Let All Who Are To Mirth Inclined

I am very sad.

It's strange because, as a budding psychologist, I spend a lot of my time combatting sad, battling depression and dysthymia in World War Angst. It occurs to me that in our society, we are not just dealing with increased incidence (reported incidence) of depression and other mood disorders, but we are also incredibly intolerant of normal sadness. The pursuit of happiness is part of the American dream... and so often assumed to be part of it's quiet upstairs neighbour's dream as well. So much so, that when life's little foibles conspire to make us understandably, naturally, and normally sad, we tend to pathologize it.

Currently, I am intensely and absolutely sad. But it's okay. A dear loved one is slowly being eaten by cancer, our family is shaken, and we are struggling to make sure that those with special needs who are left behind are properly taken care of. Our car recently gave up the ghost and has left us with a hefty repair bill, not to mention left me lugging 40+lbs of psychological tests around with me on the bus every day. We've recently discovered that another dear (yet immensely more problematic) family member has a gambling addiction and that their partner is either moderately cognitively impaired or entirely codependent. A thesis defence date has finally been set and I have a veritable butt-wad of assignments coming due. Oh, and I've started taking on my own cases (including feedbacks) at my practicum site. A whole helly heck of lotta responsididdlyibility all at once. And a whole lotta sad...

But, uh, pretty damned reasonable sadness, wouldn't you think? I do. And I think I'm pretty damned lucky to have the support of compassionate, understanding friends. I'm lucky because I can sense the intense discomfort of some people who ask me how I'm doing and to whom I tell the truth. It's not just the surprise of hearing something other than the pattented "I'm fine. How are you?" It's the shock of having someone tell you plainly, "I'm intensely sad and here's why." It's also the disbelief that despite being this sad, that I'm okay. That I am okay with being sad right now because given my current (and temporary) life circumstances that I am comfortable with being sad. I am supposed to be. And I don't want to rush into some medical or illicit treatment to numb myself from this necessary emotion.

I've been asked if I need to take time off. (And I might when my MIL's death is imminent or I'm grieving.) I've been offered medication from a doctor and drugs from an acquaintance. I've been told that it's okay if I decide to verbally abuse someone (as if I needed to take out my frustration on an undeserving stranger), and it's been suggested that I could increase my drinking and no one would give it a second thought. While I truly appreciate the definite fact that these people were all entirely well meaning... Their hearts were all in the right the place, but unfortunately their heads were firmly lodged directly up their bottoms. While I might in one of my weaker moments engage in an unhealthy coping mechanism, I'm not seeking permission from anyone to do so. What strikes me is that these people seemed to be minorly panicking to say something meaningful to me... to be helpful... to get me UNsad. They weren't trying to be anything other than helpful, but they were also trying to make themselves feel better. To protect themselves from "catching" my sad.

I understand. I get it. I am a therapist after all. And meloncholy apparently enjoys company. I get that people want to protect themselves from sadness. But, it's okay... ya know... to be sad when something sad is going on.

So yeah. I'm sad. And it's okay. I'm going to be okay. It's going to take a while, and some of my relationships with certain family members are going to take some time and pain to change to be more healthy. But it's going to happen. It IS happening. In the meantime, I'm going to be sad. I will allow the beautiful small moments of happy to also come through.

:)