Consent-minded

Posted by fxckfeelings on March 2, 2015

Human beings have figured out how to get to space, train a dog to recognize letters, and make a sandwich where the bread is actually chicken, but we’re still generally at a loss when confronted with the offer of help. It shouldn’t be that confusing, but accepting help can be necessary while feeling humiliating, or it can be humiliating while feeling necessary, and either way, the answer is remarkably unclear. Once you know what you need the help for and whether it’s necessary for your personal goals, however, then you’ll know whether it’s good for you, regardless of how it feels or looks to anyone else. It might never be easy to accept or refuse help (or eat meat on two pieces of poultry), but it’s easy to figure out whether accepting is the right thing to do.
–Dr. Lastname

I know I’ve been a total fuck-up for the last few years, and my family thinks I’ve blown through all my savings and gone into debt besides, but the truth is worse than they think. And because I know it’s all my fault, I get really depressed and angry at myself, which makes it impossible to get the courage and energy to try to get back on track. I’m too afraid and ashamed to talk to anyone, so my friends and work contacts have pretty much disappeared. Insanely, my parents and brothers still care enough to offer to help me get back on my feet, but I know they’re just offering out of pity, and I won’t be able to live with myself when I lose their money and let them down. My goal is to rescue myself without my family having to pick me up.

You might have thought your mom, little league coach, and/or high school girlfriend were full of shit when they tried to console you for a poor result, but they were right when they said that a good effort is more valuable than a great deal of success. Equating success with winning would explain why you feel like such a loser right now.

The higher your standards and/or self-opinion, the deeper the rut when your winning streak ends and the steeper the metaphorical climb back to an acceptable normal. That’s why, at a time you most need energy, focus, and social skills, shame for being less-than-excellent keeps you trapped in an emotional crevasse.

The only antidote to feeling like you’re insanely ungreat is to remember that life is hard, luck is important, and you’re always doing right if you’re ready to work and trying to be independent. Basically, you can’t hold yourself responsible for success or failure, just for the effort you make to achieve the former and avoid the latter.

Your pride might tell you otherwise, but you’re never a failure if you accept your family’s offer to help; it’s this type of “help is for losers” attitude that laid you so low in the first place. As long as you’re doing your best to continue the path you started—trying your hardest to work hard and make a living—then you should always be proud of yourself, regardless of what others think or how bad you look.

Get whatever help you need, then take all the time you require to create smarter standards and meet them. Again, they’re not standards for being world champion, but for not making unacceptable compromises because you won’t settle for anything less than the gold.

Ask yourself what you need to do, and receive, in order to regain your independence. Don’t let shame or pride interfere with your efforts, whether that means borrowing money or consulting with a shrink to see whether depression is holding you back. As long as you’re ready to work hard and do what’s necessary, respect yourself. If you’re ready to do what’s necessary and have your priorities straight, people will be more willing to help and less likely to criticize.

In any case, you’ll know what you’re doing is worthwhile, you’ll respect yourself for hard work no matter how many creditors call you, and you’ll be grateful for whatever help good people are willing to give. You’ll be able to appreciate that old advice about the importance of effort, and, unlike your high school girlfriend, you won’t be left unsatisfied.

STATEMENT:
“I hate myself for being a total loser, but I know I have ability, I’m not afraid of hard work, and there’s much I can do when I’m not depressed and my attitude is right. I will work because I believe in taking care of myself and I will respect myself for whatever I do, whether it succeeds or not.”

I have a bad back and white hair, but I’ve been doing OK working the counter at my son’s diner (formerly my diner) for the past twenty years and I really love the work. I wanted help for some unsteadiness so I went to the doctor, and he sent me to a neurologist, and he said I’d had some strokes, was showing signs of dementia, and needed treatment. All I wanted was to feel less dizzy, and now this jerk is trying to ruin my life. My son tells me I’m the same old guy I’ve always been and the rest of my family is satisfied, so who the fuck is this doctor to tell me I’m brain damaged. My goal is to get this neurologist to back off and leave me alone.

As you get older, so there’s always at least one organ that doesn’t work the way it used to or the way you need it to, but there’s usually more, along with at least one hip. You’ve got a good attitude about getting old, however, because you like to work, do what you can, and not complain. Your neurologist could learn a lesson from you.

Yes, your brain scan may not look normal, your gait may not be smooth, and your memory may not be good at picking up new information. All that would make a neurologist who is over-concerned with normality and good-looking scans get worried.

What matters to you (as opposed to your neurologist) is not whether you’re as sharp as you’ve ever been, but whether you can still be useful and take care of yourself. You’re not afraid to ask your family whether they think you’re competent to do a good job, and so far, the answer is yes, so their second opinion is the one that counts.

So, if you’re OK with the life you have, there’s no reason to think one neurologist’s opinion could possibly ruin it. He’s a doctor, not a probation officer; if you don’t want to take his advice, he can’t lock you away. After carefully considering his input, you can politely reject his proposed treatment. Or you can tell him to shove it, but there’s no reason to be rude.

Have confidence in your ability to know what’s important, even if your memory is no longer as sharp as a tack; you did the right evaluation and, by your standards, the neurologist didn’t. Now respect your own priorities, thank the neurologist for his contribution, and get back to work.

STATEMENT:
“I hate to have a doctor tell me I’m not mentally competent but my own methods tell me that I am, and I trust that they’re based on experience and common sense.”