Season of Change

While I need to finish off some work this evening, my need for catharsis has trumped my need for finishing the task at hand and getting a good night's sleep. Autumn is upon us, evidenced by the abundance of pumpkin everything and myriad of comments about the weather. It's the most polarizing season for me - I very much feel it is the greatest time of year while simultaneously fighting off the psychological ghosts and ghouls that accompany me this time of the year. By definition, one would call this seasonal affective disorder, but this... this is different (as most people with seasonal affective disorder would probably claim, I am well aware). I assert this is not a case of denial because I am so forthright with my emotions, and over the past couple of years, I have developed a far greater awareness as it relates to my moods and how they are connected with the feeling side of me instead of the thinking side of me. For years I have known why autumn impacts me so; the problem extends far beyond five years ago, but five autumns ago saw the catalyst that brought everything to the forefront, and each subsequent autumn has further contributed to the difficulty waiting to confront me anew each September.

Why is it that autumn impacts me so? Well, it's the season that evokes the most emotion from me by far, which is always very trying for me. It is the time of year that coincides with all of my most vivid memories. Very nearly all of my greatest emotional occurrences fall within this timeframe, both positive and negative, and when you combine that with the changing weather and very distinct imagery, it's a sensory assault only further accelerating the journey into yet another period of days turning to weeks turning to months trying to stave off negativity and subscribe to the "this year will be different" line of thinking. In an attempt to condense the explosion of emotions into a nice, succinct package to at least partially explain the background psychology of the season for me, I'll say that all of my best and worst memories call autumn its home. This starts from childhood, where the memories more center around unadulterated joy - tag in the backyard was most fun in the cooler weather, the World Series was the height of my sports excitement each year as I rooted on my Yankees, and as I got a bit older, my own baseball season commenced this time of year. Halloween was the time of year you could be anyone in the whole world, a truly wondrous proposition for a child. And while we feel sorrow as children, I believe we don't have the intellectual capacity to have comprehend the depth of sorrow in our youthful years. It's actually quite interesting to think about: joy is often associated with something that is pure and simple, whereas sadness is one of the most complex emotions we can try to describe.

Later on in life is where the complexity came along, and all the notable timestamps fall within this pesky three month time period of the year. The numbers on the calendar could be any numbers, but we're wired to notice trends, and when the trend is that these experiences all occur within a certain window, it can be difficult to try and convince the brain that the window is not to blame. It was autumn where I found out what was wrong with me had a name, the day that I could no longer run away from the fact that the way I felt wasn't going away on its own. Relationships in my life have been few and far between, but they have commenced and ceased in or very very close to autumn. The greatest joy and the most excruciating pain have occurred in these months. Having your heart become consumed by the deluge of love violently cascading without any regard to what is in its path is unlike any other feeling, as is the feeling when that tide sweeps back out to sea, taking far more back with it in the process. I have seen my identity lost and found in this season. I have had my hope renewed, my confidence shattered, my emotions boil and freeze, I've hurt so badly because of things that I've had happen, things that I've seen, and perhaps most of all because of decisions I had to make. I've had my heart broken and I have broken someone else's heart. I've fought and fought, and I've also been so exhausted that I felt like giving up. I've found some of my greatest friends in the entire world in this time of year, including my dearest friend of all. I've discovered the music that has shaped much of the more recent past of my life. These memories all come rushing back along with the cool air. They force their ways to the forefront of my awareness with the playback of a song or the sound of a child's gleeful scream. As humans, we all have to deal with these sensations, but it's each individual's ability to cope with the sensations that define how much of an impact and what sort of impact they have on us, and unfortunately, for me, I was never endowed with much of a mechanism for tackling such issues.

