Break A History
Posted by fxckfeelings on January 28, 2013
Everyone will tell you that there are valuable lessons to learn from bad experiences, but unfortunately, there are some valueless lessons as well if you misinterpret your misfortune. For example, some people read too much into their painful experiences and become afraid to take new risks, while others learn almost nothing and have to retake the lesson/get screwed again and again. The answer is not to sample your crises like Goldilocks—trying to find a response that is not too much, not too little, but just right—but instead, to ground yourself in values that help you determine what risks are worth taking, what feelings are worth keeping to yourself, and what’s truly worth learning for the future.
–Dr. Lastname
The end of last year I was able to stop taking my anti-depressants after about 4 years. I feel good, my drinking is in control (though I do sometimes feel the old instinct that, when I’m stressed, a drink will help, though after one sip I know it won’t). I’m free of my fear of going outside my apartment or with groups of people. I did see a therapist, which helped me so much, though we never found out what triggered my depression, so I have a deep worry that it might come back. I know there is no point worrying about something that might never happen (I fully believe that its just a waste of time), but I doubt my relationship will survive another ride on the depression roller-coaster as it was nearly destroyed the first time. Also, my partner is concerned as I hope to have kids at some point and my partner has read that postpartum depression is worse if you have suffered depression before. The thought of being ill again terrifies me and I want to avoid that black hole anyway I can. Should I try to work out why I got depressed before? Is postpartum depression something I should be concerned about what the time comes? If I can somehow prepare myself then I’m hoping that if/when depression comes knocking again I might be able to put up a better fight.
After experiencing and surviving the pain and repercussions of a bad bout of depression, it’s normal to fear recurrence, but that fear is often worse than the thing itself; that’s certainly true with depression, as well as heights, spiders, and gays.
In fact, a PTSD-like syndrome of anxiety is common among people who’ve survived such painful and intense symptoms, so it’s important that you pay as much attention to managing the fear of depression as to treating the depression itself.
It’s understandable that you want to figure out a way to prevent recurrence, but reassuring yourself that everything is going to be alright is as misguided as parents’ insisting their kids they can grow up to be whatever they want; whether you’re hoping to rid yourself of depression or reach the major leagues despite being a one-armed girl, the odds aren’t good, so don’t make the mistake of reassuring/promising yourself that it won’t happen again.
In reality, as with all problems, real consolation comes not from putting the trauma out of mind completely, but from knowing that, whatever happens, you survived the first time and acquired a lot of weapons you’ll use to fight depression if and when it comes again.
Of course, fear will tell you that you and your relationship barely made it, but the fact is, you did make it, which is a great accomplishment. Now you’ve found treatments that work and, most importantly, you know that depression is just a bunch of symptoms, it’s not who you are; it wasn’t personal and you weren’t lazy, just unlucky and sick. Don’t get so freaked, then, by the harm a postpartum depression might do to your kids and/or marriage that you forget that child-rearing and maintaining relationships is always risky, and that you have developed good tools for managing that risk.
Yes, you have a chance of having a post-partum depression, but instead of terrifying yourself with thoughts of that possibility, investigate what you can do to decrease the risk. For one thing, you’ll find you can take antidepressants, even while pregnant; their risk of harming a fetus is low and outweighed by their ability to protect you (and the fetus) from its crushing symptoms.
And don’t fall prey to the notion that because medication has risks, it’s automatically unsafe to take, or that you’re weak or dependent to do so. It means you have an obligation, as with any danger, to weigh benefit against risk by sizing up the chance that your symptoms will come back and deciding whether treatment is worth it. So ask your doctors (and do your own research) to inform yourself about the odds of relapse. If they’re high, find out what the risks and benefits are of taking antidepressants as a preventive vitamin.
Instead of letting depression persuade you that you’ll ruin your family by making your partner and children miserable, treat it like any other disabling illness that tests most families, sooner or later, and teaches them how to survive hard times. Get your arsenal ready for fighting the negative thinking that depression both causes and is caused by.
Don’t let your experience make you a depression-phobic; remember how well you handled that depression, take a cue from the gays, and counter that fear with pride. We’d gladly see that parade.
STATEMENT:
“I can’t think about depression without feeling overwhelmed by fear. I know, however, that fear distorts my thoughts and that my experience with depression has made me much more knowledgeable and better equipped to manage it. I will prepare myself and take any reasonable risk that will allow me to stay as healthy and functional as possible, regardless of whether it recurs.”
I don’t see how I can go back to working in my family’s car business because my brother is such a dickhead. I’m broke and I need the work, and my father doesn’t mind if I work there, but my brother and I have never gotten along, and the last time we worked together he was so insulting, day after day, that I finally picked up a tire iron and we would have killed one another if they didn’t pull us apart. I promised to bury the hatchet and keep my mouth shut—as I said, I need the money—but I was back at the shop for barely four hours when he started up again and I had no choice but to punch him in the face. My goal is to teach my brother to leave me alone, so I can work at the family business when there’s no other work around.
Most of us have an instinct to push back when we’re pushed, particularly if the pusher is aggressive and insulting (and a blood relation). No words are necessary and we don’t have to be in a bad mood—all it takes to get triggered is getting cut off in traffic or a dirty look from a spouse. Maybe this instinct helps us protect ourselves from predators by showing them we’re too much trouble to dominate, but more often than not it just makes assholes, inmates, and/or corpses out of everyone.
Unlike the woman above, whose depression has taught her fear and pessimism, you don’t seem to have learned anything from your many fights. Like her, however, your response is based on feeling, not reason, so it’s both about learning from experience, as well as restraining your emotions.
Your brain is obviously wired to fight back, so if someone pushes, you feel obliged to return the favor, even if you aren’t necessarily looking for a fight in the first place. Trouble is, once that instinct gets hold of you, it gives you no choice but to fight, and the results in the real world usually suck for everyone who isn’t a Hollywood hero. Tough guys get arrested, sued, betrayed, beat up by other tough guys, and, like the rest of us, old and too weak to throw much of a punch.
So instead of just following your instinct towards fury, ask yourself whether you want to satisfy that instinct or control it. Sure, satisfying it feels better in the short run but, you guessed it, always ends badly. Controlling it is hard, takes lots of practice, and it’s what the authorities want you to do, which may make it harder for you to decide whether it’s what you want to do for yourself. Until you control that fighting instinct, however, there’s nothing anyone can say that will protect you from endless fights with your brother and others.
Wanting to control it is no guarantee that you can, and neither is therapy. If you decide to control it, you will probably need to work at building your control day by day, one day at a time, like AA, getting religion, or a gym membership. You can call it anger management, but you’d be better off calling it humiliation tolerance and/or finding goals that are more important than insult and injury (like making a living or being a good guy) and reminding yourself about them, hour by hour. The only thing you have to fight is the urge to fight, and the tire iron won’t do you any good.
STATEMENT:
“I can’t stand to feel pushed around and I take pride in being the guy who never starts fights but who knows how to finish them. I know, however, that fighting always ends badly in an unfair world and I have goals that are more important than what anyone says or does to me, particularly if they’re assholes. I am proud of myself for pursuing those goals regardless of how assholes make me feel.”
