The Riddle of Resilience

 Resilience is the process of recovering in the face of adversity. Resilience is not a trait people have or don’t have; it involves behaviors, thoughts, actions that can be learned and developed in anyone.

Who rallies and who succumbs to hardship is not easy to predict as shown in a comparison of my years of experience with two patients whom I’ll refer to as Mr. C and Ms. Z.

 

After decades of working for a big corporation, Mr. C. witnessed flaws in the system which he believed led to the death of a child.  He tried to inform his superiors who ignored his concerns. He became increasingly angry and feared he’d resort to revenge, buy a gun and shoot his boss and co-workers.

Mr. C. ‘s thoughts were disorganized at times and vaguely paranoid, focused on the lack of caring of large businesses. According to the Diagnostic Statistical Manual (of the American Psychiatric Association which links symptoms to diagnostic categories) Mr. C. would be diagnosed as schizophrenic.  I took his threats seriously and testified in court, advising that he be excused from work.

Mr. C. was willing to take medication and attend weekly psychotherapy sessions. He acknowledged a problem with alcohol and  began to follow the AA program. He found wisdom in the Serenity prayer, ”God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.” He began to ask and distinguish what he was able to change in his life, and what he had to accept as immutable.

For several years, he ranted and raved about past and present events in regard to recent struggles with the ‘indifferent’ corporation. I listened and realized he did not want me to intervene as he ventilated.(The sessions were tough for me because I had to be alert and silent).

Then for no reason beyond the passage of time, his rage lessened and he allowed me to comment. I supported his present goals, including taking better care of himself, eating well, going to the gym and fixing up his home. 

The gym served the purpose of providing social life. He gravitated to people who needed his advice, serving as a lay therapist as he shared what he’d learned from his years of therapy.

By contrast, Ms. Z, a highly intelligent woman with a Ph.D., was injured at work.  In weekly sessions, she expressed herself well and her thinking showed no disorder beyond a rigid defensiveness which locked her into less than satisfying patterns of behavior. She held on to super-high expectations of other people and wasn’t able to extricate herself from a life long pattern of hoarding. She confessed to imbibing several martinis a day but refused to consider that alcohol might contribute to her problems. She preferred to remain isolated and alone, although she included me in her short list of trustworthy doctors/people.

Mr. C. recognized exercise helped him feel strong and positive and to let go of his rage. The gym also provided social contact. He acknowledged that his life had never been better. Ms. Z denied the needs of her body. She drank and remained relatively sedentary.

I can’t explain the outcomes of these two people on the basis of intelligence, education, or diagnosis (or ability to form a working alliance with me). Perhaps a major variable related to resilience is exercise.

Conclusion:  To a degree, resilience remains a riddle.   We best keep an open mind in predicting who will bounce back and adjust or even excel in the face of adversity.

 Our minds can lock us into a prison of our own making. The mind/body/feeling (or spiritual) connection most likely contributes to resilience and resiliency.

Dear Reader, I invite you to share your thoughts, feelings and experiences.  (jsimon145@gmail.com)

The Moment's Mutability

Almost everything has cycles. Day fades into Night. Sunny weather alternates with rain. The stock market goes up and down;  Bull morphs to Bear and back again.

Some of these cycles, like day and night, are relatively predictable. Others, like understanding the fluctuations in the stock market, are more mysterious and elusive.

What doesn’t vacillate is our tendency to be thrown by change as if we  expect a smooth ride on a bucking bronco (of life).

  “Good times” (growth, birth) are followed by those we experience as “bad times” (sickness, loss). We often become stuck, thinking the moment will last forever, whether it is a “good” or “bad” one. Events can turn to better or worse, at any moment, but our human mind fears and defends against it, longing for stability. (I think this is one of the paradoxes of the human condition which I’ve mentioned in an earlier blog--yearning for something we can’t have).

In his  New York Times editorial on April 3, David Brooks writes, ” …we are all terrible at imagining how we will feel in the future. We exaggerate how much the future will be like the present.”

While Brooks was writing about Mr. Snelling’s situation, caring for a wife with Alzheimer’s disease, I’ve seen a similar attitude expressed by one of my patients whom I’ll call Ralph.

Ralph’s mind resists taking in the positive events in his life. In spite of success with his art, he clings to the idea he is a failure. He claims his outlook protects him (from the future pain of loss).

But this defense deprives him of the experience of pleasure. This lop-sided perception of reality leaves him depleted, adding the burden of depression and suicidal thoughts.

QUESTION: If we acknowledge and accept the two sides of reality, gain and loss, would we be less distressed and happier in the long run?

I invite you dear readers to respond. 

WAIT

Who calls out advising “wait”!

Who says moments sail straight

Or could our fate alternate?

With the grace of a dove in flight

Dear Reader: I welcome your comments. (jsimon145@gmail.com)

How Now Courage

(In memoriam: Katherine Russell Rich)

What does it take to summon our courage, to take the risk to grasp our authenticity? By authenticity, I mean the purpose for our existence. Not what someone else determines for us, but what we define for ourselves. To ask and listen to the answer: Am I doing what I’m supposed to do, what I really want to do in this life time? 

