Page 8 of Keeping the Score

“That’s why superstitions are always about something we’re insecure about, or afraid of. Something we don’t have control over.”

“Hmmm. Also true. I don’t have control over the award.”

“Exactly. There’s a lot in life we don’t have control over.” Which pisses me off. But I’m working on it.

“Yeah. But Iwantto control it.”

I smile. “Don’t we all? I’d like to control every shot that comes at me so I can block it, but that’s not how it works. And not having that control creates anxiety.”

She looks at me searchingly as she lifts her wine glass to her lips, then says, “You get anxious about games?”

We’ve known each other for a while, but our friendship is pretty casual. We’ve never had a conversation like this.

“Sure. Nerves are normal. You have to learn how to use them to your advantage.”

Nerves are normal. Anxiety is a normal reaction to stress. I learned that from the therapist my parents made me see years ago, when they got concerned about how stubborn and obsessed I was about having a routine. How I got so focused on hockey to the exclusion of everything else. I think they were worried about a neurodevelopmental disorder, and maybe I do have a disorder, but it was never bad enough that it was diagnosed as that. I did a bunch of cognitive behavioral therapy and talk therapy. I got medication for anxiety and learned why I needed so much routine and structure.

“Also,” I add, “superstitions can enhance performance.”

She bites her lip and her eyes dance. “Are you talking about athletic performance or sexual performance?”

Damn. I respond to her playful question with a smile. “I’m not superstitious about my sexual performance.”

“Ohhhh. Okay. I get it. Confident in the sheets, anxious in the crease.”

I burst out laughing. “Hey, that was good.”

She grins. “Thanks.”

“Although I am not anxious in the crease. I’m the Net Ninja.”

She bites her lip on a smile. “Okay, then.”

“But seriously, there is evidence that the psychological benefit of reducing anxiety can improve performance.” I lift one shoulder. “Even little things like saying ‘good luck’ or ‘break a leg’.”

She nods, lips pouting thoughtfully. “Hmmm. Interesting.”

“And then if it works, you don’t want to tempt fate by not doing it anymore.”

“So that’s why you have so many. They work for you.”

I nod. “Of course, my natural talent and hard work help, too.”

“Of course.” She tucks her tongue into her cheek. I seem to have distracted her from her nerves. “The lucky socks? Those work?”

“Well, even if they don’t, they don’t hurt anything. It’s easier to wear the lucky socks than take a chance on things going horribly wrong.”

“Sure. But could it get to a point where superstitions can become a fixation? Could it actually interfere in your life?”

Ugh. Nailed me on that one. I shift my gaze across the room. “Sure. It could happen.”

“That would be terrible if you missed a game because you couldn’t find your lucky socks.” She says it with amusement, but it’s not really funny.

“Terrible,” I agree uncomfortably. “So you don’t have any superstitions?”

“Well… I do always make sure my bra and panties match.”

Oh, Jesus. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

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