I think heading into this autumn I had more conviction around the belief that this year would be different. Things in my life have been going pretty well, and I am happier than I have been in years, all things considered. Now, whether it be coincidence or if there's truly something to this "season of change", it of course has to happen that life would just throw some curveballs out there just to get me thinking. I think I have maneuvered that path okay so far, but that seed of doubt has been planted, the cool weather has rolled back in, and I have felt the anxiety rising within me, particularly having spent a week out of town from work in a place that houses some of the most vivid memories of mine (as fate would have it, the route from the hotel I was staying at to the office took me down a road that was the same route taken to go to a Halloween bonfire back on someone's farmland back in 2008). In contemplating this all, though, and thinking about my desire to try and make this autumn a great one to "break the cycle", it occurred to me that maybe that wasn't the best course of action, and perhaps a futile one, in all actuality. The more I thought, and the more I listened to some music, the more I felt that I had it all wrong. So often I think we have such black and white approaches to dealing with sorrow: either run from it or embrace it as our identity. Now, maybe what I was proposing was not to run from it, more to try and shove it aside and replace it with something else. Other times we wallow in our gloom because it identifies us. What I thought about, though, is to try and do neither of those things, to just try to see and understand the beauty in sorrow. I don't know that there is ever any "conquering" it, but some form of coexistence where it makes you appreciate and understand the role sorrow plays in the broader gamut of all human emotion is perhaps the best way to try and approach it. We don't try to appreciate that we feel sad, but we appreciate that we feel, period.

All in all, I don't know if this approach will be a beneficial one or not. It's certainly well-intentioned, and it seems to make sense to me (now), but I could just be digging myself a hole and no one would ever think to tell me as I could be just any other grave digger this spooky time of year, right? I do believe it's worth a shot, though. I cannot run from the seasons, rather than trying to run against the current, perhaps this is a way of riding with the current. Autumn is the season of change, so I may as well try something new!

Put Away Your Map

More and more of late, my emotions have been returning to a more up and down fashion. It's purely situational, as I've been working a ton of hours on a very high stress project; it's possibly got the potential to be the biggest thing I work on in my entire career, past or future. There's also the anxiety associated with moving (again). This past moving endeavor really took a lot out of me, and this forthcoming one promises to be the most draining of all since I will be owning, not renting. Not only do I have to do all the things I'd normally do, but all the things that are done for you upon moving into an apartment or a rented condo are now my responsibility, too. There's no management company to do touch up paint, patch nail holes in the walls, clean/replace carpets, and all those other chores you're not particularly looking forward to doing when you already have all your other stuff to move and take care of. That's not even the most daunting piece, either. For me, it's the psychological component that is most precarious. Previously I have always liked moving because of the prospect of a fresh start, something new and exciting. The more I have them though, the more you begin to question how many more times you want to. I love traveling, I love living in new places, I just dislike moving, and now I dislike the prospect of being anchored somewhere. My mantra that I try to stick to is "there are no good or bad decisions, only decisions". Very few things in life are permanent, and living arrangements due to home/condo ownership are no different. Nevertheless, it's still daunting.

Deep down, I am worried about screwing up. The past several times I have relocated cities started out great. I was able to really take to a new environment and make the most of it. Each time, though, it faded. There are various reasons for that, but the thing I fear is it becoming a trend. Is it a trend? Did I screw something up? Was it life, or was it just me? Another component to this was both when I moved in 2007 and again in 2010, I was moving on an upswing. That's not quite the case this time around, so there's this element of worrying that if I come in during a low, will I even have a fresh start, or will I continue to stagnate? I've had some moments of optimism in the past several weeks; I've had some fun occasions that encourage me I will be able to shake this funk, and I routinely try to convince myself that I will get back into doing some of the things I enjoy, or at least that I think I enjoy (I never know what I enjoy anymore). The apprehension always manages to creep back in, though. Ultimately I have a fear that I share with many people, and that is a fear of not finding happiness.

And that's where I need to stop myself. That is the wrong way to think, and it's hard wired into my brain right now, but I need to eliminate that line of thinking. Happiness always comes as quite elusive, but why? Well, because so many go on a quest for happiness, which is futile. You don't take a quest for happiness, you make a quest of happiness. Happiness is not a destination. There's no formula for it, there isn't a checklist where to do a number of particular things and then happiness is attained, and you're certainly less likely to find it if you're looking for it. Happiness is an emotion. You don't look for emotions, you feel them. Searching is an analytical process, and yes, I think there does need to be some thought that goes into what makes a person happy, but they are ultimately not similar processes. It's akin to why friends go on roadtrips; if four people take a road trip across the country, it's not them ending up in, say, San Francisco that made the trip great, it's the journey there. This is where so many people, myself included, often don't have, or fail to maintain, perspective on.

