WillSpirit!


∞ Where Mental Skills Heal Mental Ills ∞

A former physician writes about mental health and recovery using insights from life, science, and spiritual practice.








  • Red_Exclamation_DotDisclaimer
    • Dear Visitors:
      Although I trained and practiced as a physician, my background does not include formal instruction in psychiatry beyond basic medical education. This journal presents ideas about treatment philosophy, but must not be considered therapeutic advice. Abrupt changes in one's psychiatric medications can trigger profound cognitive, emotional, and physical symptoms, including suicidal thoughts and actions. Consequently, pharmaceutical agents should not be increased or decreased without supervision by a mental health clinician.

    • ON THE OTHER HAND, your brain belongs to you, and your opinion counts. If you decide that changing your medication regimen will serve your best interest, then I believe your providers have an obligation to help you try to achieve your goals. I want everyone to be educated about their options, and do what will be most helpful for themselves. No one should feel pushed around by dogmatic and/or limited viewpoints, whether those of psychiatrists, anti-psychiatry advocates, or myself.


Working Less and Living More

Work and productivity. Who needs them?

This is a question much on my mind now that I’ve dropped back into retirement. The last post detailed my angst around this topic. Today I offer one line of thinking that helps me maintain sanity in the face of abundant free time.

Freud considered work one of the pillars of successful living. The vaunted Protestant work ethic remains a standard in this country, and it isn’t limited to Protestants or the United States. National economies are judged on the basis of Gross Domestic Product. Corporations celebrate increased productivity in their communications to stockholders.

Each of the sentences in the previous paragraph offers a different perspective on the value of working and production, but they all reach the same conclusion. Psychologists who disagree with Freud about almost everything else would still concur that work (along with love) leads to satisfaction. Religions of all stripes value community involvement, and many embrace concepts similar to the Buddhist one of Right Livelihood. Countries are deemed in ascension or decline depending on whether their economic output is growing or stagnating. And companies push their workforces ever harder in attempts to squeeze out more product per employee.

You can see these perspectives vary in their humanism. Psychologists value individual wellbeing. Spiritual leaders promote communal advancement and personal involvement. Nations insist on expansion. And corporations demand maximal profits. Most readers attracted to a blog like this will recognize the value of individual and collective health but question nationalism and blind profiteering. At least in principle, they would agree with the pursuit of Right Livelihood.

In principle, so do I. But what happens when repeated attempts at productive work fail? How does a person feel worthy when physical and mental difficulties limit employment?

Let me begin by saying that I continue to help out when possible. I try to support my friends. I do a little volunteering. I offer love and attention to my wife and dogs. Judging by the comments and emails, this blog seems to assist others in their growth. These are all contributions that should not be discounted. But my number of hours spent performing anything resembling work is embarrassingly small. I do a little, but not enough to count for much in this culture.

Does that matter? Can we be sure our conditioning to work, work, work makes sense?

Let’s investigate the above realms in reverse order, starting with the corporate. What percentage of manufacturing actually benefits the collective good? My guess is no more than half. The rapacious exploitation of resources and promiscuous marketing of gadgetry only hastens the collapse of our ecosystem. The heavy burdens placed on workers, who toil for subsistence while those higher on the socioeconomic scale reap vast profits, can hardly be viewed as beneficial.

It’s difficult to consider the community of nations healthy when each member strives to dominate as large a sphere as possible. The US struggles to maintain its influence as China rapidly aggrandizes power. Smaller countries fight neighbors with weaponry and trade laws. Granted, nations are gradually losing ground to corporations that defy geographical boundaries, but this only reduces local control over the environment and workplace laws. The decline of national power does nothing to slow the trend toward ever more production and consumption.

Perhaps we can dismiss the ethic of productivity as touted by corporations and nation-states. But can we feel morally justified in the pursuit of leisure? What of the spiritual and psychological motives for work?

Spiritually, we are called to help those in need. But this doesn’t necessarily imply long or difficult labor. Certainly, those with abundant energy and resources do well using their bounty for good works. But we who are more limited can feel fine doing less. Why not pick up a little litter while walking the dogs, and call it a day? Smiling at a friend, or even an enemy, offers a bit of support without burning up reserves. Helping out can be done on a small scale. I doubt there are divine forces condemning those who spend more time relaxing, and less time striving. After all, Jesus asked us to “consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin…” (Luke 12:27).

