First Steps, Picking Up What I Put Down

Sunday was a lot of fun, tinged with the sad reality of the moment.

First, I woke to find more positive feedback than I thought the algorithm would allow. As anyone who pretends not to be on constant lookout for positive attention would tell you, there’s nothing like the buzz you get from hearing that people like a thing you did.

I tried to modestly accept the positive feedback while deflecting thanks and appreciation back to everyone who said something nice. Honestly, I needed the positive feedback more than I even knew. To those who did—thank you for the love and encouragement. You know who you are.

Then, I had the pleasure of driving my Grandma Mary to church. She is 92 and one of my favorite people on the planet. She is a proud rebel and still has all her marbles. I’ve known her my whole life and have had the pleasure of working for her since ’93. She has asked the Lord to let her live to 100. Her faith is so steadfast that I just take it for granted that she will be here for at least another eight years.

I don’t go to church with her. I just drop her off and fellowship with friends I inevitably run into while making my deliveries. I don’t go to church anymore, but I understand why people do. Part of it is just the reassurance you get from going to the same place and seeing the same people week after week.

I recently went on a valley-wide tour of churches I grew up in. It felt surprisingly good to see the same people doing the same things they were doing when I was there doing it with them. It’s reassuring to realize that all the people you know and love are still really out there. And if you’re like me, they think you’re a grade-A badass and can’t wait to give you a high-five.

That’s really all anybody needs.

We gathered at Burst of Butterflies to paint the pottery we made at Mom’s kitchen table. Unfortunately, Mom wasn’t able to join us. I checked in with her in the morning, and she was thumbs up for the day.

I got to the studio and started to worry about how Grandma was getting there. I asked Mom. She texted back that they had her. I said, "See you soon." She let my dad break it to me at the studio.
Bummer, but I loved introducing all my nephews to something new that was just a part of my life growing up.

I realized recently that I had a short window to make a big impact on my four young nephews. They’re only going to be impressionable kids for a short time, but I’m going to need help with heavy lifting for the rest of my life.

Of all the people I get to be, being Cool Uncle Ryan is my favorite guy. From a purely selfish standpoint, it feels better than being “the other Uncle Ryan.”

I was glad Grandma was able to make it. We sat next to each other, and I used the glaze off her palette—green and red for her Christmas tree and my Swamp Thing. Overall, amazing memories were glazed, and everyone will have a little item to remind them of this season in our family story.

After arts and crafts, I got to spend the rest of the day watching football and drinking with my oldest and favorite friends. I didn’t actually watch any football, but I did get to make a bunch of my favorite people laugh. One of my pals has recently taken up the craft of making killer cocktails. I cannot overstate the positive impact this new hobby has had at our get-togethers. If you can, I highly recommend making this addition to your friend group.

Before I started stand-up, I would show up to every party with a set list of all the funny things I’d thought of since the last party. The next morning, I always felt like a big hit during my post-party hangovers.

Then I started stand-up and didn’t need any extra attention. This meant I wasn’t “on” all the time; introverted Ryan started showing up to every event that wasn’t a comedy performance.

I was getting all the attention I needed from the shows. I was satisfied to just be around my people. I didn’t feel like I needed to perform anymore. It was less fun, but I felt comfortable clamming up.

It reminds me of the weekend I got to host for Gilbert Gottfried at the Tempe Improv. Everyone wants to know what it was like to hang out with him. Was he really Iago all the time? Obviously, no. He was fit as a fiddle to sit right next to me for two hours without another word past hello. Seriously, Tempe Improv, do you really need a two-hour call time?

On the second night, I brought my wife backstage, and they spent an hour sharing parenting stories. At the end of the night, I led the crowd in a round of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” to celebrate his 65th birthday.

The happiest I saw him all week was when I told him I saw a gal leave the club crying after his Mackenzie Phillips bit. He genuinely laughed and said, “Ha! Must have struck a nerve.” In that split second, I got a glimpse of what it would be like to be his friend.

He thanked me for a good weekend and said, “Let’s do it again next year.” Then he had to go ahead and die on us. We never really know if there’s going to be a next time. Today I decided to engage extrovert Ryan while I was with my friends, and it was the best.

We traded coping mechanisms for life and strategies for getting our teenage children to pull their weight around the house. I suggested everyone should try picking up a serious physical disability. I’ve found it to be a highly motivating strategy.

As for coping with life, I’ve found Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) to be very helpful. ACT is a CBT model developed by Steven Hayes. ACT combines eastern mindfulness meditation practices with some good old western “get ’er done.”

I found The Confidence Gap by Russ Harris to be a very accessible introduction to DIY ACT. The big insight from this model is how to exploit a mindfulness meditation practice. I bought into practicing mindfulness meditation before I knew what you could do with it.

The most common pushback I get when I discuss meditation is from people who spiritualize it or make it a moral issue. I come from the Christian evangelical world, so I understand this misconception around “meditation.”

In ACT, mindfulness meditation is not about emptying your mind. It’s about filling your mind and focusing your attention fully on the present moment. Through regular practice, you train yourself to notice when your mind is wandering. Then you practice resilience by bringing your attention back to being and breathing in the moment.

Where this really comes in handy is when you find yourself in a new, high-stress situation. Let’s say you want to become a stand-up comedian. It’s normal to panic the first hundred or so times you get on stage. Then, because panic is such an awful feeling, it consumes all your attention. This tends to have a negative impact on people’s performance.

By practicing mindfulness meditation, you begin developing the skill of self-observation. If you can notice that you’re panicking, you can acknowledge it and move past it instead of being consumed by it.

On a daily basis, it’s a super helpful way to stop yourself from thinking about how much you hate and want to kill your spouse for just being so damned annoying!

My favorite trick to ending any negative loop is to thank my brain out loud for whatever negativity it keeps bringing up. I’ll notice and say, “Hey brain, thanks again for the ‘I’m a loser’ story.”

It feels so good! So, so good, to be able to turn off the worry or anxiety and just breathe.

The real trick is being able to notice what you’re thinking about while you’re thinking about it. If you practice regularly, you’ll be shocked by how fast you’ll notice your ability to take advantage of your new superpower.

I’ve developed a pretty good habit of using my breathing to keep things from getting too dark, but I have been neglecting the regular practice that gave me the skill to start with.

The first habit I’m restarting is a regular mindfulness meditation practice.