Pod Man Out

In the various versions of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, bad things always happen when you go to sleep.

The story of soul-stealing aliens taking over humans by creating replacements in giant pods has been made at least five times since Jack Finney published his 1955 novel--with yet another one reportedly in development.

I’ll always prefer the 1956 original with Kevin McCarthy, but it’s a testament to the story’s enduring creepiness that filmmakers keep coming back to the concept to give it another try.

Think about it: you get up one morning and find your friends and family all look and sound the same, but you know it’s not really them. And if you nod off, as Kevin McCarthy warns us, “you’re next!”

Sleep can be my weakness, too, and I got a firm reminder on that fact on Saturday—Independence Day, ironically enough--when I zonked in front of the TV.

I had spent a wonderful day with my sister, our first day out together since Covid-19 muscled into our lives in March and turned reality upside down.

Other than one random meeting on the street a few weeks ago, where we were both masked, our contact over these last few months has been by phone or by Zoom, by God.

Normally, we’d go into Manhattan and see what’s going on in the city, but social distancing precautions have put that on ice, so we walked around the neighborhood on a beautiful summer day and enjoyed each other’s company.

On the way to her apartment, we came upon a Mexican restaurant and we treated ourselves to two fabulous burritos, which we, of course, took back to her place.

We watched some TV, took a post-dinner walk, and called it a night. It was a great time, given the current circumstances, and I’m extremely grateful for it.

When I got home, I decided to chill and watch an episode of “The Alfred Hitchcock Hour” I had recorded earlier in the week.

Life is But a Scream...

It seemed like a good idea…until I went to sleep.

I have been making strides with my anger management using a variety of techniques, including mindfulness, prayer, deep breathing, and visualization.

I know I have a long way to go, but I sincerely believe I had made progress in this area.

However, I notice that when I fall asleep in front of the TV, the demon tends to get loose. I'm awake and functioning, but old resentments and bad memories are bubbling to the surface, while my internal alarm system is hitting the snooze button.

It’s like the convicts see the prison guards are asleep in the tower and they make a break for it.

So, on the day we celebrate freedom, I was wrapping myself up in emotional chains.

I was cranky, irritable, and far-too-easily in touch with negative thoughts and raging hostility.

I finally got hold of myself and went to bed, but I woke up this morning feeling ashamed and defeated—two perfectly useless responses that will only keep me stuck in this unhealthy pattern.

Okay, so I unleashed the beast and it bit me square in the ass. Now what?

Part of the problem is that it took me a long time to admit I had a problem with anger. For the longest time, I’d freak out about something, calm down, and return to my life without ever acknowledging my trouble.

Years ago, a shrink told me that I have a “reservoir of anger,” but it took me a long time to understand what he was saying.

As a result, my various coping mechanisms are still kind of new on the job; Dr. Jekyll is still an intern while Mr. Hyde is a seasoned psychopath. And, of course, this awful shutdown isn't helping matters for any of us.

My plan is to regroup and get back to work on my faults. When I’m tired, I’ll just go to bed instead of turning my evening into some kind of endurance contest.

But if I find a giant pod under my bed, I’m getting the hell out of there.