WillSpirit

Where Will meets Spirit
∞ A Blog Devoted to Balance, Peace, and Clarity ∞

A formerly depressed physician tells stories of trauma, grief and recovery, and offers suggestions for emerging from darkness, living with mood swings, and awakening to life.








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    • 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.




The Healing Toolbox

A comment on my essay Truer than Truth, left by the author of Just Some Stuff About Life As I See It, gave me the idea for today’s post and tip for clarity. JSS spotted undeniable pitfalls in visualizing a better childhood than the one actually lived. If one were to only deal with a traumatic upbringing by imagining a better past, one would simply be in deep denial. There is little recovery to be gained by unexamined denial (though it is sometimes necessary for survival). Also, if I psychically embraced only my fictional family and not my real one, I would be rejecting the wisdom and empathy that (eventually) arose as a result of my experiences.

The trick of imagining a better past only works in the context of a large collection of practices for emotional and spiritual growth. Sometimes I find it more effective to meditate, or just contemplate, about the ways hardship shapes me. Some of my most difficult recent losses have led to unexpected gains in personal maturity and spiritual understanding, and when I feel really put upon it helps to list the positive aspects of events that sometimes seem purely negative. It can be more challenging, but just as valuable, to do the same thing with childhood trauma. I could remind myself, for instance, that going into a healing field (acupuncture) with an eye toward helping those in emotional distress is well-served by my first-person understanding of child abuse. No doubt many who come to me for help (assuming some do) will have endured abusive upbringings.

But the need for flexibility and variety in recovery goes further. If one is dedicated to living well (and this is true for both those with and without psychiatric histories), one needs to attend to the body with proper nutrition, exercise, sleep, hygiene, and health care. One needs to nurture the soul with sojourns in nature, meditation, prayer, and deep acceptance. One needs to develop the mind with readings about recovery, childhood, mental health, and many other topics relevant to growth. And finally, one needs to pleasure the heart with loving relationships, play, creativity, and beauty. There are countless ways to approach each of these categories. For instance, prayer can be spoken in church, it can be offered silently while walking or in bed, it can be sung, or it can be a simple wordless opening to the loving and creative forces of the universe. Although I am often (not always) rather atheistic in my philosophy, I still pray. Perhaps all that hears me is my unconscious mind, but isn’t it valuable to humble oneself before the deeper parts of one’s being? Isn’t this true whether or not there is an actual, listening God? Prayer is a category of tool that comes in many shapes, and can be used in many ways, by anyone.

A skilled craftsperson knows how to select the proper tools for a job, and flexibly shifts among them as he or she works. A long time ago, when I still practiced as a surgeon, I was careful to choose the appropriate instrument for each step in every procedure. As a simple, basic example, I wouldn’t use a scalpel if scissors made more sense. We are all the surgeons of our own personalities. Although events shape us, especially in childhood, we can stitch our experiences into our being in whatever way works best. With a good selection of tools for growth we can pursue healing activities and thoughts, and when we get struck by events outside our control, we can optimize interpretations and responses. If one is dedicated to personal and spiritual development, one is well-advised to put together a large toolbox of tricks to achieve balance, and to use them with creativity and flare.

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New Direction

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You may have noticed my posts have been slow in coming lately. The good news is I’ve decided to pursue a new career direction: using acupuncture for mental health issues. Acupuncture has been a mainstay of my recovery. By itself it would not have been enough, but as a regular refuge where I can recharge and rebalance it has been invaluable. Since licensed physicians can train to practice the technique in a relatively short time, it is a great way for me to get back to clinical work without the inconceivable stress and difficulty of finding and completing a residency in a more traditional discipline. I’m tremendously excited. It will be less visible work than writing, but it will provide far more security. And being a doctor again means more to me than I’ve been willing to admit.

The bad news is I will have less time for writing. I will try to keep posting, but the essays will be less frequent. They may also be shorter, but that may turn out to be an improvement. I tend to underrate the value of brevity.

For today, I’m posting a piece I wrote for Hopeworks Community. Larry Drain is a prolific writer and activist in the mental health field, and he invited guest posts for his blog. Here’s mine:

This is my story of recovery from severe depression, and my message is one of hope. On the one hand, I doubt many people have experienced longer lasting or more severe depression than me (though a multitude have it just as bad). On the other, I have found my way to a place of contentment and steadiness that I never dreamt possible.

Although depression has dogged me for most of my adult life, my mood reached new lows after I lost my surgical career to severe arthritis in my neck. My spirits were especially crushed because the loss of occupation brought up lingering self-doubts left over from a highly traumatic childhood.

In recovering, I tried every type of therapy and group program that promised to assist me with my problems. These methods helped me improve my thought patterns, accept the present moment, and find spiritual peace. To my delight and surprise, I am often happy. Although I still get depressed from time to time, my spiritual centering and acceptance work have taught me that grief and sadness are as important and rich as happiness; I would not want to miss the textured sense of connection with tragedy. Whether happy or sad, I am at peace with my mind and my history.