So what am I advocating? If happiness is the journey, not the destination of the journey, how does that help? Well, work on enjoying the journey. Instead of being in the passenger seat reading a map the whole trip, look out the window! See what's going on around you - why would you want to miss the scenery to look at a piece of paper? There's so much beauty and vitality around us that we shouldn't question. Instead of asking "why is this beautiful?" just think, "wow, this is beautiful!" And you know what? You're going to get lost. How could you not? You haven't been reading the map, but who cares? Getting lost and enjoying it is a far greater experience than not getting lost and being none the better for it.

Stigma Around Mental Illness

Generally speaking, I am not easily lured into pissing matches online. Every so often, though, there will be an occasion, and I happened upon one last night. My intent was merely to make a stand. There is a really bad combination to find in people, a triad of characteristics that consist of ignorance (and in many cases, willful ignorance), insensitivity, and outspokenness. It's the perfect storm, the individual is uneducated and unreceptive to learning about a topic, takes that lack of knowledge and frames it in the worst way possible, and then puts it on display because the individual knows nothing other than being belligerent about things. I encountered this type of individual who responded in a very pompous, condescending way to a question regarding therapy, and that is an instant way to get me to see red. I need not go into all the details of the exchange, but it does bring an issue to the forefront for me: mental illness and stigma.

I have psychological issues. I have fluctuations between depression and dysthymia, and have also dealt with anxiety issues and some small obsessive tendencies from time to time. I think it sucks, but it is reality, and I am not ashamed to admit it, nor will I shy away from the fact. I don't have to go advertise it in an attempt for sympathy, because I don't want or need it. Rather, I wish that there were more people willing to put themselves out there, to stand for something that others are reluctant to. The world could use a few very successful, very bold people to step out and say, "I lead a very fulfilling life and overcome mental illness to do it". Perhaps more than that, however society could benefit from having a higher number of lower profile people doing the same. Maybe it requires the former to trigger the latter, but maybe not. Certainly a well respected person doing so could inspire others to take a leap of faith, but there's also the flip side where it could be reasoned that a prominent person can afford to do so because he/she is already in a good position in life. That's where I feel the strength in numbers kicks in. While mental illness is not openly discussed very often, it's managed to break away from some of the stigma of old. Sure, it's not much solace to say "yeah, at least they don't lock us in prisons anymore", but I think in general attitudes have shifted from one of discomfort, fear, or distaste for people with psychological afflictions, or the thought of sharing those afflictions of others, to merely one of avoidance. Many times it is the case where one person will take the plunge and confess to having depression or some other ailment, and once the topic is out there, all of the sudden others are comfortable enough to come out of the woodwork and reveal the same. It sometimes just takes that one person to have the courage to take the lead on it.

For me, I am very quick to point out to others who mention stigma how it is not as prevalent and they insist it is, but it's still far from gone, and the best way for me to help combat it is to stand up rather than stand aside. Stigma cannot be allowed to win out, and it takes resolve to stand in its face. I am fully aware there may be times to turn the other cheek; those times, to me, are when issues are about me. I will take the high road if someone wants to attack me more often than not, but the instant you make sweeping generalization about any sort of group, now I have people to fight for. Doing this isn't for everyone, but I hope that others will take this into consideration. Not contributing to society's preconceptions is good, but fighting against those who perpetuate them is great. Of course, someone could come right back and say, "that is just an articulate way of framing your internet pissing match". The last detail of this story is that I shared some conversation with another person after the fact, someone who also elected to stand up and not tolerate the derisive remarks of an individual hiding behind a monitor. To me, sharing that moment with a stranger who shares a common bond was beautiful. Change happens slowly, but you never know what lovely stranger can come along and help you break stigma, one person at a time.