Energy Theft: The Toxic forms of Shame and Guilt

[Democracy is coming]

From the homicidal bitchin’

That goes down in every kitchen

To determine who will serve and who will eat.

(Leonard Cohen, “Democracy”)

Sarah, 27, who is about to finish graduate school with a PhD in engineering, hates to call her mother…and does so, dutifully, and with dread, every week. Saturday mornings come with a call that her father always picks up. “Hi Dad, how are you?” She’s not close with her father, who has never seemed that interested in her. “Well,” he says, “Retirement is better than not. Doing some golf. Things are going ok,” this being a version of what he always says before, “Oh, here’s your mother. Be well.”

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The Stalling of Grief: What we are saying when we say, “I can’t believe!”

I think that virtually everyone I’ve worked with (myself included) at some point (or perhaps chronically) finds themselves saying, “I can’t believe they did that!” It could be specific: “I can’t believe my mother criticizes me about my partner!” Or general: “I can’t believe that people drive like such idiots!” Or very broad indeed: “I can’t believe that God allows suffering to happen!”

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The Cultivation of Awe (Pt. 1)

I’ve gotten to thinking about the experience of awe, especially in how it figures into the project of dismantling depression and anxiety. So the question for this essay boils down to: how does awe affect mood?
Ok. If we start with a brief definition from Websters, we get:

“Awe: an emotion variously combining dread, veneration, and wonder that is inspired by authority or by the sacred or sublime.”

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Depression and the Burden of Holiday Preciousness

My family had hamburgers for Thanksgiving. In my case, as a vegetarian, I had a veggie burger. We had decided last year that the efforts of turkeypotatoesrollssomethingforthevegetairiancranberrysausecornbreadetc was just too much, given that none of the family likes to stuff themselves, and the work takes days and is then gone in an hour. For Christmas, we were planning to have pizzas for Christmas, but my mother buckled under the pressure. Change comes in measures.

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10 Tips for a Depression-Free Election

This has been the most rancid election cycle I’ve ever experienced, and although I generally have a good working filtration system for mental toxins, this year has hit me a bit like a sudden surge of sewage into the treatment plant. I’ve had to be more proactive in my “detox systems” to allow me to not just crawl in a hole and pull the dirt over me, nor become so overwhelmed by the toxic sludge that I can’t function, either way risking depression.

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In and Out of the Void: Pixar’s “Inside Out” as a Map of Depression

[Movie totally spoiled herein:  don’t read if you have not yet seen it!]

Pixar’s “Inside Out” is so remarkable to my therapist’s eye because it really got the human mind right, particularly in presenting a depiction and map of how depression happens, and what is depression’s cure. It was also quite moving to me personally, as someone with a long (and thankfully now resolved) history with depression, that the film presented it with such compassion and wisdom, and especially with such a credible and real understanding that there is indeed a way out.

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What I’ve Learned from Depression (so far)

Here is the link to this article at the Huffington Post.

“What I’ve Learned from Depression (so far)”

In it, I pose a sequence of 2 non-negotiable principles, and 10 unavoidable realities of depression and its cure.  I’m shooting here for a distilled and (relatively for me) pithy condensation of the necessary orientations and practices to cure depression. It’s all drawn from my years of working (personally, and with patients) with depression, and not primarily from theory.  In other words, its more observational and descriptive, rather than theoretical. I hope you find it useful.

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Depression and Faith

I surely would have been dead from depression years ago if I hadn’t had, and eventually cultivated, a basic faith in life. Which is a bit odd, since I grew up without any religious training or interest, to the degree that my mother called us “happy heathens.”  Even my decades of Buddhist training and study as an adult have been diligently a-religious, mostly technical, practical and pragmatic. So I’ve wondered how it is that I have such a dogged faith in life, when I’ve also had such a longstanding history of depression stretching back to my childhood.

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Depression and the Dilemma Of Stories

Today in San Francisco was one of those days that make the Minnesota tourists contemplate emigration. Blue sky, temperate weather, a solicitous sun, and even my typically shivering and jaded fellow citizens were smiling and starting to rethink humanity. I had ridden my bicycle to an appointment, and then with a gap in my schedule, thought I’d take advantage of the day to ride down to Crissy Field, a long public beach just inside San Francisco Bay, overlooked by the Golden Gate Bridge. The place is iconic, majestic. It has boats, people strolling with their dogs, mothers playing with children. And joggers.

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Depression and the Practice of Savoring

Richard, a diligent type-A tech guy, who defended against his depression with unending work, sat on my couch and listed what he had accomplished this last week. After that, with barely a pause, he launched into his tasks for, and worries about, the upcoming week. Given his pace, when I asked him which of the completed tasks brought him the most pleasure, it was as if, as the passenger in his car, I’d suddenly yanked the handbrake.

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