Words Do Matter
“Once, an elderly general practitioner consulted me because of his severe depression. He could not overcome the loss of his wife who had died two years before and whom he had loved above all else. Now, how could I help him? What should I tell him? Well, I refrained from telling him anything but instead confronted him with the question, “What would have happened, Doctor, if you had died first, and your wife would have had to survive you?” “Oh,” he said, “for her this would have been terrible; how she would have suffered!” Whereupon I replied, “You see, Doctor, such a suffering has been spared her, and it was you who have spared her this suffering – to be sure, at the price that now you have to survive and mourn her.” He said no word but shook my hand and calmly left my office. In some way, suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning, such as the meaning of a sacrifice. ” – Viktor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning
A friend shared this passage with me when things were at there lowest, when I was in the psychiatric hospital. In my few days there, these were the most important, helpful words I heard. My friend helped me see my suffering had meaning, that I needed to make it through for my son. She helped me see what I couldn’t. She gave me the perfect words.
Giving words of comfort to a depressed/suicidal person is not an easy task. Like trying to impart wisdom to a teenager you are bound to be met with an angry “Nobody get’s me.” or a “Why can’t the people in my life talk to me like the characters on My So Called Life or Samantha’s dad in Sixteen Candles?”
So to hear the perfect words at a desperate moment, that is a gift like no other. Words aren’t everything but they are a very important thing, especially when those words give you another day.
I watch this clip several times a year. It’s what people loved most about Johnny Carson, having fun without being mean, treating his guest with respect while still adding some silly. If Johnny Carson were on your improv team, he would be the person everyone wanted to be in scenes with. He would add the details and specificity while still making his partner look good.
I performed on Friday night. Improv often gives me an energy boost, a feeling I imagine other people get from exercising, or heroin, or some other behavior I find too risky to engage in.
Being on stage with a group of people, making something up in the moment, while the audience reacts, I would pay for that high anytime. Well, I guess I have, with places like The Second City and The Annoyance being my dealers.
Friday’s show though, felt how I feel currently, not horrible but not good and no sustaining energy. I was bummed when the show ended because I was really hoping the boost would be there. I of course left stage analyzing everything that happened but in the end that helps little.
I’ll just sit here having the shakes, waiting for my next show, and watching comedy I love from others to hold me over.
Feel free to share any clips that give you giggles.
I had my last treatment two weeks ago. I feel like shit right now.
It doesn’t feel like the scary stuff but it is not rainbow, sunshiny goodness or even regular run of the mill-ness.
I go for a meds check tomorrow and, like a washed up 80s sitcom star going on Celebrity Apprentice in hopes of revitalizing their career,
I have a lot riding on this.
I am feeling positive. I feel that the yuck can quickly get better. And yet there’s just this little “oh fuck are we going here again?”
I have this beautiful blue pom pom scarf in my car. Whenever people see it they just love it. It was made for me by a brilliant med student, a brilliant depressed med student who was in my outpatient mood disorder program from last year.
if you put a bunch of people with OCD and anxiety disorder at a table for 3 hours a day they are going to need to do something with their hands so consequently I got a scarf, a beaded bracelet, some other really nice mementos from my depressive people’s day camp.
I don’t know what the point of all this is except to say “Could this journey be any weirder?
I have no idea how my brain is doing right now or what is going to help and I have a scarf from a very nice med student who brought her very observant Muslim parents to an improv show where I did a bunch of filthy scenes on stage, unintentionally offending them, while both myself and her were in the midst of a deep depression and I can’t even remember her name or have any idea how she is doing.
So, you know, that’s that.
I never realized how many things I could possibly kill myself with until l spent time in a mental hospital.
When you’re living in a room that is designed to keep you safe, you realize the danger/opportunity that lies in objects you never knew had that power.
For as long as I can remember I have always gone to the bathroom, several times a day in fact, and even at my lowest, most depressed, suicidal times, I never looked at the toilet paper dispenser as a possible weapon. My husband will attest to the fact that I am more likely completely unaware that you are supposed to put a new toilet paper roll on any sort of dispenser at all as I tend to avoid this labor intensive task at all costs.
A few nights in the bed and breakfast for the mentally unstable though, would cause months of me wondering what other everyday objects could I use to end my life and how the heck would you actually commit suicide with a toilet paper holder. When things were at there worst, suicidal thoughts were constant and everyday situations and objects became viewed as possibly dangerous. It was like having a baby who has just started walking and all of the sudden your seemingly safe house looks like a toddler death trap.
Life no longer feels this way and for that I couldn’t be more thankful.
I am thankful for a healthy brain and the support and modern science that made this possible.
I am thankful for friends, family, and an art form that all encourage me to express myself.
I am thankful for tacos, classic sitcom reruns, and the wonder that is Costco.
Happy Thankful Day.
Hey body and brain, I am totally open to feeling good. I am here to accept what you have to offer. I will even read The Secret or whatever is the new Secret and follow it like an overweight bride-to-be pays attention to her points during her first week of Weight Watchers.
I had my last treatment Thursday. Got shocked and hoping i will get a much needed boost soon. Come on body, don’t make me try that five hour energy shit. I am not bluffing. I will drive to my closest gas station and chug it like a fraternity pledge doing shots of Everclear.
I am open to anything. Tell me what to do Iyanla Vanzant. I am all yours.
I am okay, really. Just low and tired and ready to be something different.
Allright, self, let’s do this.
