Mom was a Jungian—sort of.
A World War II-era
psychiatric nurse, she understood there are times when talking through a
problem simply wasn’t enough. She knew the health of the mind was inextricably
linked to the health of the body. She’d seen firsthand the devastating effect
of shell shock, as well as the psychosis and personality changes suffered by her
sister when a well-meaning fool burst a goiter on her sister’s neck. She also
knew entire families could suffer with mental health issues, and it wasn’t a
matter of fault. They were born that way.
To her way of thinking, we’re
all born that way. Even people wired to be happy can find themselves devastated
by circumstances beyond their control—the death of a loved one, terminal
illness, injury and global catastrophe. Sometimes sadness or a feeling of utter
powerlessness is the only rational response to a situation. As someone who’d
experienced her share of tragedy, she knew grief was a natural part of the
human condition. The trick was to prevent the sorrow from becoming more
calamitous than its cause.
Safe, effective
anti-depressants hadn’t been invented yet. So Mom and her colleagues explored
other modes of treatment. Mom focused on the coping mechanisms developed
independently by those who routinely struggled with depression. She was
particularly struck by Winston Churchill’s way of dealing with his “Black Dog”.
Whenever Churchill felt himself sliding into despair, he would go into the
garden and lay bricks on a wall.
To a Jungian, the symbolism
was obvious. The wall represented a physical and symbolic barrier between him
and his troubles. But Mom took it further. Analyzing newspaper and magazine
articles she found in the base library, she concluded Churchill’s deepest
depressions coincided with moments where he felt most powerless. View in that
light, the wall was also his way of exerting control over his world.
Few people in Mom’s orbit had
the luxury of building a wall. Hell, if you were living in military housing,
chances were you didn’t even have a yard. But control—Mom understood control. I
used to describe her as a combination of the kinder, gentler qualities of
Napoleon Bonaparte, Niccolo Machiavelli and Attila the Hun. Full disclosure:
they didn’t have any. What they did have, however, was the ability to assess
the available resources and apply them to the problem at hand.
Ultimately Mom decided the
best alternative for building a wall was cleaning a bathroom. The two tasks
shared many attributes. Cleaning a bathroom seldom qualifies as a daily
necessity. It’s usually something you could choose to do. Or not. It involves
manageable levels of physical labor (subsequently shown to help the body
self-regulate its chemistry). It can be done in a limited amount of time. It
offers tangible results. It harms no one, yet invariably leads to a sense of
accomplishment. When I was young, she insisted it was the only viable therapy for
a growing girl; a big, strong man like my dad could clean the stove. (What? You
didn’t think she practiced her trade on Dad and me? See the historical role
models listed above.) But later, after she finally sprang for a regular
cleaning lady, she admitted any self-contained, productive activity could suffice,
from washing the car to baking cookies for a friend.
Mom died twelve years ago,
but I still use the “bathroom trick”. I don’t always clean a bathroom.
Sometimes I don’t even bother with physical exertion. It doesn’t really matter
what I do. The key is restoring a sense of control through a personal achievement,
no matter how small.
Mom would have been the first
to say the strategy doesn’t always work. Plus, it’s only a therapy, not a cure.
But she believed that any strategy that took the edge off pain without causing
harm should be shared. I share it in that spirit. If it helps anyone who reads
this, I’ll consider it worthwhile. So would she.
***
About
the campaign:
#HoldOnToTheLight
is a blog campaign encompassing blog posts by fantasy and science fiction
authors around the world in an effort to raise awareness around treatment for
depression, suicide prevention, domestic violence intervention, PTSD
initiatives, bullying prevention and other mental health-related issues. We
believe fandom should be supportive, welcoming and inclusive, in the long
tradition of fandom taking care of its own. We encourage readers and fans to seek
the help they or their loved ones need without shame or embarrassment.
Please consider donating to or
volunteering for organizations dedicated to treatment and prevention such as: American
Foundation for Suicide Prevention, Home for the Warriors (PTSD), National
Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), Canadian Mental Health Association, MIND
(UK), SANE (UK), BeyondBlue (Australia), To Write Love On Her Arms and the National
Suicide Prevention Hotline.
To find out more about #HoldOnToTheLight,
find a list of participating authors, or reach a media contact, go to https://www.facebook.com/groups/276745236033627/.
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