James Lee Stanley

Anxiety.   How do you handle it?     I got this question from a friend who has been on the fringes of the biz for years.   Took the big leap when he was young and got a major label deal, but then just lost his steam somehow.

We were talking about anxiety, stage fright, loss of confidence and it got me to thinking about the first (of only two, so maybe I am more blessed here than I realized) real anxiety attack.

My second wife had run off to Berkeley with a leather freak and was probably up there whipping herself into a frenzy, while I was back at the house packing my meager belongings and moving into a friends home (and sleeping on his couch).

I was lying there in a funk, when I simply made the decision that my life was going to be better because of this change and not worse because of it.   That in itself is a major epiphany that I never considered til now.   Making that decision was one of the best ones of my life.   It is difficult to remember in the midst of a caca storm, but it always serves you.  

Decide that what ever happens here, you are going to be better off than you were before.   That forces you to make the effort to figure out how this could possibly be better than it was.   The answer gives you a goal and a new purpose.   I really recommend trying to integrate that perspective into your life.

But I digress…back to my decision to make things better.   It was my second morning in the living room.   I had to make a change.   I thought that instead of remaining on my pal’s sofa indefinitely or renting another house, I would go to the bank and find out if they’d loan me the money to buy a house.

Turns out they would and I went from there to a real estate agent.  I told her exactly how much money I had (the exact sum the bank said that they would lend me) and we got in her car and drove to the first house on the list. 

I was so full of heartache that even though I was moving in a positive direction, I could barely hold a conversation on the way there.   

We pulled up in front of the house that obscured by a ten foot high wild rose bush or six.   You couldn’t even see the house from the road.    “I’ll take it.”  I said.

She was stunned.   She demanded that I at least get out of the car and see the house.   “It really doesn’t matter,”  I moaned.    

Okay,   time for a break…I’ll finish this tomorrow.  I want to get practicing for my Sunday gig with John Batdorf (www.johnbatdorfmusic.com)  and back to recording this new CD.