear with people that sometimes i just need to up and leave, i was WAY less stressed out about being out in the world, therefore, i had less attacks! funny how that goes.

    and also, “If I don’t know your genuineness, I don’t give a shit about your snark” is right on the money!

  11. First, let me say – I’m glad you’re owning it. I’m glad you’re talking about it. We all have different levels of what we can cope with. At this moment, I am less fragile than I have been in the past, but I’m still more fragile than perhaps the person next to me. Who knows? All I can do is manage my own fragility. So many other SAHMs *seem* to handle the day-to-day stuff better than me, but I can’t really know that from appearances and so can’t let it dictate how I feel about what I can manage each day. So my kid’s snack doesn’t look like a pinterest spread? So what? At least they ate today. :)

    Snark bothers me, too. It can very easily feel like bullying if you’re making fun of someone’s different opinion or idea. So I can really relate to #4. I wonder sometimes if I’m just too sensitive, but then I realize I don’t care – if it bothers me, it bothers me.

    Anyhow, hugs to you. I’m glad you’re moving forward and opening up. I like you the way you are – no sunglasses needed.

  12. Hey. I love this. I’m really glad we met.

    There is so much I want to say about this but it all can be summed up with: YES.

    I’m having a lot of feelings today, and nothing wants to come out right, so maybe if I say “I totally get all of this, way down deep, oh man do I” that will suffice for now. I think owning it is so, so great and so, so hard, and so great for being so hard. And girl, I love your socks.

  13. Though I am still a producer of snark and other facile attempts at cleverness, I’ve been working for several years on sincerity, since several friends told me independently that they thought I didn’t like them (or anything at all). I’ve not yet managed to stop the sarcasm and negativity, so I’ve been trying to get my relationships and the atmosphere around me to a positive balance in favor of genuineness by overwhelming the negative things I haven’t yet managed to stop saying with a greater number of positives–what you call word favorites.
    I haven’t thought of it quite that concretely before, though, so thank you. Your insights are yet again helping me.

  14. Your insights help me too, even though we’ve never met and most likely never will. Thank you for giving us a peek into other people’s realities — I also make the mistake of thinking I know what’s going on with other people and understand what they’re thinking, when really, none of us should be making assumptions like that. I’m glad you reminded me.

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