Shut Up! Week, Part 1

Posted by fxckfeelings on April 12, 2010

Discovery Channel always does well with its sharks, so this week, we’re going to try cases that are variations of the theme of “Shut up!” In many ways, sharks and “shut up” have the same effect on people, be they swimming in actual water or metaphorical self-pity; it’s painful and humbling, but if you come through your confrontation intact, you feel indestructable. Now, if you please, shut up and read.
–Dr. Lastname

I’m a 58-year-old gay man and it’s a long time since life has been any fun. I’ve been single for some time (with no real prospects of a relationship), my friends don’t seem to have time for me, and at the end of a hard day’s work running my own business, I’ve barely broken even and have nothing to look forward to but spending the evening alone. That’s when the depression closes in and I can’t stand living. I write all this because I know that I’m a miserable failure, and that facts, not depression or any other mental illness, are behind my reasoning. I mean, when I tell my few close friends how I feel, they tell me I’m being too hard on myself, but if you’re almost 60, alone, and a financial mess, doesn’t that mean you’re a loser? My goal is to be real about myself.

Sounds like your goal isn’t to be real about yourself, it’s to be mean to yourself because you’re in a bad mood. If you were to reread the above paragraph when your mood wasn’t so shitty, you’d see your treating “facts” with the same care as Bill O’Reilly.

So, to quote Bill, Shut up, I don’t want to hear it. You wouldn’t talk like that to a friend, or even probably your worst enemy, so don’t do it to yourself.

Sure, the pain in your life is real, but there’s a monster in most of us that speaks up when we’re hungry or poor or lonely and says, “Look what a mess you got yourself into, you worthless piece of shit.”

If you’re smart and have high standards and a well-developed sense of style, the monster will comment on the bad clothes, dull conversation, and depressing colors; it’s very specific and discerning, because it’s the meanest side of yourself. It will give meaning to your pain, alright, by telling you that it means a lot and it’s your fault.

It’s your job to keep that monster from influencing your values. I assume you’re working hard on your own business, because you care about being independent and self-supporting.

I also assume you have old friends, because you care about friendship and maintaining relationships, regardless of whether someone is wealthy, clever, or stylish. You haven’t mentioned doing anything wrong; you’ve just described the kind of bad luck that often happens to everyone at one time or another, with or without depression, or a partner, or a great job.

If you have good values, be prepared to use them. If you want to talk “facts,” remind yourself how hard you work at your job and your friendships. Your goal isn’t to get me or anyone else to confirm that you deserve to feel bad; it’s to keep your perspective and not let the negative thinking of loneliness and bad luck undermine your sense of pride.

STATEMENT:
“My life sucks right now, but I respect what I’m doing. I work hard and stand by my friends when all my efforts are relatively unrewarding and, on top of that, I’m fuckin’ depressed. I can’t wait for my luck to turn but, until it does, I wouldn’t want to do anything differently, and that’s what counts.”

I have struggled with bipolar disorder for almost ten years now, but sometimes I can’t see the point. The last time I was admitted to a hospital, I was actually raped by another patient, and the whole experience left me with fears and nightmares I just can’t get over. I’ll never let my family or a psychiatrist put me in a hospital again. My goal is to find a psychiatrist who will give me the support I need so that I will never, ever have to go into a hospital.

If you had diabetes and got the best possible supportive care from the best physician in the world—you could even marry her—you might still need hospital treatment if you got an infection, overdosed on peeps, or just fell into a manhole.

So, while you have every right to feel traumatized by your assault, don’t paint yourself into a corner because of it. When it comes to this anti-hospital stance, (or pro I-need-to-be-nurtured-very-carefully-or-else), you have to shut yourself up.

Thinking about the risks logically, it becomes clear that you probably wouldn’t get raped a second time, and there would be steps you could take to make it more unlikely. So, in reality, you aren’t facing a choice of rape vs. death, but rather terror vs. death.

Terror or death is a decision most of us face every morning before we get on the subway; that’s life. There would be no other choice.

Unfortunately, you can’t change the way rape gave you nightmares, and you can’t avoid the possibility that you’ll find yourself in the same neighborhood. What you can do, however, is bear the terror—the fear of fear—so that you can promise yourself the best possible care and manage yourself as carefully and respectfully as possible.

Your goal shouldn’t depend on finding the kindest or most available psychiatrist, or extracting promises about what he or she would never allow to happen. Your goal should depend instead on your own ability to ignore fear while benefiting from your bad experiences to make good treatment decisions.

Yes, bad things might still happen, but you can be sure you will have done everything to protect yourself while taking the risks necessary to manage a bad illness. If you go to the hospital, something bad might happen, but if you need care and you don’t go, something bad is guaranteed.

STATEMENT:
I may never be able to shake the rape nightmares or promise myself that a mood swing won’t become catastrophic and push me into a loony bin. I can swear, however, that I’ll take reasonable care of myself and that, when I’m well, I’ll try to focus on living life, caring about friends, and ignoring pain, regardless of whether I can get it to go away.