Photo by Maranatha Pizarras on Unsplash
I was recently in a program for treating major depression. One day the group topic had turned to discussing the relationship between anger and depression. “Depression is anger turned inward” my therapist would say, and we’d talk about what that made me think about. It wasn’t too long before I finally stopped long enough to be mindful of some sources of the anger that were making me be inwardly angry.
The sources of anger were obvious. Things like a client not paying my consulting bill despite agreement on the great work and using the work in marketing materials; my leaving a great job in my field of 25 years to pursue my “dream job” in an area outside of my field but where I had great passion (only to experience it as a nightmare and quitting to preserve my health and sanity); struggling with finances as I looked for my next career opportunity (and doing that at nearly 50 years old); and learning how to manage a new, lifelong heart problem (atrial fibrillation) that decided to appear when my heart was “broken” from the stress of the above.
But more importantly, I turned my mind to what I was telling myself in my head as I processed those anger triggers. “You’re a failure! You should have done more research on that ‘dream job’ before you took it! You wouldn’t be in this mess if you had done more of whatever-it-is-you-didn’t-know-but-should have done! You really shouldn’t have trusted that client to pay you, it was obvious he was all talk – how dumb are you? You ruined your life. Your heart issue is too much to deal with! Why do you even try?” And I swear to you, I thought they were all true and all worthy things to say to myself. I’d have even defended such statements to myself as me giving myself “Tough Love.” A pep talk of sorts.
Yet as I sat in my program and talked through these messages, my therapist pointed out that these were all very horrible things to say. Were they true? Really true? No, they were not. Were they kind? Of course not. Were there other messages I could be sending to myself that were more compassionate and healing? Yes.
It turns out that when I tell people about the ‘dream-job-turned-nightmare’ they all say, “Wow, of
course you tried that – you’d have regretted your whole life if you hadn’t.” Also, as it turns out, lots of people trusted that client and worked very hard as expert consultants on that project. I wasn’t the only one (as yet) still unpaid – it was an ill-timed problem for my personal circumstances -- but the leap of faith to engage in that project wasn’t without merit. And how silly is it to think you should be able to do more of something you had no idea of what that was? And who hasn’t had some bumps in the road? But what really got me -- what really made me weep in one of those therapy moments -- was when it was pointed out to me that I would NEVER talk to my child that way.
As a point of background, my daughter is a beautiful, spirited, soon-to-be 9-year old. Another thing about my daughter is that she has Down syndrome. So, she takes longer to learn things and sometimes processes things differently than a typical child. For example, she’s been in the same level of gymnastics for four years just because she won’t do this one skill on the bar that will advance her to the next level. Do I shame her by saying, “You are just not cut out for this! This is a waste of our time! Why do I even bother to bring you here every week?” OF COURSE NOT! Instead, we choose to try approaches that help her with her challenges: we bought a bar to practice at home (which she will practice every other skill but the one we need her to do, ha!); we encourage gently and give a big cheer every week before she goes to that station; we have gymnast friends try to help her and make it a “group project”; and the awesome cartwheels she does instead of focusing on the bar situation get all kinds of “whoop whoops” from my husband and me when we both sit and watch practice every week without fail. We don’t fret Violet’s timing for learning things. She’s our beautiful girl and we celebrate her gifts. I want her to be a kind and responsible and independent person, and I will help her get there with a kind, compassionate and effective mix of discipline, positive rewards and humor. I believe there is a way to do that. And it doesn’t involve shame or negative put downs that are the likes of how I was managing my own self.
In raising Violet, I have never spoken to her in the voice I used to talk to myself. Never in a million
years! Every small gain is a big deal and is celebrated so enthusiastically! So why, when I was most vulnerable, most challenged and most weak myself would I turn on such negative voices to myself? Why would I “parent” myself with such negative voices? Because depression. My angry voice turned inward was making things worse.
If I can parent a child in a kind, compassionate and patient way, why can’t I extend the same kindness as a parent-like voice to my own hurting soul? Someone from my group suggested that I put a photo of myself as a child around my daughter’s age as the screen shot on my phone to remind myself that I am worthy of the same kind of self-talk that I would use to talk to myself at that age. Young Karen represented in the photo is someone who doesn’t need to hear negative and mean voices telling her how to live her life. She needs a kinder and more compassionate delivery of the message to help her manage the rough patches and challenges that come with life.
I now have that photo of a younger me saved on my phone as my wallpaper. When I see it, it reminds me to check the tone of the messages I tell myself. And I’m a much kinder parent to myself.
Go here to read more about self-compassion and its impact on health.
Karen lives with her husband and daughter in Chanhassen, Minnesota. She works in advertising for a large advertising agency in New York. She’s an advocate for the Down syndrome community and a Coach for Special Olympics MN. In her spare time, she enjoys running and gardening, while listening to Prince music.
This is Karen’s first-ever blog post, and she’s hoping as she finds her voice as a mental health and Down syndrome advocate she will be more inspired to share her journey with more writing.