There is value in that idea.

But sometimes I’ve found this alternate version far more helpful:

If a job’s worth doing at all, it’s worth doing badly.

There are days when doing the next job well feels impossible. Even starting feels hard. When it comes to motivation, sometimes we have to lower our targets. There’s few things as off-putting as feeling we’re expected to achieve an impossible target, and we’re not talking here about the reality of our ability – just how we feel about it.

And the real-life paradox is that our second or third best is almost always good enough.

The thing is, fear of failure can totally paralyse you.

One of our sons joined the selective school where I was teaching. He seemed to be having a good time, doing okay, though I deliberately didn’t pry. Then in the summer term he seemed to fall apart. And finally I got it. We had exams each summer for all year groups. He was in a competitive environment. I asked him how well he expected to do. Didn’t know. What were we expecting him to achieve? Don’t know. Neither do we, I said; we’re just going to wait for the results, and then we’ll know what you can do.

At once he relaxed. Am impossible target with unknown repercussions for failure had been removed. And it was all the more frightening because he hadn’t even known what the target was.

There are a couple of old posts relating to this: here and here. They’re in a series ‘Effective Goal Setting’. And that second link has a recent cartoon fragment in its full environment.

Trick 4

How well do you think you need to do? Identify that ambition which is holding you down and ditch it. Today you feel rough, so things just aren’t going to be that good. You can always come back on a good day and fix things. All you have to do for now is do the job badly. It’s okay. You can always take the ambition back on board when you’re having a good day.

Trick 4.1

It can be hard to ditch a target or an ambition. Try recalling other times when you’ve felt like this, managed to get started, and been surprised by how good the result was. Recall times when you thought you’d really fouled up, yet people you trust told you how good you were. Feel just a little optimistic Go on, you know you want to.

Share on Facebook

As a teacher doing a lot more than just classroom teaching there would be times when I’d be running flat out just to keep up. I’d be alive in order to work, although satisfied I was doing a worthwhile job. The alarm would go at 5.40 am and that would be it till I got home, usually just in time for tea at 6.00 pm. After that was marking and other bits of catching up. Then half doze watching something on TV with Jenny, and early to bed in preparation for that 5.40 alarm.

Now I’m retired from teaching I do most of my ‘work’ at home, but sometimes it’s hard to get out of bed in the morning, it’s hard to make myself get washed and dressed, it’s a cloudy day and maybe raining so I just write a bit if I can, read a bit, watch TV with Jenny. If I’m depressed then I’ll probably play some computer game for hours, if really depressed go back to bed.

These are opposing scenarios except for one key factor: in neither situation am I getting any physical exercise to speak of. And after a while it shows. I feel more tired, get more stressed, sleep less well, think less clearly. In general I enjoy life less, and am of less value to other people. Everything becomes harder to start.

Our bodies are complex systems made up of complex interacting systems. To be honest the experts are still only scratching the surface of how we really function. But one thing that is clear: our minds and bodies work better if we get a modest amount of exercise every day.

The technical term is aerobic exercise but that conjures up a range of images that needn’t apply. What I’m talking about is gentle exercise of any sort that never gets you out of breath and doesn’t leave you sore the next day. The amount and intensity depend on how much you’ve done in the last few weeks, and of course on your age and health. When I was typically running 50 miles a week, a relaxed five mile run in 35-40 mins would have fitted the bill nicely. These days I’ve got ‘post-viral fatigue’, and a walk lasting between ten and twenty minutes is all I can manage. If I go too fast I’ll be too tired to walk the next day, so I try to be careful.

There’s a related old post here.

Trick 3

What type of physical exercise that is continuous for at least ten minutes do you most enjoy (or least dislike)? Do it most days. Get some air into your lungs, the blood flowing, listen to the beat of your heart getting up to natural revs. And as days pass notice the little ways in which you start to feel more like living.

Share on Facebook

I really can't be bothered (part of a 'Uses for a maths teacher' cartoon by Miriam Slechter

Do you ever have days when nothing feels worth starting and everything is shades of grey? Days when the sun doesn’t shine, and getting out of bed is the hardest thing you’ve ever done? Periods when the smallest chore becomes an impossible task?

Well of course you do. You’re human.

I remember someone telling me that as a youngster he worried he’d inherited chronic depression from his Mum. Later at university he discovered that everyone feels down for a few days at a time, now and then. It’s normal.

