Trying too hard to be happy

The other day I woke up feeling bad tempered and depressed. All I could think about was what was wrong with everything – my breakfast, my schedule for the day, my hair – everything! It was tempting to try to make myself feel happy by using all the techniques I know for transforming depression into happiness. But I knew from bitter past experience that this is not a good idea. Trying to forcibly push up my mood in the past has resulted in feeling even worse, and set off devastating mood swings.

So instead I sucked it up and resigned myself to accepting that I felt bad for a while. I tried to focus on things that didn’t involve thinking or feeling, like watching the sun shine through the condensation on the window, making it sparkle like diaphanous silvery fabric. Then I moved into my schedule for the day, trying not to get hung up on the fact that I didn’t feel too hot. I was late for my dentist’s appointment, which made me feel even more grumpy. I found a park, but then had no money for the meter. The day seemed to be going down the gurgler. Then the dentist said he could still see me and found nothing major wrong with my teeth after years of not seeing him. I got back to my car to find I hadn’t got a ticket, then realised I had a free 50 minutes in my schedule to do whatever I liked. That lifted my mood a bit although it didn’t last.

My mood went up and down for the rest of the day, but by evening I was feeling pretty good. As I’d anticipated from previous experience, simply accepting how I felt, keeping active and not trying overly hard to feel better had done the trick. By the next day I was back to my normal happy self. Giving myself a break and not insisting on feeling happy all the time and driving myself to feel better had been just what I needed.

Finding a good therapist

Oh what a joy and a treasure is a good therapist! I was reminded of this when my dear friend Kirsten shared her tale of losing a good one and failing to find a replacement. It was particularly timely because I’d just the day before had a face to face session with my counsellor for the first time in months, and been reminded of what a wonderful, supportive person she is. (We normally do phone sessions.) My first impression of her four and a half years ago had not been promising. On the phone she had sounded cold and I know from experience that being fabulously insecure I do not do well with someone who is not warm and reassuring. But as soon as she walked into the waiting room and smiled hello at me I knew she was going to be great. (She had me from ‘hello’!) Her warmth, belief in me and good sense have helped me climb out of the dark valleys of despair into the bright light of joy. Whatever happens, whatever I do or say or reveal about myself, I feel that she is always on my side, always there for me. Goodness knows how many relapses she has helped me avoid by her steady presence and good counsel. She is a treasure beyond value.

But the road to finding her was not a smooth or easy one*. I’ve seen more counsellors, psychologists, psychiatrists and mental health professionals of every ilk than you can shake a stick at and some of them have not been helpful, to put it mildly. It took me a while to work out that therapists who were by nature cold actually made my depression worse. For a long time I believed that technical skills were paramount and personality was secondary. But then two cool and distant therapists actually pushed me over the edge at vulnerable times rather than helping me recover. Now I know that feeling liked and accepted is the most important therapeutic ingredient for me. But it’s different for each individual. One of the therapists who was so disastrous for me was just great for a friend of mine who is not insecure.

The key for me has been to keep learning what works for me, and to keep looking. There’s no guarantee that once you find someone good they’ll stay around. I once found a great counsellor who I made practically sign in blood to say she was settled in town long-term who then upped sticks and moved her whole family halfway up the country! But I kept looking and found another good one. Don’t let the not quite right for you ones put you off – a good therapist can be hugely helpful and is well worth searching for.

*to see more crazy road markings click on 'the road' in blue above

UPO sighting

That’s Unexpected Positive Occurrence for the uninitiated. The other day a great experience slipped into my life when I wasn’t expecting it. I was driving through a little town when I saw a sign saying ‘delicious hot muffins’. It struck my eye just as I realised I was feeling peckish so I pulled into the café carpark, unable (well, unwilling) to resist the lure. As directed by the sign I wandered across the gravel to the back of the brightly painted wooden house the café was located in, intent only on finding a warm muffin or scone.

What met my eyes when I rounded the corner of the house was a complete surprise. Stretched out behind it, hidden from the carpark by a wall, was a deliciously green and shady glade, lawns dappled with the sun that reached through the tall trees round its perimeter. A fountain pattered softly into a pond filled with orange fish. It was like stepping into the secret garden from the book. ‘Have a look around’ someone called and I turned towards the verandah at the back of the house where two middle aged women in aprons sat, having their morning tea before the lunchtime rush started. ‘It goes right back,’ one of them said. ‘There’s even an outdoor bath. The first time I used it I looked up to find two big black eyes looking at me – it was a beast from the paddock next door.” I laughed, entranced.

Feeling welcome I wandered off through the garden, finding new treasures every few steps. Early cheer were in bloom and I stooped to sniff their quiet scent, evocative of childhood. Next to them was an amazing flower that reminded me of a jellyfish – a primulus with a yellow centre from which indigo blue and white stripes radiated out. A thin black cat with enormous ears accompanied me, rubbing round my legs and making me feel even more welcome. I paused, suddenly realising that the scene stretching out in front of me was reflected back from an enormous mirror framed in ornate, flowery metal work. But beyond that more garden stretched, with the sensuous scent of daphne luring me on.

Finally I came back for the muffin I’d originally stopped for. The owner chatted as she served me. When she found I was on my way to Wellington she said ‘you must go to Te Papa,’ the museum. ‘I went there last time,’ I said, ‘to the Monet exhibition.’
‘Oh wasn’t it wonderful?!’ she exclaimed. ‘I went three times.’ We went on to rhapsodise about Monet and how each of his paintings evoked a different emotion in us.
‘Which was your favourite?’ she asked. I was just about to say ‘the haystack’ when she said ‘mine was the haystack’. Then we were off again.

I left with an olive, feta and zucchini muffin, warm from the oven, and a little container of tamarind chutney, both of which were delicious. But more importantly I left uplifted by the beauty of the garden, the warmth of the welcome and the pleasure of sharing my enjoyment of a wonderful painter. It just showed me that I never know when my life is about to be interrupted by a wonderful unexpected experience.