These heavy boots are not made for walking
As mentioned before, Wonderguy gave me Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer as part of my “Goin’ to New York” vibe. At first I was skeptical because I’m not particularly interested in child protagonists/narrators. But Oskar is a very special kid and we got along well. Much better than I had ever expected.
Before I continue I just want to clarify that this is not a review but rather an account of my reading experience and how this book came just at the right time. That said, let’s continue.
Oskar and me
Apart from a few special peculiarities that make him all the more ‘human’ (though also at least ten years older at times) and the fact that I too (like most of us) lost someone dear to me, Oskar and I share another distinctive and at times very important feature: heavy boots.
I read the first chapter of A Brief History of Time when Dad was still alive and I got incredibly heavy boots about how relatively insignificant life is, and how, compared to the universe and compared to time, it didn’t even matter if I existed at all.
I feel ya, Oskar. I do. I will not talk much about the book itself, because this time the connection with one character feels too strong and personal, an aspect that gets more important because of my current mental state. Instead, I focus on how reading about heavy boots makes someone with very heavy boots feel at the moment…
Oskar won my heart and mind in one passage that describes a situation I know perfectly well, though obviously in different contexts:
It had taken us four hours to get to her home. Two of those were because Mr. Black had to convince me to get on the Staten Island Ferry. In addition to the fact that it was an obvious potential target, there had also been a ferry accident pretty recently, and in Stuff That Happened to Me I had pictures of people who had lost their arms and legs. Also, I don’t like bodies of water. Or boats, particularly. Mr. Black asked me how I would feel in bed that night if I didn’t get on the ferry. I told him, “Heavy boots, probably.” “And how will you feel if you did it?” “Like one hundred dollars.” “So?” “So what about while I’m on the ferry?? What if it sinks? What if someone pushes me off? What if it’s hit with a shoulder-fired missile? There won’t be a tonight tonight.” He said, “In which case you won’t feel anything anyway.” I though about that.
It’s well in the second half of the book, p. 240, that Oskar describes this inner turmoil, but this was the moment I knew I will forever love this book, and this character. Because I know heavy boots, I know exactly how heavy boots feel, and I know how hard it can be to make something feel even ten dollars, let alone a hundred dollars. Sometimes it feels impossible, way out of my league. And every now and then, this ‘sometimes” becomes ‘often,’ and ‘impossible’ becomes ‘unbearable.’ Because these boots are so heavy I can hardly move. And because I’m a grown-up, I know that I’m on my own, that in the end of the day, I’m all alone in my head, alone with my thoughts, fears, and feelings. Alone with my heavy boots, custom-made for me.
‘Heavy boots’ – what a beautiful analogy
And these days my boots are very heavy. Though I’m looking forward to seeing NYC again, even look forward to presenting a paper and meeting fellow academics and people interested in my field of study, I dread the emotional and physical tour de force it will take until I get there. And I dread all these thoughts, floating through my head and messing with my synapses, much more than the fact that I will be awake and travelling for 20 hours.
Fear, so much unnecessary worries and panic: terror attacks*, plane crashes, murder, death, mayhem. All that is possible — hardly anything is likely to happen exactly at the time I am there. (See * to add some irony to the story) After all, this is the rather safe hemisphere of this tormented planet. I’m a rational person, I know that. But I also know panic attacks, anxiety, depression. Or, as Oskar describes it more appropriately: heavy boots.
Oskar is actively working to counter his heavy boots, mostly by keeping busy, inventing stuff, designing jewellery and the like. This seems a good strategy though Oskar’s heavy boots and mine are two totally different things and what works for a fictional nine-year-old boy might not work as well for me. I’m not good at inventing and I’m not interested in jewellery; best case scenario is reading, worst case scenario is cleaning, decluttering, or rearranging stuff like there’s no tomorrow. Because a clean and tidy environment helps me to survive my mental chaos.
If nothing else works, this always does.
‘Heavy boots’ – what a difficult reality
At least most of the time. But not right now. And even though I feel like a whiny kid, I feel so stupid for not being able to get through this like all those times before, I know I reached a limit. I already had a lot going on in the last few months; this additional project, though it is a great opportunity and something I really look forward to, seems to be too much. Too much for my already hyperactive mind, my perfectionism, my aim of juggling different jobs and ventures simultaneously.
So I called my therapist today. I haven’t seen him in 6 years. It’s time for a reunion.
*Not-so-fun fact: There was an “attempted terrorist attack” during my time in New York though thankfully no one was seriously injured and I didn’t even know what was going until friends and family started calling. Later that morning when walking towards Lower Manhattan, I realized something serious must have happened due to all the military and security personnel in the area. As far as I know, the incident was later called the 2017 New York City Subway Bombing.