Actually feeling like this in adolescence (call that ages 12-25 ) is common. The hormones are rampantly badly mixed, the challenges of life are to be faced without as yet the desired rewards. Who am I? What do I believe? What will I do with my life? How do I succeed? Am I happy? Do people like me? Does she love me?

I get this feeling of lethargy and inertia far more often, and sometimes far more severely, than people without clinical depression. But it’s basically the same feeling. Over forty five years I’ve had many tricks suggested to me. I’ve tried them out, and discovered other possibilities too. This series will be the things I have found work. For me. Often enough to be worth trying.

I’ll be including a mixture of quick, medium, and long term tricks. They won’t all suit you, but some will.

Imagine you are at the top of a hill and the enemy approaches. You need to roll that boulder down onto them. But at first it won’t shift. These will be tricks you can try that might get the boulder started rolling.

Miriam’s picture? Yes we know verticals should look vertical even in a cartoon, but it makes sense when you see the whole picture.

Share on Facebook

Yes, I was traumatised for many years. The abuse was merely emotional, but it hurt. Like it or not memories of those days dogged me for years. They simmered just below the surface and distorted my thinking and my behaviour. They made it far harder to learn how to cope with my own depression. They made it less likely I’d make a good parent myself.

I was exceedingly fortunate. Over the years I made a number of friends who listened attentively as I rambled on about how bad things had been. Some experiences I recounted again and again. Gradually I got used to them and they lost their power.

We all have painful memories. By and large they can be left alone because we’ve grown beyond them, but sometimes there’s one worth dealing with because it’s having a damaging effect now. In a previous post I described some NLP work I did with a student which enabled him to recreate an alternate version of a true memory. In the alternate version he handled an embarrassing situation as he would now with his increased maturity and understanding. If the bad memory surfaces he has the option of switching to the modified version. Which version is true? In a sense neither. The actual events happened, but they do not describe who he is now. He is able to relax and shrug off the embarrassment because he knows he has now used that experience, he has grown up.

Some memories are like feuds between families or nations. What triggered things happened long ago and we should move on, but somehow we can’t. Someone, perhaps a parent, treated us in some unfair way which has crippled us, and we continue to resent what they did and suffer the after effects. This is frighteningly normal, but hardly rational and certainly not helpful.

The trouble is that we may need more than friends loving enough to listen to our memories. We may need the skills and expertise of a counsellor trained and experienced in working with destructive memories.

Psychodynamic counselling does far more than just deal with memories, but it is one approach that might prove useful. I suspect Post-Trauma counselling could also be useful, though I’ve not experienced that kind. A competent NLP practitioner should also be able to help.

A triplet of warnings:

• You need to let go of destructive memories, yet if you’ve been hanging on to them grimly for decades that will not be easy. Approach this with your eyes open: it will be hard work, and it may prove very painful for a short time. It is worth it.
• There is evidence that some hidden memories which are affecting you now may best be left alone. Dragging them to the surface and experiencing them again can make matters worse. I suspect whether or not this happens has a lot to do with the relationship you and your counsellor have with each other.
• There are examples of counsellors looking for repressed memories, and phrasing their questions so badly that false memories are created in the client. Beware of a counsellor who asks closed questions such as “did your father abuse you” when they should be asking open questions like “thinking back, do you think any part of your childhood might have been worse than it should have been?”. Police are increasingly being trained to interview witnesses using only open questions and non emotive words because otherwise they run a high risk of altering the witness’s memories just by how they phrase the question. Loftus and Palmer did a neat experiment on this in 1974. Google ‘Loftus and Palmer 1974′ or check out this site which describes the research.

If you know of any other types of counselling which includes constructive reprocessing of bad memories please let me know. Thank you.

Share on Facebook

There’s a well-known saying about how to help people in poor countries: give a man a fish and you feed him for today, give him a fishing rod and he’s set for life. 

Of course if he’s too weak with hunger to fish for himself then a fish to eat first makes sense, but after that it’s wise to show him how you use the fishing rod to catch more fish, and then give him the rod.

In the previous post I described how I was helped after my first breakdown. I was referred to a doctor who specialised in student mental health problems. He first of all established a suitable relationship. Then he prescribed something to help with the immediate symptoms. After that he told me to try one possible strategy which should help, and it did. Since then I’ve been learning how to resolve many subsequent problems, and sometimes I’ve had guidance from counsellors – some of them doctors – on how to set about doing this.

The long-term target has been that I become someone who knows how to set about solving his own problems.

