Posted by fxckfeelings on October 15, 2009
Accepting that we are all fucked by life is a basic tenet of the f*ckfeelings.com philosophy; there’s a certain zen to it, as we encourage not just being one with the universe and its glory but also with its amber waves of pain. For people who suffer from depression, pain makes an obvious attempt to define your life goal as “I’ve got to stop this.” But killing pain, as desirable as it is, will always compound your troubles if you make it your goal. Your goal is your goal and pain is pain and never the twain should meet.
–Dr. Lastname
I have been struggling with depression for most of my adult life, and I do mean struggling. No matter how many times I find myself going through months at a time of feeling hopeless, angry, and miserable, I know it’s a treatable illness—a chemical imbalance— nd that there must be a way to control it. Over the past twenty years, I’ve been through a handful of shrinks and at least a dozen medications, because no matter how bad it gets, I’ve refused to give up looking for the treatment that will allow me to fulfill the promise of my otherwise lucky life. The problem is that, twenty years into this battle, and I’m still not winning. Treatment works for a while, and just when it seems like things are finally working out for me and I’m in the clear, everything falls apart again. My goal is to figure out how—with what treatment, medication, game plan—to get control of this disease and live a normal life, because I’m stronger than this, and I refuse to let depression get the last laugh.
Hold up—did I miss the morning’s headlines that declared depression a curable illness? Up until yesterday, it wasn’t, and when you think about it, the list of truly curable diseases is an adorably short one. Really, unless you’ve got athlete’s foot, you’re probably shit out of luck.
That said, it doesn’t mean you should shoot yourself unless you’re similarly upset by the incurability of hypertension, diabetes, osteoporosis, high cholesterol, and all the other illnesses that most of us get, sooner or later. Even athlete’s foot isn’t worth it.
The issue here is that if you think that beating an illness means getting rid of it, you’ve lost before you’ve begun to fight. And if that illness is depression, then losing means getting more depressed, which means becoming a bigger loser, ad infinitum.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on October 5, 2009
While being selfless seems like an admirable quality in the abstract, most of us learn early that people with a thing for giving aren’t actually so easy to be around; it’s hard to have an even give-and-take with somebody who doesn’t fulfill the “take” part of the bargain. Selflessness maybe feel good in the short term, but the more you extend yourself while shutting out (or being shut out by) the other party, the more likely you are to end up with only yourself as company.
–Dr. Lastname
I love my girlfriend, and we’ve gone through a lot together; not just living in different cities (which I’ll get to), but also serious health problems. I was there for her for every second of her treatment for cancer, an ordeal that lasted for one scary year, before she went into remission. While we were living together at that point, it wasn’t long after she was in the clear that my father asked me if I could move back to my home city to help him at work—he wanted some help expanding the family business—so I told my girlfriend it would be six months, max, and then I’d move back in with her. But six months have passed, and my dad says the business won’t work without me (although, admittedly, it has in the past), and I don’t think it would be fair to keep stringing my girlfriend along. I love her, but I’m needed here, and I also don’t want to hurt her and be responsible for a relapse. My goal is to break up with my girlfriend and get her to understand it’s the best thing to do.
Some people are born givers; they enjoy giving and, if they don’t think about it, their giving impulses push them closer to whomever needs them most. You might think such selfless givers were saints, regular Ghandi-jis or Mary Poppinses.
In reality—and while most people are loath to admit it—most selfless givers are assholes to everyone but the one who makes them feel most obligated. (Just ask Ghandi’s wife.)
So, my giving friend, I’m going to tell you the same thing I’d advise your ex-girlfriend to say to you: that your goal shouldn’t be to feel better about excusing yourself from your obligation to your girlfriend, but to figure out your own priorities, regardless of your obligations to her, your father, or anyone else.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on August 10, 2009
Some people find themselves suddenly, inexplicably cursed by a life of hardship and pain, while others cruise through a blessed existence of acclaim and luck. Truth is, of course, that the person in pain isn’t doomed to constant misery, and lucks brings its own peculiar, unavoidable hardship; thankfully, everyone of us, in one way or another, is fucked. It’s where we go from there that makes the difference.
