Psychological Toolkit

My parents believed their responsibility was not to tell my brother and I what to do, but rather give us as many skills and tools in our toolkit as possible, so that when we faced a difficult situation or decision, we had the resources to handle ourselves. The idea that firsthand experience far outweighs an abstract external rule in guiding behavior has proved remarkably effective, and I'm glad they took that approach because it taught us to think for ourselves and be (mostly) self-reliant people.

When it came to dealing with depression, I found my toolkit almost totally empty. To put it gently, my parents don't understand depression. They think it is something that lazy, overprivileged losers with too much time on their hands indulge in, and that if said losers would bootstrap a little and get over themselves, they'd be fine. I disagree, obviously, but I recognize how they came to these conclusions.

Because I lacked the resources, or even the words to articulate what was going on with me, I developed unhealthy coping mechanisms while my parents waited for me to "grow out of" depression. My mother recognized that I had always been moody, even as a toddler, and that I had more pronounced ups and downs than any other children she knew, but she believed it was just who I was and that I'd get over it with maturity and taking responsibility for myself.

I wouldn't change who I am or how I was made because among other habits, I started making art and writing, which give me more joy than I could ever imagine, and the times where I withdrew from others gave me the opportunity to study, learn, and discover. As long as I maintain a lifestyle that permits times of high activity and deep withdrawal, I've done alright and found my way.

What I find lately, though, is that this really doesn't work as an adult who wishes to maintain a job. Even in grad school, I'm able to become nocturnal for a few days, make a disaster of things, and still pull it together to finish projects and show up prepared for classes. As I'm working to finish my thesis and pursue a real (and pretty demanding) career path, I am encountering more and more challenges to the way I deal with life. This semester, I am scrambling to finish my thesis and graduate, and it's incredibly daunting. The stakes are really high (my summer job depends on having my master's), and I literally don't have time to fall off my game for even a few days, let alone a few weeks, while I wallow in depression and poor hygiene.

I sunk into a pretty deep depression over the holidays and for most of January. A lot of it was stress, finally having time for the gravity of the past few months' changes to weigh on my chest, more upsetting family stuff, and intense anxiety about this semester. What triggered it, though, seems so trite and stupid: I had my heart broken again. I don't need to dwell really - it was a situation of disappointed expectations, poor communication, and eventually a total freeze-out from someone who meant a lot to me.

Once again, I didn't have the resources to deal with it. Heartbroken depression is one of the worst kinds because it really does feel like wallowing. I withdrew from everyone else in my life, especially my parents, I stopped exercising (which caused a lot of strife with my mom because she is my swimming buddy), I ate terribly, I slept weird hours, I freaked out privately, and I kept telling myself that tomorrow, or the next day, I'd get it together and work on things.

I'm not sure what changed. Maybe wariness, or I finally slept the clock around and found myself awake during the day for once, but this week I decided it was time. I went swimming Tuesday and Wednesday, I started eating healthier meals, I talked to my mother about some of the things that have been upsetting me, I tried to reconnect with my father and brother, I've talked a little with friends (all of whom called me out and knew that I had disappeared for most of January), I made commitments to work projects, and I'm trying to deal with the things that I must.

Without realizing it, I followed the advice that I'd read in so many articles to the letter. Re-engaging in activities I enjoy, paying attention to the world outside of my own head, reemerging in society, increasing physical activity and healthy diet, etc.

After the storm had passed (or I resurfaced, or whatever metaphor you'd like), I reread an article on Helping Yourself Out of Depression which I've linked here before. I tried to track down Dan Bilsker's self-care guide for depression mentioned in the article, and I found a pretty great resource: The Antidepressant Skills Workbook. That guide is also available as an audiobook or PDF, but I like the website format.

The thing that struck me most was the idea that I don't always have to have cycles of depression. All these years, I've kind of accepted it as part of who I am, as something I'll just deal with when it comes. But this guide (which I have not yet read in full) suggests that the inevitability of depression relapse is a myth. I could not only learn to better cope with depression, but I could stop experiencing it altogether. That would be a great skill to add to my psychological toolkit, for sure.

I'm going to work on this, the same way I would with a new diet or exercise regime. I need to gather resources and build my skills so that depression doesn't take over my life so much. I have to not only work to pull out of it, but to avoid letting it take hold in the first place. I'm actually fascinated to see if it really is a pattern in which I indulge, and if it's as simple as deciding not to do that anymore.

Numbers Game

It is starting to slowly click in my head that losing weight is a numbers game. I hate numbers, but here they are.



To lose 1 pound of fat, a person must burn 3500 calories more than they've taken in.

To lose a pound a week, this translates to 500 calories per day, which can be broken down into whatever combination of diet and exercise desired (e.g. 250 calories more exercise and 250 calories less food... or 500 calories more exercise, eating the same).

If I weigh 185 pounds right now (this is an estimate - I haven't weighed myself in a few days), and I want to weigh 120, I must lose 65 pounds, which is 227,500 calories.

That is a lot of calories.

To do this with exercise alone, I'd have to burn 500 extra calories every day. Given that most of my work-outs average around 400-450, this isn't totally impossible... but I haven't been exercising 7 days (or times) a week.

I also haven't exactly been going easy on the food and drink, which will definitely slow this whole process.

Assuming I am actually able to lose a pound a week (with redoubled efforts), then it would take me 65 weeks to meet my goal. That is 16 months, 1 week, if there were no failures or slip-ups. More than a year.

I've read in many places that it is unwise to try to lose more than 30 pounds at a time, so I am trying to lose all the weight that I want to in two installments: lose 30, maintain, lose another 30.



To be honest, I would be pretty happy to weigh 155 pounds, but to have a healthy BMI at 5'4", I should be somewhere in the 110-140 range. If I weigh 120, my BMI would be 20.5. Calculating my current BMI was scary, since I am once again obese at 31.8.

It's been so long since I weighed 120 pounds that I can't even imagine what it would look like, but I intend to stick at this diet and exercise thing until I see. This is going to be a very long road, but I know that I need to make major life changes if I want to be healthy.

Losing weight isn't a mystical process or something for which I must be morally superior to others: it is a practice of crunching the numbers and coming up with a net loss of 500 calories (or more) per day.