Friday, June 26, 2015

More Than Thirty-One Tragedies

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
-- Leonard Cohen
Justice in America, specifically the Sixth Amendment, theoretically requires that a person accused of a crime has the right to a speedy and public trial. In theory there is no difference between theory and reality -- in reality there often is.

I had a backpack years ago that held books and a calculator with a replacement value of several hundred dollars. My backpack was stolen -- it and its contents were never recovered. I was angry at once again becoming a victim. Part of my anger was directed at myself for leaving it where it could be stolen. Several days later I was still in a foul mood which had a negative impact on job interviews I had lined up just ahead of my college graduation.

Thursday, June 18, 2015

On Recovery

Do you get scared to feel so much?
To let somebody touch you?
So hot, so cold, so far so out of control
Hard to come by, and harder to hold
Some people get by
With a little understanding
Some people get by
With a whole lot more
-- The Sisters of Mercy
So there are mental health challenges that are debilitating and frightening but once the right meds/treatment are found and taken as prescribed, recovery is absolutely possible. I have met people that this has happened to and have heard their stories. It is awesome that there are happy endings to their challenges which often lead to a renewed lust for meaningful and productive lives.

I also know a few people whose challenges are not only treatment-resistant but, I would argue, recovery-defying. I am one of those people. We are a relatively small slice of the mental health pie -- somewhere around a few percent to 30% depending on which definition of "treatment-resistant depression" is used. I am not the poster child for the group by any means but based on the stories I know about, there are a few patterns. We often hate how misunderstood mental health challenges are -- how often media, both fiction and "news", paint us with a broad brush which perpetuates ridiculous stereotypes. And how often this sets the stage for others offering platitudes, ad nauseam, about holding onto hope, about things happening for a reason, and about curing depression because it was easy for their Aunt Gertrude after she tried a detox cleanse advertized on late-night tv.

Thursday, June 11, 2015

Policing My Thoughts

I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running 'round my brain
I guess I'm always hoping that you'll end this reign
But it's my destiny to be the king of pain
-- The Police
My anxiety that is frequently triggered by doctors has all sorts of connections to my thoughts. Specifically errors in my thoughts that lead me to a clustering illusion or, perhaps, just plain old confirmation bias. Let me walk through a recent situation and a therapy technique that can help me police my thoughts.

Weeks ago my wife developed joint pain so I took her to a small family doctor's office, with whom we had been established patients for over a year. After the pain was not controlled by the initial suggestions, I took her back to see Dr. A on Friday. Dr. A was late -- my wife was his first appointment of the day. After an exam, Dr. A suggested physical therapy and also a prescription painkiller. Dr. A agreed to write a prescription so my wife could go to a particular physical therapist that I knew was good. Although he could have handed us a paper prescription, he suggested that we use the office's electronic "patient portal" to provide the physical therapist's particulars (name, fax, etc) then he would have a fax sent to the physical therapist's office. At home later that Friday, we used the patient portal to send the info to Dr. A so he could have the fax sent. My wife's next day off was in 6 days so I expected on Monday to make a Thursday PT appointment.

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Mileposts I Have Not Passed, Yet

They go:
Me and your mom have been noticing lately that you've been having a lot of problems, you've been going off for no reason and we're afraid you're gonna hurt somebody, we're afraid you're gonna hurt yourself. So we decided that it would be in your interest if we put you somewhere where you could get the help that you need.
And I go:
Wait, what are you talking about, we decided? My best interest? How can you know what my best interest is? How can you say what my best interest is? What are you trying to say, I'm crazy? When I went to your schools, I went to your churches, I went to your institutional learning facilities? So how can you say I'm crazy?
-- Social Distortion

Around kindergarten my dad divorced my mom so he could quickly date, live with, and marry a younger woman who had had a troubled life. This wasn’t dad’s first attempt at playing savior – before I was born he taught history and English to poor, inner-city kids. He remained in the education field after I was born, transitioning into a job to improve teaching methods with the latest theories. How odd it was for him to care so much about helping others while he shifted from being my parent to pretty much being a seagull manager. This term is used in business when a work situation needs attention and a manager swoops in, makes a lot of noise, craps on everything, then takes off. Dad, the eternal optimist, made his noise giving me his assessment seen through rose-tinted glasses, simultaneously voiding my issue of the moment while crushing a little boy’s eggshell-thin ego.