–Dr. Lastname
Just a few years ago, in my early 20s, I was a fun, outgoing law student at a top tier school, on the cusp of beginning a promising career in a competitive field that I loved. But then, out of no where, my health fell apart. Without getting into it, I was diagnosed with a rare, chronic disease that causes me so much pain and fatigue that even the simplest tasks have become arduous. I had to drop out of school, move back home, and learn to deal, not just with the physical pain of everyday life, but with feelings of failure and being a complete loser. All my old friends are moving upwards and onwards, like I was once set to do, and all I can do is take it slow and try to cope with this new, brutal reality. Plus, because my disease is rare and not physically obvious (I look healthy), several friends and even family members have decided that I’m not sick, but that I just buckled under the competitive pressure of my law career or that I’m just lazy, and am using a fake disease as an excuse. They say things like, “my joints hurt, but I go to work everyday,” and I just want to curl up and die. Between my own disappointment and their cruel judgment, I’ve withdrawn from social interaction almost completely for a year now. My goal is to not completely isolate myself from the world and maybe even start to enjoy some social interaction again despite feeling self-conscious and experiencing such dismissive attitudes from others.
It’s good that you want to get out of your self-imposed solitary confinement—living like that’s unhealthy, even for people who are physically healthy to begin with—but attaching the enjoyment of social interaction onto your goal is not so hot, especially when you’re suffering from a disease that seems to make enjoying anything nearly impossible and gives prospective friends a case of the repulsive willies.
Problem is, despite your best efforts, enjoyment is out of your control, and if you make a big effort to extend yourself socially and run into crap, you’ll feel like a stupid failure and personally rejected, when, really, it’s your standards that are the problem. Yours and everyone else’s.
A better goal is to work at not taking your pain and isolation personally while working out rational standards for what it means to cope with them.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on July 16, 2009
After our last post’s fun foray into terlet humor, we return to the more somber world of family dynamics. In this cases, two people learn that, while it’s always hard for parents to set limits for their kids, it’s even harder for kids to set limits for their parents.
–Dr. Lastname
I didn’t have a lot of money growing up, so I got a job at the local coffee chain when I was in high school so I didn’t have to rely on them. But I needed their help to go to college, so my dad sold some property to pay my tuition, and told me he was sure I’d succeed and he would expect me to help him out someday. After college, I went back to the coffee shop and became manager, and since then, I’ve actually moved up to a fairly high position in our regional office. I used to make lattes, and now I have a corner office and a car I paid for outright. At the same time, I became aware of how poorly my parents manage their money. They buy things they can’t afford and never say “no” to the other kids, no matter how stupid their requests. Then my father comes to me for money, always for specific bills he can’t pay, like the mortgage, or car insurance. But at the same time, he’s spending money he can’t afford, so I feel like I’m bailing out a sinking ship and my efforts are a total waste. My goal is to get my dad to understand that he has to budget his money and learn to say “no” and that I can’t continue to support him like this without going broke myself. But I can’t stop feeling responsible for saving my family from the mess they’re in.
If your dad could understand and accept the need for budgetary controls, it would have happened three major impulse buys/maxed out credit cards ago, so your goal as it stands now is useless.
Worse than that, even suggesting a budget to him will bite you in the ass, because he probably blames his problems on bad luck, not getting enough help, being too nice a guy, etc. So when you suggest, in the kindest way possible, that he’s a financial fuck-up, you’ll become the scapegoat. You’ll go from being the solution to being the problem so quickly, you’ll get whiplash.
He’ll see you as the ungrateful son who benefited most from his generosity, and now is too selfish to give back. You’ll get angry and pull away, which will unite the rest of family behind him, and leave you shunned, alone, and unable to give them help when they really need it. Your goal isn’t just useless, it’s the perfect shit-storm.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on July 13, 2009
This post might not be for the faint of heart, but then again, life rarely is. After all, shit is inescapable, not just as metaphor but as reality, thus, it’s worth exploring those issues that deal not just with emotional crap, but with crap, period. Here at fxckfeelings.com, we take your shit seriously. Literally.
–Dr. Lastname
OK, I’m having an issue with a guy at work, and it’s pretty gross, but it’s also driving me crazy and nobody will take me seriously. I can’t say exactly where I work, but it’s the kind of bureaucratic place where nobody ever gets fired. Like you’d have to murder someone in the office, and even then, vacation without pay. This guy recently got kicked down to my office, which is pretty small and windowless (it’s a filing sort of thing), and I’m not sure what landed him here—he’s nice enough, although he’s a little creepy around girls—but all I do know is that he farts. All the time. And I know, it’s funny, ha ha, but it’s not funny when you have to spend all day with him and he occasionally bends over to file something and lets one rip in your fucking face. Normally, I’d just bust his balls about it, but he has zero sense of humor, and I think he’d just stare at his feet and say nothing and avoid me in the future. Which would be great, except our desks are right next to one another. My boss thinks it’s a joke and told me to deal with it. But it’s not a joke, it’s fucking gross, and working with him makes my sick, literally. So my goal is to get someone to take me seriously and help me deal with this guy.