The voice of authenticity may be spoken in our hearts and minds in sotto voce.  One has to listen closely and pay attention. Hearing and heeding this voice is not easy. Many of us go through life denying its existence. We bury the answer in excuses because we’re afraid of the consequences: we may disappoint someone, or ourselves; we may fail or go hungry.

Jerry, a thirty year old journalist, moved to New York City to become a psychotherapist.  It took twenty years when he turned fifty, to admit that he hadn’t followed his plan. Now he acknowledged the brevity of time and he couldn’t procrastinate anymore.

 Katherine Russell Rich wrote in an Oprah Magazine essay, “When I was told I was going to die, I was shredded to realize I hadn’t made any real difference (as an editor)….the life of a writer was uncertain, but as a writer, it seemed, I might leave a mark.”

Kathy’s breast cancer first appeared when she was 32 years old. In spite of treatment, it returned seven years later as Stage 4-the most advanced stage possible having spread to her spine, breaking her bones and leaving her temporarily paralyzed. She was told she would live a year or two at most. But Kathy was a fighter.

At that turning point, further treatment gave her the courage to quit editing and become a writer.

 Her memoir The Red Devil: To Hell with Cancer and Back described her odyssey through the treatments and inspired fellow cancer patients.  

Later she said her treatments and ‘pugnacious engagement’ with her illness gave her the fortitude to move to India for a year to learn Hindi and to recount in a second memoir, Dreaming in Hindi: Coming Awake in Another Language, published in 2009.

She accepted all the treatment which delayed the cancer’s  progress, but ultimately killed her Tues, April 3^rd at the age of 56.

I had the good fortune to experience her tutelage twice at a conference on Publishing Books sponsored by Harvard Medical School under the expert direction of Julie Silver, M.D. .

Kathy was a generous,  encouraging mentor, yet constructively critical, a rare and admirable combination of qualities.  (The opposite style of tortuous game-playing  is embodied  in Seminar by Theresa Rebeck, currently on  Broadway; Leonard,  a celebrity teacher, incorporates a broad streak of sadism in his instruction of  four aspiring novelists.)

             

The second time I benefitted from her instruction, in April  a year ago, Kathy appeared frail. Her lackluster dark hair was sparse and dry. She required a cane and navigated with a bad limp. Her voice emanated from her constricted throat with a strained, low-pitched whisper. In spite of her physical limitations and obvious physical discomfort, she delivered an excellent lecture on Memoir and presided over two seminars with groups of about ten of us. She had read our work and written encouraging comments on each submission beforehand.

At the conference’s end, I headed back to New York and by coincidence

caught a glimpse of Kathy at the Back Bay  train station.  Propped on the bare wooden bench in the cold, damp building, she sat alone, reading. She seemed to be in a state of deep peace. I offered to help her lug her little suitcase down to the train platform; she thanked me but refused, saying she could manage.

Many of us live denying the reality of our mortality. I’ve seen people overpowered by fear who deal for years with psychological symptoms caused by an inability to confront the subject. I have witnessed people incapable of expressing gratitude or turning over their fortune to their loved ones who have sacrificed for them. 

(For me this brings up the theme of the Impossibility of our Human condition: to acknowledge our finite existence and deal with it constructively, may be our most difficult task.)

Kathy was a gifted writer, a magnificent mentor, and a woman of remarkable courage.  I sing praise for her and her life of accomplishment.

CONCLUSION: To embrace a life of authenticity and confront our mortality are heroic accomplishments. 

Dear Reader: I welcome your comments. (jsimon145@gmail.com)

Big And Not So Big Days

What makes one day Big  and another not as big? “Today is a Big Day,” Albert, the young man in Michael Morpurgo’s story of  War Horse, (recently made into a play and movie) says to his new half thoroughbred horse, Joey.  Albert and Joey  will attempt to plow a dry stony field, a task arduous enough to break  the plow’s blades  and the horse’s backbone.  (They succeed and the Day is big in a Positive way.)

Many happenings lie beyond our control: smooth connections of busses and subways; an unexpected call from a long lost friend; an invitation to a party; a promotion at work after a co-worker’s precipitous departure.

I think it’s important to take note of the Big and not so Big Days because Life naturally has ups and downs. We may feel we’ve stagnated, as if nothing will ever change, or  we may focus on the Downs.  When we take note of the Big Days in which dramatic changes occur (for the better), we’re making note of the Ups. The Big Moments help us surmount the lows, like coasting downhill on a bicycle before we have to pump uphill again.

 

The life of one of my clients presented many hills to climb.  We became aware that the work of psychotherapy divided  into cycles of  ‘uphill’ (pumping) ‘downhill’ (whizzing), and ‘plateaus’ (coasting on level ground).

I acknowledge I’m ‘addicted’ to the Big Days. Daily journaling offers the chance to ask how I can transform a day into a Big One. (I can do it! I can tackle a dreaded task which has loomed overhead like Damocles’ sword. I can clean out that overstuffed closet which I’ve put off for years.)

CONCLUSION: Many of us yearn for stability, but we don’t do well if we experience stagnation. Calling attention to these natural cycles of ups and downs helps us feel engaged, involved, alive.

Dear Reader, Please share what makes a Big Day for you. (jsimon145@gmail.com)