In the afternoon I went to the calisthenics park near Puerta de Toledo. A young man in his early twenties walked up to the biggest dude, a black guy, and asked if it was ok if he did some exercise. He expressed puzzlement and said of course, our eyes met and we both shrugged, and when the young man passed by he said hello. I greeted him back.
He introduced himself, his name was George and "he worked in tech". "Oh that's wonderful, I do too, what do you do?", with much courtesy he expressed that he would just warm up and we would chat in a bit, I said yeah of course and I went to exercise too.
He took of his shirt and he was jacked, not influencer level jacked but enough not to pass unnoticed. I did a floor exercise (actually on low bars) that requires a lot of strength and coordination, and he commented that he was working on his standup push up and demonstrated. Twice he fell over to the other side by trying to power his way through the handstand without control. He was out of strength to demonstrate proper technique.
He excused himself by saying that he was sick, and the lymph nodes in his armpits were swollen. I said it was good that he moved his body, it helps dissipate the inflammation which could be the cause of his lack of control. "just take it easy, trying to do a handstand push up while you're sick is asking too much out of yourself".
This seemed to prime something in him, and asked me to speak aside. He confided: "I was the CEO of X company, and I had a breakdown due to stress. After stellar performance they push me aside, despite having a medical diagnosis... Well the medical diagnosis was bipolar disorder and before the crash I had a manic episode..." he trailed off as if not wanting to have to explain it.
I reassured him but offered a dose of reality: most people are relatively stable, but some of us have moods that come and go like the seasons. He smiled and he could relate to what I was saying. "But it sucks, like, I used to be so social but now I don't want to speak to anyone... well anyone who doesn't understand what I'm speaking about, which is obviously not your case".
I smiled and told him I knew exactly what he meant about the social part, charm just flows effortlessly but now you find yourself awkward and unsure of even how to behave, he nodded vigorously. "How long ago did this happen, the breakdown" I asked. One month ago. They gave me a three month license, and when I come back I'll no longer be the CEO, I'll be the CMO (or whatever, the acronym is irrelevant, he'd no longer be the boss of bosses).
He was obviously a smart guy so I asked him: are you well known in the tech industry in Spain? and he said yes pulling out his phone, showing me articles where they interviewed him in Spanish newspapers, I'm guessing he's "important" in the local scene, he's playing in the minor league and he doesn't even know it.
I knew exactly what happened to him, and what he was trying to desperately do now: his sense of identity is tied to that CEO title and he was going through an identity crisis. I wouldn't make justice to the words that came out of me, but I was surprised myself at the terseness and truth with which I spoke to him, while still keeping it appropriate for his age and stage of life.
I said that for us bipolars those downs are the mirror images of our ups, and that we can only have the up because we have the down. We only suffer because we chase the up and we hate the down. Once you learn to like the down, it evens out. "We build these bodies in the introverted dark times, we explore these existential ideas in those times. We grow a lot. On the other end there's a lot of pleasure but little growth". I said. He nodded vigorously again.
We spoke with very few words, but laded with meaning, and not for long. It's best this way. Too many words makes words meaningless, and too many ideas produce indigestion. He was to accept his foul mood which would accelerate his recuperation so that he could take on the quixotic quest of gaining the title of CEO again. This is if things go well for him.
It is possible that, like me, he found his identity mirror crushed to pieces, and like this guy I desperately tried to piece my mirror together, only to find it was useless: every fragment is a mirror in itself, not a coherent whole, but a collection of reflections of the same entity (yourself). Once accepted, we can pass like gas through the ego cage we create for ourselves.
I feel like I did a terrific job at today's calling, ironically by moving aside and let words emerge from me. He will remember what I said, probably better than I do.