Congratulations! You’ve come to the right doctor because, while I rarely care about your feelings, I always take farts seriously. After all, is it possible to feel happy without happy bowels? Of course not.
I’ve often theorized, (if not in scientific meetings, at least at family get-togethers), that farts were the first form of pheromonic communication, before people learned to lie by making sounds with their vocal cords. After all, while assholes often lie, farts do not.
Then the brain routes their message directly to the amygdala, (I’m sure that’s what brain imagists will discover, when they do the necessary experiments), which is, on the higher level, very similar to what happens when you touch a hot skillet and jump back before you realize what’s happened.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on July 1, 2009
Human nature tells us that the best way to solve a problem is to get to the root of the issue, but some problems, like mental illness, have no simple cause and no solution to speak of. In today’s cases, two people need to rethink their approach to mental illness; when you stop looking for someone to blame or a silver bullet cure, you can get to the real business of learning to cope with the reality of the present.
–Dr. Lastname
I think one of my sister’s kids might be mentally ill—he’s 9 and very intense and unhappy—but my sister doesn’t see it, and I don’t know how/if to get her to pick up on it. It should be fairly obvious to her since we saw the same symptoms in our mother, who wasn’t diagnosed as bipolar until we were kids and she had a chance to put on quite a show. I guess my sister doesn’t really understand that our mother wasn’t just a mean drama-queen but actually sick, maybe because she was younger when Mom went to the hospital and doesn’t really remember, or maybe because she’s in denial, or maybe both of those things combined with the fact she and her husband are space cadets that are such hands-off parents they don’t even notice that one of their own children is clearly suicidal. My goal is to get my sister out of the clouds and get my nephew some help, because if something happens to that kid, I don’t blame genetics, I blame her.
As any teacher well tell you, the danger of bestowing your idea of help on another parent’s child is that you have very little control over how parents react, because no parent wants to hear that something is wrong with their child. And their default response lies somewhere between defensive anger and general freaking out.
The freaking out also comes from the fact that it’s hard to keep the urgency and alarm out of your voice, no matter how diplomatic you think you are, and feelings trigger feelings. Suddenly you’re in a perfect storm of hysteria, but hey, no good deed goes unpunished.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on June 28, 2009
A lot of readers, either with amusement or anger, like to challenge the “fuck feelings” mentality; surely, they respond, not everyone’s just a big baby, and there must be some legitimacy to some feelings, given the right circumstances. Those readers might try to use these two cases—the feelings within, and/or the situations that have spawned them—to find the exception to the rule. But if you really think we assign some feelings more value than others, then you misunderstand the rule entirely.
–Dr. Lastname
I know this site has fun with people who whine because the truth hurts, but I want to know whether you can apply that philosophy in situations like mine. My son died in a car accident a year ago—he was just a little guy, bad weather…total freak accident. One day he was fine, the next day, he was gone. My wife was driving, and while I know it wasn’t her fault, I’ve pulled away from her, and she doesn’t really talk to me, either. It’s possible that I’m drinking too much, because I am drinking to numb the pain. Would you honestly tell someone in my position, “fuck feelings”? What would you tell me? I know this is short, but my goal isn’t complicated. I just want to get over the pain of my grief.
From your first question, it seems you think this site confuses whining with real pain, which isn’t our intended message. Pain is what it is—all questions posed on this site involve real pain—and grief over the loss of a child happens to be the worst. At least, we can’t imagine anything worse.
But pain becomes dangerous when you expect to control it, because you then hope for things that simply aren’t going to happen and avoid dealing with what you’ve got, which is a life that can dump terrible suffering on you, for no reason, at a moment’s notice.
Here, your pain is telling you that you need to drink, there’s no point in not numbing the pain of your loss, there’s nothing left in your marriage because your wife isn’t talking to you, you were unable to protect your son, you’ll have nothing to give other kids, and things are just going to get worse. You pain is real, but what its telling you is fucking bullshit.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on May 20, 2009
Everybody has bad habits, but nail-biting is one thing, theft is another. When someone has a habit that is so obviously awful, we’re certain that such bad habits must have an equally obvious and easy fix. These cases show that what isn’t true for junkies also isn’t true for pyros– bad habits are hard, if not impossible, to break.
