Lapeer Area View

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What would Michael Keaton do?


 

 

I was a thumbsucker for a long time. Probably too long. But not as long as Dustin P.* He’d sit at his desk and arrange himself, contort his body in such a way that he was able to hide behind one knee and indulge himself all afternoon. Just a marathon of self-soothing hidden behind his purple sweatpants. Every day, after recess, he’d sit and extract every drop of solace he could from his improvised pacifier. To his heart’s content. This was the sixth grade.

Anyway.

I had trouble putting it down, too. I mean not in the sixth grade. But I was old enough to know that I shouldn’t be doing it at school. I was in kindergarten when I made the decision to go cold turkey and dry myself out.

That’s actually not true. I was 7. Which felt way too old at the time, but now I look at 7-year-olds like toddlers.

Nope. Never mind. I just heard myself, and 7 is still far too old to be a thumbsucker. Moving on.

I remember this liquid stuff that my mom would put on my thumb that was meant to help me with the transition, a kind of Chantix for thumbsuckers — some kind of acidic, bitter compound. It was unbearable. And, make no mistake, it was painful to let it go. But it was necessary and I knew it. I’d tell myself that Michael Keaton wouldn’t be caught dead with a thumb in his mouth, and that if I ever wanted a shot at romance with Mrs. Norton, this thumbsucking stuff would have to go.

Now, most of the time I’m able to convince myself and my inner thumbsucker that I’ve arrived, that I’ve become the adult I was always supposed to be. I still remember what I thought it would feel like to be an adult — carrying a checkbook, buying furniture, driving Mrs. Norton around in my dad’s Plymouth Laser. Not a thumb in sight.

And, to be honest, it all feels about how I expected it to. I mean, I genuinely don’t know if they even make checkbooks anymore, but the other stuff happens on a semi-regular basis. Minus Mrs. Norton and the Laser.

My whole point here is that I’ve realized that change requires discomfort. It’s unbearable. It’s painful. It’s an acidic, bitter compound. But it’s absolutely necessary for growth to occur. Everyone experiences change, and it’s always uncomfortable. But it’s important to recognize it when it’s happening. Sometimes, you just gotta embrace the acidic and ask yourself, ‘What Would Michael Keaton Do?’

Otherwise, you end up hiding behind your purple sweatpants, sucking your thumb and thinking nobody notices.

Meanwhile, some kid’s in the back, taking mental notes that will be published in the local paper 25 years from now. Metaphorically speaking. (* Name and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals. You know who you are.)