Arguably this should be a part of any type of counselling. It may not be an obvious part; if it’s there it may be hidden. Sometimes I’ve only realised afterwards that I’ve learned something by simply paying attention, observing the counsellor at work. This facet of their work might have been more effective if it had been conscious.

Everyone has problems; they’re a part of life. We start by passively letting someone else solve each problem for us. As we grow up we begin to understand how they have helped us. We begin to listen and to try things out for ourselves. Gradually we develop a stock of possible strategies to look through and experiment with. At this point we’re still immature. We need to learn how to deal with a fresh problem for which we currently have no solution: we need to learn how to solve problems ourselves. We need to move from being entirely dependent on other people like a baby to being independent.

Warning: independence is not the final goal. Adolescence is about becoming independent of our parents, finding out who we are. Full maturity requires us to move even further and to recognise the need to be interdependent, a member of society who helps and is helped by other people, a member of the family.

If you suffer the crippling effects of depression, or are human in any other way and face problems which appear insoluble, look for people who can help you. But don’t be passive. Do not look just for help with the most obvious current problem. Look beyond today and find out more about how you may be able to help yourself. Gradually begin to accept some responsibility for your own treatment. And if you are receiving counselling from someone who wants to do it all for you …

Share on Facebook

I was 21 when I had my first breakdown. I’d been suffering teenage depression on and off for six years but not known what it was, never questioned it. Suddenly I was too ill to go to lectures. In those days there was no specialist student health care, but a local GP (family doctor) had become increasingly concerned by the mental health problems he saw in his student patients. A year or two earlier he had decided to specialise in treating this epidemic. I was lucky enough to be referred to him by my own GP.

I don’t know what he prescribed me. Almost certainly a tricyclic antidepressant (this was autumn of 1970). I’ve just looked them up on the net and I certainly gained several recognised side effects: increased heart rate, drowsiness, blurred vision, dizziness, confusion. Mind you I was pretty confused when he first saw me.

The first consultation was weird. Okay so he sat behind a large desk and I had a traditional upright surgery chair. But he offered me a coffee, which was shrewd. It worked in much the same way as being given a drink when you arrive at a party. I had something to hold on to, something to take sips from as if I felt confident and purposeful.

His overall approach was way ahead of its time, perhaps because he had not been trained as a psychiatrist so came at the problem with fresh eyes. The starting point was medication, but he made it clear that the antidepressant was only to give me the opportunity to work hard at learning to cope with depression. So that’s what this was. Depression. Hmmm.

“The trouble is that when you feel down you have only the one escape route: running.”

I was a keen member of the university cross-country and athletics teams, and hell I enjoyed running. Best of all was ten or fifteen miles at relaxed pace through the beautiful countryside around Durham. That’s Durham England. If I felt a bit rough I went for a run. But if I felt seriously rough any attempt to run would be frustrating because the energy was gone. Clinical depression affects you physically. I would try to train and fail. The harder I worked at it the worse I got, which was absurd. Races were a waste of time.

“You try to escape by running and find that route is closed to you. What do you do? Nothing. You do nothing because you have no other escape routes set up apart from friends who are usually not available because they’re working or having a life of their own.”

I must have looked blank.

“When I get home from work I’m often feeling pretty rough. What do I do? I knock hell out of the garden. Do I like gardening? Sometimes. Not always. But I do it anyway, and it helps me feel better even when I don’t think I’m enjoying it. But some evenings it’s too dark or it’s raining heavily.”

What did he do then? Sorry, I can’t remember.

“Now you’re too depressed to run what other hobbies do you have?”

- I write.

“When was the last time you wrote?”

- well, er, I wrote a novel two years ago …

“Are you well enough to write?”

- er … well … I read a lot. I listen to music.

“You just told me you’re picking up books, trying to read them, and giving up after just a page or two. You said music isn’t doing anything for you anymore. In fact you have nothing but friends to fall back on when you’re this ill.”

I doubt I nodded, but he was right.

He told me I must find at least one new hobby. How? Well I could try browsing the local bookshop to see if anything caught my eye.

“This is your homework. You find one new activity to try. I don’t care what it is so long as you try it. No matter whether you find a new hobby first time off, the key thing is to try something. And then something else. And we keep going till you have a battery of escape routes to fall back on when you’re depressed. See you next week. Good luck.” He smiled and shook my hand firmly.

I went to the local bookshop (these days a Waterstones but not then). It was an Aladdin’s cave, but cold and dark and grey with the air like treacle. I kept wanting to cry but I made myself work through every single shelf of non-fiction. I read every title. I took some books off the shelf for a browse.

