Not About Mindfulness...Or Is It?

My post today was originally going to be a vehicle for me to assert my opinion that mindfulness-based approaches to mental health therapy are superior to other approaches. I was also going to discuss practicing mindfulness in day to day life, lauding its efficacy as a tool of personal development. I was going to say those things, and say them proudly. I still want to, actually, because I believe them to be true. But I'm not going to, because I had one of those head-smacking "OY" moments you have when you realize you've made a rookie mistake.

What was the mistake?

It's simple: I was mistaking my subjective, personal beliefs for objective, generalizable truth. I was projecting my experiences onto you, Dear Reader, and I was going to rubber-stamp it. My bad. I'm glad I didn't go through with it. 

What I'm left with, then, is a mixed-bag perspective, which I will now scribble out in the following paragraphs.

I'm not going to beat myself up for wanting to share my opinion with an authoritative voice. For one, this is "my" blog, you know, and I'm allowed to do that if I want to (hehe). For another, it's perfectly normal to be biased in favor of one's own experiences, perspectives, and beliefs. (Incidentally, as we proceed through life, we tend to embrace information that reinforces our beliefs, and ignore/reject information that contradicts our beliefs -- a phenomenon also known as "confirmation bias.") 

Anyway, our abilities to both communicate our subjective experiences to others, and to consider the subjective experiences of others, are pretty amazing and essential aspects of what it means to be alive. So while the word subjective sometimes carries negative connotations, it really isn't negative at all -- not in essence, anyway. 

To be sure, subjectivity can become quite negative if it isn't acknowledged and accounted for. That is, if one takes one's own perspective to be Absolute Truth, and attempts to impose it on others as such, then the potential for doing harm is very great indeed. Because let's face it: each of us is unique, such that no single perspective could ever hope to resonate with, or be of relevance or use to, ALL of us -- and certainly not in the same way, and certainly not as intended by the original perspective-bearer. 

Consider the religions of the world, for example. Within any given religion, there is a broad range of approaches, and even beliefs, among adherents and clergy: some emphasize ABC, while others emphasize XYZ, while others maybe emphasize Q and P, and a little bit of M. Ya dig what I'm getting at here? 

I'm reminded now of why I loved -- still love -- my grad school training, which culminated in a Master of Social Work (MSW) degree: in it, I was reminded to be aware and respectful of the intrinsic power I hold as a practitioner. To that end, I was reminded to never lose sight of two very important facts: 1) Each of us has the right to self-determination. That is, each of us has the right to do whatever we see fit for ourselves. 2) Each of us is the expert of our own lives. 

Those are incredibly valuable -- and crucial -- things for me to remember as I work on this blog. 

The ideas I share in this space will necessarily be of a subjective nature, you know? They're my ideas -- or, at the very least, they're other people's ideas that I've interpreted through my own life experiences. Do I think they're valuable? You bet I do. Do I think they can help people? Yes indeed. But I strive to remind myself, too, that my ideas won't resonate with everyone, and that, indeed, they aren't even applicable to everyone. 

There's a real freedom, and a real peace, in that. 

Thanks for reading. 

Frustration

Ask someone with a chronic mental illness what it's like to live with it, and you'll probably hear -- among other responses -- that it's frustrating.

Many words are rightfully dedicated to the exploration of symptoms of various mental health problems, and coping strategies for the successful management thereof. After all, lots of people with mental illnesses need help learning about them. What is often overlooked in that sort of work, though, is the essential fact that it can be powerfully frustrating to live with a two-steps-forward, two-steps-back illness -- one that feels okay on some days and crippling on others. In that regard, as I recently pointed out, living with a chronic mental illness is no different than living with any other chronic illness, such as asthma, diabetes, or high blood pressure.

I digress -- let's stick with the frustration that can be felt by a person living with chronic mental illness(es).

A person struggling with their mental health can make great strides on one day, and feel as though they've uncovered the key to their ongoing wellness. Illumination can occur by way of almost anything: a thought; a sight; a sound; an interaction; a line or passage of text; a therapy session; a movie; a piece of art; an action.

And that same person can wake up the next day and discover that same key, which held so much meaning and importance yesterday, doesn't resonate today; moreover, they might discover, to their dismay, that they feel just as pained and confused and lost as ever.

How incredibly frustrating. It's easy, perhaps, to see how one could lose hope in view of such ruthless eradications of progress. We human animals are programmed to respond to, and learn from, stimuli, after all. We need positive reinforcement to see things through. In general, it's very difficult for us to favor long-term over short-term thinking. Think about it: it's why countless New Year's resolutions never come to pass; it's why so many people struggle with maintaining a nutritious diet; it's why impulse shopping is a problem for many people. We want positive feedback and results, and we want them right now.

So it goes with managing a mental illness. It's an ongoing process by nature, but we want to feel better, permanently, right now. And who can blame someone for wanting that, and for feeling that way? Not me. Mental illness can be torture.

And so, as with many things in life, mental illness isn't fair: those with the most immediate and pressing needs for comfort and peace are asked to be especially strong, patient, and diligent. 

It isn't fair, and it isn't kind, but it is a fact. 

A few more thoughts before I wrap up this post.

The various religions and mythologies of humankind have addressed these aspects of human suffering, which is important to remember, as they offer a wellspring of wisdom, guidance, and comfort. I'm going to pluck three examples off the top of my head from this vast repository -- of which most content I am, admittedly, ignorant. At any rate, the examples are 1) Shamans; 2) The Beatitudes (well, one in particular); and 3) an old Japanese proverb.

Please note it is not my intention to endorse or otherwise privilege any religion or belief system by selecting and discussing these examples.

1. You may know that the word "Shaman" is generally synonymous with "healer." What's interesting to me, though, is that a necessary precondition of being a shaman is to have experienced severe personal crisis. A shaman, then, is one who has been deeply wounded -- who has experienced, and possibly continues to experience, deep suffering. But the way through the crisis has endowed the shaman with skills of healing, which they then share with others.

2. The Beatitudes, according to Christian beliefs, were delivered by Jesus as a series of blessings and proclamations in his Sermon on the Mount. The one that comes to my mind is, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." What that means to me in view of this discussion of mental illness is this: the struggle can feel painful and hopeless and frustrating -- but it is worth it. Why? Because if you keep struggling, you will learn, on a level of extraordinary depth, what it means to suffer, to heal, to live -- and to serve yourself and others in your own particular way. 

3. If all that feels a little out of reach and esoteric, consider the third example I referred to -- the Japanese proverb. It is, simply, this: "Fall seven times, stand up eight."