It's amazing what a short walk can do for your mood

I left the office for my lunch break in one place (stressed, ruminative, negative), and returned, having taken a half-hour or so walk, in basically the opposite state (relaxed, hopeful, grounded).

Put another way, my mind-state, when I first left the office, was like a tight knot of string. During my walk, the knot loosened bit by bit, until eventually, almost without my realizing it, there was no longer a knot at all -- only string, ready and able to take whatever form came next.

Rumination and Depression

One of the common features of depression is ruminative thought. "Rumination" is defined by the Merriam-Webster dictionary as follows:

1. to go over in the mind repeatedly and often casually or slowly
2. to chew repeatedly for an extended period

The problematic fixture of rumination, when featured in depression, is its compulsive nature. Compulsive behaviors (thinking included) are characterized by obsession, repetition, automation, and a lack of choice on the part of the the individual.

Unfortunately, the thoughts, images, memories, and ideas upon which a person ruminates are usually unpleasant.

It can be easy for an outsider to consider these points and say, "Ok, just stop ruminating on that stuff." If only it were so easy. Chances are good that the person suffering from depression has tried that -- "just stopping" -- to no avail. The fact is, one usually cannot simply "stop" a compulsive behavior like rumination; rather, one (usually) must learn a new, more functional (and satisfying) behavior to replace its compulsive cousin.

I think the human mind is a diligent problem-solver. By extension, then, rumination, to me, is a process (not necessarily consciously understood) by which the mind is seeking to solve a problem. Rumination acts like quicksand, though, in that a person's thoughts get pulled into, and stuck upon, the object of rumination -- and this makes it difficult or impossible to clearly identify and solve the underlying issue. This isn't pleasant, it is usually unwelcome, and it can be highly frustrating; but it is, nevertheless, a signal from the mind that a problem exists and requires attention.

I think the intention of problem-solving in and of itself is awesome; and I think, furthermore, such intention is to be partnered with in seeking to proceed out of one's depression. In other words, embrace it, pat it on the back, and get crackin'!

The first step is to put on your Sherlock Holmes deerstalker hat and get curious about the deeper problem your rumination is seeking to solve.

(This is why I'm a big believer in therapy, incidentally. This stuff can be very difficult to recognize and describe on one's own. An impartial, external party, then, can be of incredible value to a person.)

It's impossible for me to speak in anything but general terms at this point, because everyone's problems are different. Often, however, people find that their rumination is trying to solve the following issues (which are also general terms): guilt, shame, anger, and/or frustration. People also find, sometimes, their rumination is a defense mechanism against feelings of worry, doubt, fear, powerlessness, and/or vulnerability.

The great thing is that this Sherlock Holmes process represents real hope for the sufferer. Once a person's underlying problem is understood, it is possible -- very possible -- to begin the process of resolving it. For example, if a person is struggling with shame and guilt, it is possible for that person to achieve self-forgiveness.

A really nice byproduct of all this, incidentally, is that people often learn so, so much about themselves when they go through it. They often come to a deeper understanding of "what makes them tick," their needs, their values, their relationships, etc. They learn skills and tools which help them manage future struggles more efficiently. They learn acceptance and compassion.

And that, as Martha Stewart puts it, is a good thing.

Boxing Jello

When I was younger and having a really hard time, I would try to change the way I felt through sheer, willful force. I would perform mental gymnastics that would make a Russian Olympian jealous in my futile attempts at retooling my savage emotional life. Initially, I didn't realize my efforts were just that -- futile. And now that I've learned the lesson, I've come to think of that process as being akin to punching a giant cube of jello: it might yield at first, but it just coagulates around your fist and reforms after you pull back; and all you, the puncher-in-earnest, are left with is your frustration: the jello remains.

The first step for me was to realize that hey, maybe I should just let myself feel however I happen to feel at any given moment. That, in turn, opened the door to the important realization that negative feelings, even powerful ones such as anger, are not intrinsically bad. I had affixed a lot of meaning to anger in particular; I believed -- very strongly -- it was just that: bad. When you believe something to be bad, you generally try to avoid it; and I had practiced a lifetime of avoiding anger and other negative feelings -- to deleterious effects, as it turned out.

The problem with attempts to outright reject, change, or avoid thoughts and feelings is that it doesn't really work. The harder you push, the harder they push back; your efforts just amplify their force. Avoidance seems to do the trick, because you sort of don't have to experience the feeling for awhile. But instead of going away, the feeling gathers strength, becomes toxic, and forces its way out, one way or the other -- maybe as explosive, uncontrolled rage, or passive-aggressiveness, or drug abuse, or overeating, or under eating, or self-harm, etc.

And that's the tragic thing, folks: when you try to avoid, reject, or otherwise forcefully control your feelings, they gather strength and seize control of you.

