I recently returned from a trip abroad, to those legendary mountains known as the Alps. This was my first big “get on a plane and not scream” vacation since before Covid. Generally speaking, I’m not a vacation taker. I like routine. Lovely, predictable, routine. But even the most boring of calendars needs the occasional electric shock, and mine needed a full Fork-in-Toaster.
I’ve been on mountains before, but this was something different. The Alps are one of those landmarks that are central to tales from my childhood history class. You know… Hannibal and his elephants boldly crossing to invade Rome. The literary birthplace of both Frankenstein and the modern vampire tale. The outlandish cartoon castles of the Bavarian monarchy. These famous mountains had become so mythologized in my mind, they might as well have been in Middle-Earth. And so I expected my visit to be surreal, but I didn’t expect it to be transformative. Healing, even.
See, since Covid, I’ve been dealing with this terrible thing called a “midlife crisis”. Now, popular culture would have you believe a midlife crisis is about buying the big versions of your favorite Hot Wheels, or dating women barely old enough to be your in-home care nurse, or pursuing some stupidly dangerous athletic fantasy, but that’s just how a midlife crisis expresses for alpha males. For gamma males like myself, a midlife crisis is more like you just start doubting yourself a lot more than you used to. This constant doubt leads to constant anxiety, and—if you’re like me, and transmute your anxiety into spine scrunching and jaw-tightening— a baseline level of constant pain. The kind of pain that gets in the way of drawing, which is a real shame because that’s how I used to process anxiety. And earn money.
I’ve been dealing with this unfortunate turn of events for a good two or three years now—modifying my technique so that drawing is less taxing on my body, learning about the muscles of the neck and shoulders, trying to strengthen or massage the ones that are troublemakers. And just plain drawing less. The results have been mixed. But standing on top of that mountain, for the first time in several years, I felt every ounce of anxiety drain away, I felt my body relax, and I could breathe—really breathe—despite the thin high-altitude air. Or maybe because of it. Either way, it was a good feeling.
Of course, it couldn’t last. At some point, I had to return home to Philadelphia, a city that couldn’t be more sea-level. Usually I can’t wait to get home and return to routine, but this time was different. I wanted to be back in the mountains. But, alas, all the city can offer me is the corpse-reek of ginkgo fruit and neighbors who truly believe they’re disposing of trash responsibly if they alley-oop it through the sewer grate. Where is the magic? The intoxication of the surreal? I mean… since coming back, I’ve kept the worst symptoms at bay—but what if they return? What’s my strategy then!!?
And so I’m proud to announce that I will be attempting a daring, adrenaline-fueled free climb of City Hall, Philadelphia’s pointiest building! It’ll be a challenge for sure—but with the support of family, friends and the Guinness Book of World Records committee, I hope to survive and prove that I still have what it takes to be a functional member of society, under the loving gaze of my lord and savior, International Waters Jesus, Amen.
'Draw Stronger:Self-care for Cartoonists "by Kriota Willberg is a little book of exercises the help unwind the drawing muscles. She also wrote the Zine " Pain: A guide to Injury prevention for Cartoonists. There is a sample of her advice on Comics Beat here: https://www.comicsbeat.com/get-a-grip-5-things-you-can-do-to-reduce-drawing-pain/