Psychologically, work helps because it gives meaning. The trick, then, is to find meaning with less work. This can be a challenge when we’ve been conditioned to measure the value of employment in terms of hours expended, dollars earned, or projects completed. But what if part of the value of a job comes from the freedom one enjoys by not spending all day working? There’s a hint of this in the way people plan for retirement. Why not combine work and retirement rather than doing first one and then the other? A society that builds labor-saving appliances would normally be expected to encourage leisure rather than labor. Maybe we can find more meaning with less effort.

No doubt these sound like shallow justifications for my lifestyle, now that I’ve given up on striving. But although I’m riffing on this topic out of personal necessity, I do think we have been seduced by a work ethic that might once have made sense but now makes us miserable. After all, the world doesn’t need more product; our ecosystem is screaming for relief. Unemployment would end if each employee worked a third fewer hours. People might feel joyous if they could spend more time with friends and family and less time toiling.

I’m not suggesting laziness, just studied leisure. I wouldn’t advocate hours in front of a television set, but why not spend some afternoons at the local park? How about daily meditations under a tree or weekly reading groups at the library? If there are any imperatives in life, one must be to enjoy the beauty of this miraculous cosmos. We can’t do that if we spend the bulk of our time working.


Addendum: Obviously, for some people economic necessity forces excessive labor. This is a social problem that needs to be solved at a higher level through better wages, etc. But it is also true that some of what seems like necessity is actually excess. Do people truly need all the goods and services they work to afford? Could we do without as many phones, cars, clothes, and gadgets? Could we survive in homes kept a little colder in the winter and hotter in the summer? Could we get by on less? I suspect most of us could.


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Proud to Fail

A comment left by Elaina, the author of the PTSD Is Normal blog, started me thinking about the meaning of failure.

Those of us with histories of difficult upbringings and unstable adult lives often find that success eludes us. We fail to see projects through, or we choose directions that demand skills we lack, or we trust people who undermine our progress, or we collapse emotionally when facing intensified stress, or we turn away from opportunities out of fear. Achievement, at least as it is usually defined, gets impeded by our poor coping skills and high reactivity.

And yet, a common gambit to compensate for low self-esteem is to become an overachiever. I started out like that. You don’t go to major universities, earn stellar grades, get advanced degrees, and train as a sub-specialty surgeon unless you feel pretty driven to succeed. My attainments in younger years helped me feel better about myself, but they never penetrated to the inner core of my personality that was corrupted by the virus of self-hatred. I looked good on paper and never hesitated to let people know about my high-status profession, but it was all in service of counteracting deep feelings of worthlessness.

When neck disease made my overloaded operating schedule too demanding to continue, I rather precipitously abandoned my career. This rash decision came during a manic episode back before I knew myself capable of losing control in that way. So I didn’t recognize the warning signs. Rather than working patiently to solve the mismatch between my workload and spinal vulnerability (for instance by reducing to half-time), I just gave up on a career that had required ten years of medical training beyond college and graduate school. That decision led to many negative consequences, some of which continue to plague me.

In many ways, the recent acupuncture fiasco showed history repeating itself. I chose a career path that was obviously going to be very difficult for me. I listened to advice rather than my own heart. I trusted people who proved untrustworthy. My physical health deteriorated under stress. And I even made the decision to abandon the project while in a fit of mania (though now that the dust has settled I have no doubt about the correctness of that choice).

On the one hand, I could mine the acupuncture saga for tips on how to choose my goals more wisely. Or I could reassure my ego by seeing that in some ways the project was successful despite its failure in the business sense. For instance, many of my patients felt dramatically better after I’d treated them. And educating myself and setting up a practice taught me a great deal about healing, Chinese medicine, and Eastern philosophy, not to mention business realities and my own temperament.

But the most valuable outcome was my realizing that external circumstances are more or less irrelevant to internal progress. I do not need to prove my worth to the world at large; I only need to find value in myself. The highest goal in life, as I now see it, is to learn to feel satisfied and enriched by living no matter what happens. Failure, illness, pain, and grief are just as valuable to a soul as their opposites. A diet of only disappointment would certainly get tiresome, but the Self could be sustained by it if properly schooled. If it teaches us these attitudes, failure proves itself as valuable as success, and possibly more so.

The Buddha saw this truth long ago in speaking of the eight worldly winds: Praise/Blame, Gain/Loss, Fame/Shame, and Happiness/Despair. He saw that a person can rise beyond these dialectics and find peace of mind no matter the vagaries of Fate’s gales.

The edifying value of failure is perhaps a needed lesson in today’s success-obsessed world. Certainly, I feel much happier knowing that my life does not need validation from conventional sources. It can be experienced as meaningful even when it looks unfortunate from the outside. Knowing this, and seeing how my career catastrophes have taught me an invaluable lesson, I feel proud to have failed.

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