Just Thinkin' ...on Magical Thinking

About a year ago, I read a very inspiring book by the author, Joan Dideon, called The Year of Magical Thinking. I say ‘inspiring' because her ability to take a deep look into her thoughts and emotions following the tragic and sudden loss of her husband, John, with both clarity and humor was (and is) an astounding ability to me.

Since then, I've had a heightened awareness of the term ‘magical thinking'. I initially thought that Ms. Gideon had come up with a stunningly descriptive term for something that most children - and I include my own inner child in this group - do on an almost daily basis, which is to assume that we - through our mere presence or thought processes - have the ability to impact or influence people and/or situations in ways that is ‘other worldly'. But it turns out that Ms. Gideon did not originate this term. Much to my disappointment (and fear of institutionalization), ‘magical thinking' has an actual definition:

The belief that one's thoughts, words, or actions will produce an outcome that defies normal laws of cause and effect; the belief that one's words have the power to make things happen.

So, stated with absolutely no attempt at political correctness at all:

I've lost it.

I've fallen off the cliff.

I'm working without a full deck.

All my dogs aren't barkin'.

I am in serious trouble.

Okay, between you and me, Dunstable Commons reader, I am admitting my tendency toward ‘magical thinking', which I now know to be a symptom taken seriously by the psychiatric community. I do so with the absolute certainty that you will withhold judgment, and not attempt to commit me to the nearest psychiatric facility against my wishes, until you have at least finished this particular column.

Like all good potential in-patients, I've been keeping track of my symptoms ever since stumbling upon the definition of ‘magical thinking' and, though in some people these symptoms seem to ebb and flow based on everything from hormonal cycles to the phases of the moon, I'm pretty sure my symptoms are seasonal. I know this to be true because they pretty much begin and end based on one, simple phrase:

"ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL?!!!"

My assessment of my own situation, based on extensive research and interviews with the appropriate experts, is that I have a moderately serious case of Scrimmageline Personality Disorder with related Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (SPD/OCD). Don't even bother to Google it. You won't find it. I haven't had a chance to publish my research yet.

But I can share some of the specifics that have used to bolster this self-diagnosis. These are absolutely true instances of magical thinking on my part, all of which have taken place during football seasons past and present.

• In the ‘80s, along with sporting foolishly large hair, I also held the belief that if I put my hands over my head and held up seven fingers that my then favorite Oakland Raiders would clobber any attempt by the Steelers to move the ball forward (‘77' was my favorite defensive player's - Lyle Alzado's - number).
• During the 2001 Patriot's season, the boys lost their first two games, won their third, and then blew their fourth. With a 1 and 3 record, I still had faith. It was 2001, September 11^th had happened, and I was just so certain that a team named the Patriots and wearing red, white, and blue had the RIGHT to win the Super Bowl and make us all smile. I bet my Dad-In-Law (straight win-loss, no points) $10 per game for the entire rest of the season. He lost out big time. I knew why, too. I could get all weepy and patriotic and say the reason was because of the whole red, white, and blue thing, but the real reason is this: My Dad-In-Law had insulted my own Tedy Bruschi. There was no way he was going to win that bet.
• When we (note: WE) actually made it to the Big Game in 2001, I was extremely nervous. I pulled on my official team jersey (number 54 of course) over my t-shirt, put all my New England themed food out (New England Clam Chowder, Cape Cod Potato Chips, Samuel Adams Boston Larger, Boston Baked Beans....you get the picture), put my Tedy bobble-head on top of the TV and hunkered down with family and friends. Our first possession didn't seem to be going as well as I wanted and I got very frustrated. Then, out of nowhere, I exclaimed, "Oh! I know! We're on offense...duh!" and proceeded to remove my Tedy (DEFENSIVE PLAYER) jersey. We were a little more consistent on offense once I did that (the jersey, of course, was immediately donned again once the defense hit the field. Duh.).
• If the Pats are doing poorly and I'm in "my chair", I will leave said chair and pace a bit to see if that helps. If they do well at that point, I will not sit down again until something goes wrong. Then I'll see if sitting down helps. This holds true for any action - from folded hands to stretching.
• If I don't have Tedy Bruschi wallpaper on my computer during the Patriot's season, they can not win.
• My Tedy bobble-head, Bo Schembechler bobble-head (Connection: Tom Brady went to Michigan) and nested Patriots team (one of those egg shaped Russian doll things where the pieces all fit inside of each other) all sit out on my mantle when the Pats play because, if they don't, the Pats will obviously lose.
• My lucky blanket during Pats games is actually a Pittsburg Steelers blanket. Don't ask. I don't know why, but it's worked a lot (not during last season though - and no, I did not wear my Pittsburg blankie to my friends' house to cheer on Pittsburg in the Super Bowl last year. That would just have been WRONG.)
• I know it would be really hard for the Pats to win if I didn't fly my flag on my house on game day.
• I know that, when all else fails, we need to have my son, Sam, rub his St. Christopher medal during each play. At points like that, it is all we have left to do to help the Pats toward victory.

So there you have it: A representative sampling of my own magical thinking and the basis of my SPD/OCD self-diagnosis. I must thank you for holding off in your judgment to this point. The fact that the men (and/or ladies) in white coats have not yet arrived at my front door has been reassuring to me. Oh! Before I finish, and in case any of you happen to be an actual EDUCATED psychiatric specialist, I should add that I have been experiencing the odd hallucination as of late. I could swear that I saw Troy Brown acting as the Patriots quarterback the other night.

Now you really are going to make that call, aren't you?

Thanks for readin'.
Lisa