So what's a person to do? To be sure, it's an uphill battle, for a couple reasons. The first is that the behavior pattern I described above is complicated, and can be difficult to change; it can take time, effort, and patience. The other reason is that our society reinforces and encourages those behaviors. For example, men are supposed to square their jaw and "lock it up." Traditionally, in many cultures, men aren't supposed to talk about their feelings. They're supposed to be dominant, stoic. And if they fly into the occasional rage, punch a wall, scream at their partner, get into a fight, etc., well, then, boys will be boys, right? Drink a six pack on a Tuesday, and all is right with the world. Women, on the other hand, are supposed to be emotional. As a result of their "emotional dispositions," tradition holds, women are supposed to be irrational, manipulative, passive-aggressive, and have hidden agendas. As long as they're deferential, obsessed with their appearance, modest, into gossip, and really interested in shopping, what's the problem?

My view is that there's a big problem there. These roles, these "supposed to's," destroy people. These roles and rules render behaviors taboo which might otherwise promote clarity, calm, and health. God forbid, right? Not everyone fits into those tidy little buckets. I'd venture to say that, given the problems those roles create, no one actually fits into those tidy little buckets.

Our thoughts and feelings are part of us, but they are not our entire person, any more than our hands, feet, eyes, or nose are our entire person. When we get a head cold, our body lets us know what's happening; we get achy, we get a sore throat, we get tired. These "symptoms" are messages from our body, saying, "Hey! I need you to rest, drink lots of water, and dial it back a notch or two!" Our thoughts and feelings are messengers, too, and they operate in a similar manner. Instead of seeking to change or reject them, it's helpful, in my experience, to get curious about them: "Hey, I'm really sad, and I don't know why. What's that sadness trying to 'tell' me?"

That's it: acceptance, curiosity, and compassion. Have a good day, folks!

A Certain "F You" Sensibility

(This post contains some adult language.)

I can't remember if I've ever mentioned it here, but I studied theater in college with an emphasis in acting. (In fact, I went on to pursue a career in theater for a few years after I graduated, but that's a story for another time.)

It was really difficult.

Before you start laughing ("Haha -- I studied engineering; you have no idea what "difficult" is), know that an intensive study of acting basically equates to human behavior boot camp. Learning how to "live truthfully within imaginary circumstances" (Sanford Mesiner's definition of acting), i.e., live onstage -- in the moment, natural, free, listening, focusing, responding, speaking, etc. -- while other people are watching you, is a very difficult task. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you it entails learning how to be a person all over again, from the most basic tasks, such as walking, on up.

As you might imagine, learning how to act is a process unique to each person. We each have our own learned restrictions, both conscious and subconscious, which stand in the way of the kind of truthful living required of a person when they're acting. Many of those restrictions are there for good reason in day-to-day life. But if you're going to be an actor, you have to be willing to face them, break them down, and proceed in spite of them.

That's a tall order, believe me. Letting go of defense mechanisms is really scary. After all, they're called defense mechanisms for a reason: they're in place to ostensibly protect us from vulnerability and danger.

The revelatory part, though, is that this frightening process of constantly letting go of your defenses eventually teaches you that you are far stronger than you had ever previously imagined. That's a very cool thing to realize. And it's empowering, furthermore, because you begin to realize that, hey, maybe I don't need to carry all these defenses around with me; maybe I can be more selective with them.

Maybe, by letting go, I'm actually opening the door to being in greater control of myself. 

That's awesome. That right there is real self-awareness, mindfulness, and control.

The path to letting go is not smooth and straight. It's a bumpy road, with lots of switchbacks and intersections. You've got to buckle up and be willing to stick with it, and have patience. It's a tall order.

Many of my acting classes were very Socratic in the sense that they involved a lot of dialogue between the students and the professor. In one class in particular, the dialogue largely concerned identifying defense mechanisms and the do-able process of moving beyond them. I remember my professor saying to us, "It takes a certain 'fuck you' attitude. You're saying 'fuck you' to your fears: your fear of what will happen if you let go; and your fear of others' judgment."

It was a powerful statement. Little did I know at the time, it contained a wisdom which transcends acting and applies to many of our struggles in life. For example, many people have a hard time being assertive. And when they decide to give assertiveness a shot, they feel anxious and out of control -- as if they're being aggressive, in fact. The truth of the matter, though, is that their emotional barometer isn't on point: it's fogged up by their fear. So what feels like aggression is simply fear trying to maintain its grip, and keep the person from doing something new.

If there's an aspect of your life you want to change, or if there's something you want to let go, or if you want to behave differently in some regard, take heed. Know that the restriction which is keeping you from doing what you actually want to do is nothing more than fear. Most of the time, the fear is simply a byproduct of old hurts, and is not applicable to your present circumstances. Tell the fear, "Fuck you, you can't keep me from being the person I want to be," and leap into action.

It'll be scary, but it'll be worth it. And with practice, you'll find that it gets easier, and that your courageousness takes flight.