But dad only had me on some weekends – the rest of the time I lived with mom who entered the workforce to keep a roof over our heads. In first grade I convinced both parents that I no longer needed after-school daycare and so became a latchkey child, skateboarding the several miles to and from school alone.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

More on Egolessness

Doctor, doctor won't you please prescribe me something
A day in the life of someone else?
-- P!nk
I have a sociological understanding of people but it is startling to me when I see a single person so in touch with one's ego while being out of touch with everyone around her -- a common example is a person talking on her mobile phone when ordering in a Chipotle-type restaurant, as if the time of the people in line behind her (and the efficiency of the workers) never crossed her mind. Another is a person making obviously illegal maneuvers in a car across lanes and around (or over) barricades with the expectation that although he does not have the right-of-way, he expects everyone else in traffic to yield the right-of-way to him (and, stupidly, on some level assuming the road conditions in addition to everyone's brakes, tires, other vehicle systems, and perception-reaction times are sufficient to avoid collisions or worse). I suspect the last time I could tap into that level of self-absorption was during my Terrible Twos.

Certain experiences have made people-watching dull for me. I people-become. Sometimes I come up with a great impersonation and sometimes I have greatness thrust upon me. I have honed my Self-Effacing, Ice-Breaking, Peace-Making, Mind Reader act to near perfection and use it in most social situations. I do not think I can read minds, of course, but I can tell with high precision when someone just wants to talk about themselves and/or is looking for some empathy. I usually make an effort with weary checkout clerks and waitstaff and speak their name as I pay them some compliment (I am reminded of Dale Carnegie who wrote: “Remember that a person’s name is to that person the sweetest and most important sound in any language”). I always make an effort with anyone handling anything I am about to consume -- Paula Poundstone, remarking about customers when she waited tables at an IHOP: "When people would be rude to me, I would touch their eggs. They didn't know; I felt better; it worked out." (I hope this does not make any germophobes reading this avoid breakfasty establishments).

I have radically accepted society as it was and as it is. I have seen the incredible breakthroughs and the gut-wrenching genocides. The promising democracies and the promises of dictators to their nations (and the not insignificant numbers of people governed by one that want to be governed by the other, grass being greener and all that). The peace-makers and the war-mongers. The mutually-exclusive groups that claim to have the Truth and the wise people who nod at them politely then get back to the tasks of recording, archiving, and revising the repositories of knowledge as new information becomes available. Note I did not say I liked or approved of society, just that I have accepted it as is.

Everyone has the potential to improve society, the world, and beyond if we rely more on our brains and transcend primal instinct that has outlived its usefulness. So the next time you refuse to spend the 20 seconds required to return your shopping cart to the cart corral because your time is way more valuable than that of other people, remember that we have abundant resources and so we do not have to behave like cavepeople in life-or-death situations -- we have evolved. What do you say, does it make sense to rationally act evolved as a member of society or to REact on impulse, out of control, like an animal?

Monday, November 17, 2014

Winter Poem

Due to a therapy group that I wanted to attend today being full by the time I arrived, I attended a different sort of therapy that uses one's creativity. I wrote a poem that I rather liked on the topic of winter so I thought I would post it -- I do not plan to have posts like this very often:

Trees with voids
Whistling replaced with howling
Between gusty blusts
There is still no silence, no stillness
The forest does not die
It creeps ever so slowly
And the creaks, crunches, rustles
Push the rotting stuff to become
A smorgasbord for the fungi
For the microbes
For the unsung heroes of
Everything

Saturday, November 8, 2014

Depressive Realism

And we'll accept the things we cannot avoid, for now
For now, for now, for now
But only for now (for now)
Only for now (for now)
Only for now (for now)
Only for now
Only for now (for now there's life)
Only for now (for now there's love)
Only for now (for now there's work)
For now there's happiness
But only for now (for now discomfort)
But only for now (but now there's friendship)
Only for now (for now)
Only for now, only for now
Sex is only for now
Your hair is only for now
George Bush is only for now
Don't stress, relax
Let life roll off your backs
Except for death and paying taxes
Everything in life is only for now
Each time you smile (only for now)
It'll only last a while (only for now)
Life may be scary (only for now)
But it's only temporary
Everything in life is only for now
-- Avenue Q Soundtrack
There is a theory, criticisms of which I will set aside for the sake of discussion here, that depressed people make more accurate appraisals of the world than non-depressed people do. This "depressive realism" may be the one thing that depression has going for it.

A positive mental attitude. Always looking on the bright side. A sunny disposition. Seeing the best in people. Wearing rose-colored glasses. With the possible exception of the last term, these are descriptions of behaviors of people who see reality with a good but nevertheless biased worldview. But reality is good and bad. And everything between. So consciously or subconsciously focusing on any part more than the rest of reality can understandably lead to inaccurate appraisals and memories.