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I have had an unsteady relationship with my father for most of my life. Depending on my age, he wore the hat of genius, villain, survivor, jerk, superhero, traitor and confidant. Being the child of a parent who has depression has been a very confusing experience.
Melvin Irwin Noodelman (quite the name, right?) embodies the contradiction of highly functioning and nonfunctional depressed human. At times he is intelligent, quick-witted and gifted, and at other times he simply morphs into this black hole. Depression has gotten in the way of us understanding each other’s words, actions and intentions, fraying our relationship, almost (but not quite), beyond repair.
My friend and I were catching up at this cool coffee shop – hipster vibe, lots of green plants – when she told me something surprising. On a recent flight of hers, the plane offered an entertainment option of guided meditations for flight anxiety and general wellness. As the conversation unfolded, I was amazed to realize how reluctant we both were to really try out meditation – let alone commit to the practice.
You might have noticed there is Zen trend going out right now, with whispers of vague but important health benefits. So, I sought to find out why people choose to sit awkwardly on the floor for long periods of time.
One time I was invited to a party on a Saturday night and had the horrible debacle of having to choose an outfit for a roomful of strangers that I had to make my friends – or at least amicable acquaintances. Cue my heart racing, sweaty palms, a pile full of clothes that would not do, and me eating a tub of peanut butter instead of going out to socialize.
Although it doesn’t always feel like it, anxiety is a pretty ubiquitous human emotion. Beck (1976), the father of CBT, has even said it’s a mark of man’s humanness. On the upside, this would seem to suggest that we are not alone in having to kung-fu our away around managing anxiety.
“Ugh. I can’t believe you forgot to book your flight when the price dropped – useless! Now you’ll NEVER pay off your credit card. If you can’t handle this, YOU CAN’T HANDLE ANYTHING.”
You might be wondering who that incredibly mean person is, and I’ll tell you. That bully is me, talking to myself.
Can you ever imagine CHOOSING to spend time listening to someone who constantly puts you down and makes you want to cry? Yet, most of us spend time listening to and believing our negative self-talk.
I woke up with my face swollen and belly bloated, feeling like I had physically and emotionally trudged through the food battle of my lifetime. The entire contents of my kitchen had not so conveniently relocated into my abdomen. With an overwhelming sense of shame, I tried my best to hide my latest binge episode from the world. End Scene.
I would love to be able to tell you that I only had a few binge episodes, but the truth is that I struggled with binge eating disorder (BED) for years. For me, food became the substance I forced down to escape the emotional aches of my life.