I have no idea what activity I picked, but I do remember the faint glimmer of light that doing something, anything, left me feeling ever so slightly better. No, I didn’t feel happy. No, I still couldn’t think straight. No, the future was still black. But something eased just a tiny bit, barely enough to notice. I had made a crucial discovery: when you’re depressed doing anything is better than just sitting around thinking about how bad you feel.

Actually there were two other long-term results: a lifelong love of browsing bookshops (which fortunately my wife shares, though it’s cost a lot of money over the years), and a tremendous variety of interests. To focus enough on writing to produce the next book for my agent to try and sell I’ve had to be brutal in sidelining many hobbies.

The doctor cum counsellor I saw in Durham from 1970 through 1972 used a range of techniques. The one I’ve described above would probably now be called solution-focused therapy. It was exactly what I needed at the time, and has benefited me ever since. I’ve sometimes used it with people I’ve tried to help, but rarely as forcefully as it was used on me: once I had a really bad weekend and made an appointment to see this doctor. What was I supposed to do when I realised I was getting worse? Anything but sit around moping. What had I done over the weekend? Sat around moping. There’s your answer so next weekend have stuff planned and do it no matter how you feel. Just do it. He then warned me that if I ever came back complaining of being worse yet had not followed this strategy then he’d not see me again. Hard words, but spoken forcefully at exactly the right time. The next weekend I had planned in detail, and I stuck with the plan. I didn’t feel okay. But I didn’t feel worse. Success! Often success for a depressive is entering a bad situation and simply not feeling worse than before.

If your counsellor proposes some action on your part then you have only two rational choices: you can give it a go, or you can stop seeing that therapist. And what harm is it going to do trying out their suggestion? After all, it might work. You’ll be sure it won’t, but give it a go. Give it a serious go, and in so far as you can when ill be open minded. Not every suggestion will work, but you can be almost certain that when you first hear of something that can help you’ll try to reject it; that is part of depression.

Share on Facebook

Relax. I'll be bouncing around again in a few minutes.

There are moments when suicide makes sense.

That is, it feels like it makes sense.

In the moment.

Especially if that moment drags on for days or weeks.

Today we heard of the death of influential fashion designer Alexander McQueen. Someone very close to him had just died. It’s not known at this stage if he committed suicide, but the possibility has been mooted.

That got me thinking.

If my wife Jenny dies before me then I’m sure I will be devastated, and I’ll not be at all surprised if I feel there’s no longer any point in staying alive myself. Living with chronic depression is tough, and such thoughts can flitter though my mind. Usually they are weak and comfortably brief. But I have nearly lost Jenny several times so I have a sense of how I may feel.

What I’ve done is promise myself I will allow time to recover from the immediate grief before making any critical decisions such as whether to move house. I guess suicide also counts as a critical decision.

You see when emotions are strong or depression is deep we don’t think straight. During depression is exactly the time NOT to make important decisions. I’m lucky. I know my depression will ease, so I just postpone following through on any ideas till I’m feeling better. It works. Some of the ideas then make sense, and some I realise are just plain silly.

When depression first hit in 1970 and I had no idea what was wrong with me I felt a bit suicidal. I talked to friends and that helped. My Doctor referred me to a specialist and that started me on the road to understanding, learning to cope, and realising depression was only temporary. Mind you that temporary episode lasted over eighteen months, but I survived. And I’m glad I did.

Many years later one depressive episode brought extended thoughts of suicide, and a friend (Peter Jolly) helped me through the suicidal stage.

If you are feeling like death could be an option then please talk it through with a good friend, and if you’re not already receiving treatment for depression then please go and see a Doctor as soon as possible. There are medicines that can probably help you, although some take several weeks before you feel the effects.

Above all else, be patient. If you want to kill yourself now, it will pass. Life will get better. There will be times worth experiencing again.

Afterthought

When I suggest chatting with a friend I’m not suggesting you text everyone in your address book. Some depressed people contact all their friends saying where they are and that they are about to kill themselves. If that’s what you’re doing then you are in a rough state and you do need professional help, but maybe what you’re really doing is trying to attract attention. You may be trying to shout ‘HELP!’ or you may just like the fuss. The trouble is that friends rapidly become fed up with you if you try this more than once. And let’s face it, friends shouldn’t be abused like that. Or to put it from a selfish viewpoint (which is much easier to grasp when depressed) you need your friends to still be there if it ever gets really serious.

Share on Facebook