-Dr. Lastname
My husband and I have tried everything, but we can’t get my stepdaughter to stop stealing. It started with shoplifting at the mall—clothes, jewelry, even shoes a couple of times—but once she got caught and actually sent before a judge, she did some community service and hasn’t shoplifted since. So now she just steals from us. She started sneaking into our bedroom and lifting money from our wallets. When she ignored our punishments and wouldn’t stop, we put a lock on our door, so she started stealing anything else she could get her hands on (and some things, like DVDs, she’d then sell so she could go back to the mall to buy things she used to steal!). She’s not my daughter biologically, but I’ve been married to her father since she was a toddler, so this isn’t acting out due to a divorce. Still, neither her father nor I can control her, and if we do somehow get her to stop stealing from us, I’m afraid she’ll go back to stealing from others and wind up in jail. I just want her to stop.
Sometimes you can’t get kids to stop stealing and they can’t stop themselves. It’s a sad truth that parents and therapists and tough judges and kind reformers don’t have the answer. We all know nice, concerned, fully functional parents who have out-of-control kids. Kleptomania is just nature’s little present to your offspring.
I don’t mean to suggest that we should ever stop trying to help our sticky fingered children stop stealing, but if you expect them to stop, or expect yourself to get them to stop, you can drive them crazy, the stealing gets worse, and you’ll sink into feelings of failure at a time when you need to persevere and stay strong for the long haul.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on May 7, 2009
Since Monday was about anxiety, it makes sense that Thursday should be about the peanut butter to anxiety’s jelly– depression! In these two cases, depression has created urgent circumstances, not just for someone in pain, but for a sympathetic bystander. And, as often happens, the negative beliefs caused by depression are much more dangerous than depression itself.
–Dr. Lastname
Someone I’m close to called and e-mailed me a few times last night about killing himself, and this isn’t the first-time this has happened. The last time I got him to call a hotline and get help, and he agreed to go to therapy, but for whatever reason, it didn’t take, and now we’re back to square one. I’d like to believe that this time is another false alarm—that the fact he tells me he’s going to kill himself means that he wants me to talk me out of it—but how can I ever be sure? When he called last night, he asked me if I wanted to kill myself with him, I said no, but then he hung up before I could ask him where he was. Without a location for him, I didn’t feel like I could call the police, but I did call his parents (they couldn’t reach/find him, either). I don’t know what else to do, and frankly, I’m terrified. Please help me do whatever I can to keep him alive.
It’s dangerous to try to save the life of a suicide bomber, and that’s what certain very angry suicidal people are. It’s dangerous for them as well as for you, because the fact of your caring may give them a witness, a target for their anger, and a sense of meaning to their death.
If you don’t respond to his calls, he may take perverse satisfaction in letting you know he died because you failed him. If you do respond, he may tell you that you’re the only person keeping him alive.
Along the way, he tries to talk you into joining him. Whatever. He puts a terrible responsibility on you for his tortured life, and things go downhill from there.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on April 15, 2009
Today’s cases are a double helping of people who feel like they’ve ruined their lives; one curses a bad choice, the other a character flaw, but both have made the bigger mistake of not being able to evaluate what failure actually means. It’s not that their lives can be 100% fixed, but they’re not 100% broken, either.
-Dr. Lastname
When I was in my teens, I decided to become a priest, because I really believed the priesthood would make my life complete. I fully immersed myself in the church, lost touch with all my friends, and spent the next ten years studying at the seminary, training in the religious life. The more I learned, however, the more I began to question the church’s teaching, and this made a lot of my peers and superiors anxious and annoyed. Eventually, I became disillusioned and finally decided to leave, but I had no idea what I was truly giving up. My oldest friends have educated themselves, found partners, and settled down, while I’m back living with my parents, having acquired no marketable skills and alienated myself from all my friends in the priesthood. You don’t need to lose God to feel like you’ve missed out on life late in the game. I feel I’ve failed myself. My goal is to fix this mess I’ve made of my life.
If your goal in becoming a priest was to be happy, then I can see why you regard yourself as a failure, because, in spite of a huge effort lasting many years, you quit the priesthood and are as unhappy as you’ve ever been, so congrats, the results of this critical decision couldn’t possibly be more negative or disappointing. On the bright side, there are better reasons for wanting to be a priest that have nothing to do with being happy or getting good results. Perhaps you wanted to be a priest because you believe in making the world a better place by helping others and making sacrifices, and, if that’s the case, how can you possibly be a failure?
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