So right now, I am afraid of something. I’m not going to write about what it is, for two reasons. 90% of you will tell me that I am being silly and delusional. But 10% of you will tell me that I have reasons to be paranoid, which will make me even more paranoid.
About twenty times in the last twenty years, I have gotten irrationally afraid that some exogenous event is going to take away my reputation and my livelihood. The last time this happened was when I wrote that piece for Bloomberg crapping all over the CFA program. It created such a stir online, that a reporter from the New York Times reached out to me to set up an interview. I was filled with terror. It was not entirely irrational to be worried about it; the Times is not a friendly financial publication like Bloomberg or the WSJ or the FT. They have some barracuda reporters. And even with the financial news outlets, you have to mind your Ps and Qs. I was truly worried that this reporter would dig into my old tweets or dig into my past and cancel me.
It took about four weeks to set up the interview, and then it was a little longer than four weeks before the article was published. I actually did great on the interview—I am very practiced in that sort of thing. But I was freaking out. I freaked out for two whole months. Two whole months with a pit in my stomach, worrying about this New York Times piece. I think I was taking Valium, if I recall. I didn’t exactly handle it with grace and dignity. Then they sent a freelance photographer to my office. I was at my all-time fats, busting out of a seersucker pinstripe jacket. I looked like a bloated tick. Anyway, the article went live, and I even ended up in the print edition of the Times. It was fine. The reporter was a straight arrow, and didn’t dig into my past at all. No, I don’t have anything to hide, and that is the point. I have written over five million words in my career, and I’m sure someone motivated enough could find something to hang me on.
The fear was all in my head. I made up a story, I got scared, and I believed it. It had no basis in fact. So far, there is nothing terribly unusual about this—people do this all the time—but what makes this noteworthy is that I do this all the time. I make up a story, I get scared, and I believe it. It happens over and over again. And each time I think the world is ending—and then it doesn’t.
So one of the things I do to give myself some reference is that whenever I get that fear about something—I write it down. In the Notes section of my phone. Over the years, I have compiled a list of about 20 things that I was terrified about, and in each case, it worked out fine. So I will put the new thing on the list, and I can see how every other time I had fear about something, it worked out, but then I say to myself, this time is different. This will be the time that my life really does come to an end. I am doing that as we speak. And the funny thing about this is that I am batting .000, like an American League pitcher in an interleague game, and I still think I am going to get a hit. This time is different. This will be the time I get fucked.
There was a period in my life when I wasn’t afraid of things. I wasn’t afraid of things as a teenager. I was completely fearless. And I wasn’t afraid of things when I was drinking, either—because you can always come home and have a few drinks and chill the fuck out. Take away the alcohol, and you are left with raw emotion. So then you spend the rest of your life trying to deal with those emotions. I will say that it has gotten better over time. One thing I’ve come to understand is the concept of this too shall pass, and the way I feel today won’t be the way I feel a month from now. I will have moved onto something else.
So wouldn’t it be nice to live a life without fear and anxiety? A life of peace? That is what I am slowly working towards, but at the rate I am going, I will never get there. They call it happy, joyous, and free. Quick anecdote. I recently was in New York for my party, and I had a spot on Charles Payne’s show on Fox Business. You know what impressed me about Charles Payne? Here he is with this big show on Fox Business—all kinds of pressure—and he shows up at the studio ten minutes before, and starts chatting up all the cameramen and other workers, backslapping, having a great time. I’m sure his show is pretty much rote at this point, and he doesn’t get nervous, but I was struck by his light and positivity. Charles is happy, joyous, and free, and there’s not a small amount of politics on his show, and I’m sure he has his share of haters and gets dragged under the bus from time to time. You would never know. Truly a remarkable man. That’s what I want to be when I grow up—someone who puts everyone else around me at ease, even if I’m not. It is the ultimate act of generosity.
Most of all, I want to be happy. I am probably making it sound like I am not happy. Well, I could be happier, if I could just get out of my own head. And the only time I am really getting out of my own head is when I am playing music, performing in front of a crowd, with loud techno blasting in my ears. That has the effect of blocking out all the fear, and I can just be free for two hours of my life. That is why I do it. It’s actually not out of ego. Lots of people want to be the star DJ, because it is an ego-gratifying experience, but really, I just want to go to space for two hours and block everything out. Some people take drugs to do this. I just piss off the neighbors.
But I think it’s worth pointing out that otherwise successful people may not actually be happy. They may be filled with fear and anxiety. Look at all the people on the red carpet of the Oscars—how many of them do you think are really happy, joyous, and free? How many of them do you think are battling some kind of demons? Nearly all of them. Dave Chappelle strikes me as a happy person. He has fuck you money and is antifragile and truly doesn’t seem to care what you think of him. But most celebrities are incredibly self-conscious, always trying to do or say the correct thing. Imagine if you didn’t have to worry about that. I worry about it less than most people—I have my own platform and I am responsible to not that many people—but I still have to watch what I say. In case you are wondering, sometimes I am happy, and sometimes I am not. In times like this, where I am obsessing about some imaginary thing that is theoretically going to end my life, I am not happy. So I try to keep busy and get out of my own head.
One part of my brain tells me that, based on the evidence, everything is okay. But then the lizard brain, the primordial part that tells me to find food and shelter and guard against predators, is paranoid in the extreme. But it’s a protective mechanism that has outlived its usefulness. Everything is going to be okay—or at least, that’s what I am telling myself.
This Time is Different
Your writing speaks truth. It's raw and real and your vulnerability in your words hits home. When you are in DJ mode that's not the absence of fear, thats a connection to the strongest part of yourself. Pure joy. Thank you for posting staying real. It matters.l, and I appreciate it.
I respect your wanting to keep your worry private and understand. But I’m curious if this is a personal worry or a political/economic/societal worry. I don’t know much about finance but for about a year now I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that we’re approaching some kind of massive disaster and the feeling is only getting amplified. I feel like we’ve been kicking the can down the road for longer than anyone thought possible and now the bill is coming due. I know I’m not the only one.