Haunted by the empty seat that should have been his girlfriend’s, Keith Anderson shares the moment he hates.
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On Tour with the Rolling Stones
Confused thinking. Sleepless nights. Unknown feelings. Difficult lifestyle.
That was my personal life in the spring of 2002. Lost to explain what I was experiencing, I was thick headed about recognizing my mental illness.
I still tried to enjoy parts of my life, although it was a struggle. And I used to love traveling , especially to see a concert.
In the early spring, the Rolling Stones announced a tour, Forty Licks, to celebrate 40 years as a rock band. I was and am a huge fan, having seen them in 1999, so I went online and purchased two tickets for me and my girlfriend. We were set to see them at the first concert of the tour, in Boston on September 2nd. It’s a great city, with food, people and history to love.
I had one problem. I hadn’t told my girlfriend.
My life got worse that summer. Sleepless nights became sleepless weeks. I slowly began to cut off relationships. Solo lunches became common. I continued to practice law; work was the one aspect of my life I’d thought I was still capable of controlling and understanding. It was my “after work mind” that was in a deep fog.
As August rolled in, I started to feel pressure. I still hadn’t told her. I didn’t understand why because I was unable to rationalize the situation, which confused my mind even more. Nothing made sense.
I love the Rolling Stones. My girlfriend was the most special wonderful woman I had ever dated. I remember one evening early in our relationship, she wondered why I would want to be with her. To me that was simple—she was all I’d ever wanted and she even had a cool name. I told her simply,“ I want you in my life.” Words that didn’t and don’t come easily for me.
We were supposed to be sharing this excitement, seeing the Stones in concert together. Still, I stayed silent.
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I read my journal from 2002 a few days ago. I have kept journals off and on since 1986. The words from that summer are not lengthy, but are very unsettling: ugly, scared, lost.
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It’s the last week of August and I still haven’t told her. The concert weekend arrives, I disappear and go to Boston, alone, telling no one where I’ve gone.
I walk around Boston with no purpose, emotional, my tears flowing constantly. When I sit on a bench in Quincy Market, I’m shaking, crying, trying to hide my private display in a very pubic place. What is happening to me?
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Concerts are exciting. Fans from around the world come together for the Rolling Stones. People gather at the venue. We wear Stones shirts from past tours. People laugh, share a special time. It’s a true Worth Living moment.
Not in Boston. Not for me.
I take my seat beside the empty seat that should have been my girlfriend’s. Unknown emotions surface. I am not crying, just experiencing an outpouring of feelings I’d suppressed or hidden. Tears flowed. I am still haunted by that vision. The empty seat. I hate that moment of my life.
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“I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door I must have it painted black
Maybe then I’ll fade away and not have to face the facts
It’s not easy facing up when your whole world is black”
~”Paint it Black”, The Rolling Stones
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Oh, the concert—I guess it was good. But enjoyment, even a Stones concert, was impossible at the time. My mind simply could not process joy.
Needless to say, upon my return home, I had questions to answer. Where was I ? Why did I go alone? What happened? I had nothing to say because I didn’t understand. Not knowing made my mental turmoil even worse, made me restless and more anxious as I searched my unraveling mind for an explanation…to no avail.
Six months later I had my mental breakdown.
With months of therapy, I began to understand my behavior at the concert.
I came to realize that my work as a lawyer allowed my professional mind to pretend I was full of self-confidence, self-esteem, and self –worth. I’d been fooling myself that all was well in order to continue practicing at a high level.
My personal mind had come undone, starting in Boston.
Why alone though?
My girlfriend was special, I was not. She was wonderful, I was not. She was a superstar, I was nothing. I didn’t deserve to be happy, didn’t deserve to with her. My going alone was a result of my non-existent personal self-worth. I was meant to be alone and have no life. Going alone also provided me a way to escape, to hide from everyone. Hard to explain, but mental illness is a tough one.
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I have been to six Rolling Stones concerts and they map out my life with depression quite well.
“Give me a little drink from your loving cup.
Just one drink and I’ll fall down drunk
I’m the man who walks the hillside in the sweet summer sun”
~ “Loving Cup”, The Rolling Stones
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