Medications played a big role at first, but they ultimately turned on me. Under the direction of a psychiatrist whose only tools were drugs and endless exploration of my childhood, I spent five years heavily sedated and unable to function productively. After horrible side effects threatened to lower my self esteem even more, I switched to another care system and have spent recent years reducing an oppressive cocktail of medications. Perhaps I needed to escape into a medicated haze for several years, but when the drugs were reduced my grief awaited me, and I still had to deal with feelings about my losses. I learned there is no way to sidestep mourning.

During the past decade I’ve tried many times to build a new career. False starts and rejections added to my burden, until I gave in and accepted permanent retirement from defined employment. Then, after I finally felt at peace with not working, I discovered a career direction that makes sense. The operative concept is acceptance. Once I quit fighting my fear of being seen as unproductive, and once I learned to keep busy and avoid boredom, my mind opened to a new possibility. I had to accept what I feared before moving past it.

I have learned that there is no single answer to depression or other mental health issues. Medications may help, but they do not magically take away the problem. Acceptance is vital, but by itself is insufficient. One needs to learn to think without fostering depression, but that alone won’t end the sadness. Exercise, meditation, group work, writing, good nutrition, and regular sleep all need to be considered. With a comprehensive approach, recovery is possible.

It takes effort and time. If you are suffering from depression, you will need to both work hard and remain patient. You may also need to learn to live with some low feelings. But knowing how much I’ve improved despite years of despair, I suspect that no matter how depressed you may feel, you can find peace.

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The Stubborn Ego

StubbornAnimal

The hardest thing, sometimes, is admitting error. That it should be such a challenge is a bit mystifying. Why can’t we look truth in the face, see the mistakes in our previous thinking or behavior, and tell the world we had it wrong?

Honor is an ego prize. Honesty is of the heart. In this world, ego values dominate. So we insist on the accuracy of our opinions, and on the rightness of our actions. A great deal of marital discord would evaporate if spouses learned to admit error. Since political parties, nations, and religions are just as willful as individuals, the world is rife with gridlock in congress, imperialist invasions, and wars between religions.

Not only is rigidity bad for society, it keeps us locked in behaviors and attitudes that promote suffering. Case in point: I spent most of my adult life fighting for my own unhappiness. Even as I began to learn ways to shuck my depression, I resisted out of psychic stubbornness.

Not that I couldn’t justify my misery. Many posts on this blog have explained the ways my childhood sucked. Divorce, maternal suicide, child abuse, paternal alcoholism, and sibling psychosis were the staples of my upbringing. In the same vein, there is little doubt that I had a run of bad luck in adulthood: severe neck problems, career loss, psychiatric hospitalizations, permanent medication side effects, and multiple failures plagued me during the past decade. Fate has given me plenty of ammunition to shoot my mood to hell.

And yet, in recent years the suspicion grew that my attitude could change. Just as there were awful things in my family home, there were delightful things outside of it. My grandparents took custody of me one month a year, and lavished me with attention. In order to keep me out of my stepmother’s hair, my father had me spend half of every summer at camp. And although it was awkward being the only kid in residence longer than two weeks, I had lots of fun. My adulthood has brought me good times as well as bad. My prolonged education fascinated me every step of the way. For a brief time, I had a rewarding career. Financial concerns, while present, are not severe. My health is pretty good, and my wife loves me. Ever since I first worked with CBT in 2006, it has been clear to me that my biggest problem was a severe tendency to focus on the negative.

As readers have learned in previous posts, my opinion of my worth was very low until a week ago. Now, I can see how my deep feelings, perseverance, kindness, and insight make me a valuable person. That my outlook reversed in such a short time is telling. I believe the recognition of my good qualities has been secretly building inside me for years. But I resisted it. Why? Because I did not want to admit error.

How would it look if unhappy Will, who always had something discouraging to talk about, suddenly started acting joyful? Wouldn’t that prove that he could have changed long ago? Wouldn’t that negate all his complaints? Perhaps.

Maybe I could have let go of my sour attitude decades back. Former lovers and friends might have remained in my life. Years of sorrow might have been avoided. But would those be reasons to keep on in the same mode? One of my favorite sayings is, “cut your losses”. Last week, it finally came time to do just that.

It is not surprising that it took a long time to recover from such a traumatic childhood. And a period of mourning after my career ended was probably unavoidable. The problem was, my grief stretched on too long.

It is time to admit longstanding awareness of my attachment to sorrow. In essence, my unhappiness hardened into a habit. Although the word is overused, I’m tempted to call my pessimism an ‘addiction’. After all, it became a repetitive behavior (of thought) that ruined my life for many years.

Like any bad habit, the best way to break free is to recognize the problem, resolve to change, and then take concrete steps to improve. Although I could see my insistence on pessimism, and had pretty good resolve to change, I resisted releasing my negativity. The fact is, I feared that if improvement appeared suddenly, it would imply that I could have ended my depression at any time. It would indicate a big mistake.

Finally, using recovery jargon, I ‘hit bottom’. The constant misery became too much, and contentment became more essential than being right.

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