How many of us have heard that we need to “think happy”?
This
well-meaning idealism may come form a nice place. But it’s got to stop.
At best it is
misleading when being said to those of us with bipolar and cyclothymia. And at worst it’s dangerous bullshit that makes a bad situation worse.
Here’s where I think it comes from.
Research
into how our minds work have stumbled across a fancy notion –
neuroplasticity. The layman-friendly idea is that you can change your
brain simply by thinking.
As often happens with breakthroughs,
this simplification gets taken outside its context. Sure, thinking
happy thoughts can improve moods. But it doesn’t mean that this is a
cure-all.
But people want simple.
They want easy. They want
something they can understand. They don’t want to spend time researching
bipolar disorder and cyclothymia. They don’t understand how important
it is for those of us living with it.
It’s not lazyness. It’s just a lack of information.
So they use the details they have to try and make what they think is a positive impact. They preach what they can understand, not realising its potential impact.
Here’s why it’s misleading.
Mindfulness
and cognitive behavioral therapy can help people. They can allow
practitioners to alter their mood by altering their thinking. From
experience, these practices deliver insight into moods and thought
patterns. And this lets me prepare in advance and react more
appropriately during a recognised up or down phase.
The practice of “thinking happy” sort of falls into this category.
But
my bipolaroid brain doesn’t always follow
the prescribes path as dictated by external and internal stimuli.
So I
can have insight. I can have control over my reactions. But these practices do not deliver a means to
control the mood itself. Meaning that for me, “thinking happy” just
doesn’t work in practice.
Hell, if we could think ourselves happy,
wouldn’t we?
Here’s why it’s dangerous bullshit.
If
I’m down, and I’m told to “think happy", it makes me feel helpless.
I
can try it. It doesn’t work. And that clear failure becomes just another
weight dragging me down. It also opens up a gap in understanding.
Suddenly, the well-wisher isn’t a bright face swimming in the dark seas offering help.
They’re yelling out “just don’t drown” from a passing yacht.
And that’s just insultingly unhelpful.
Why?
Because like many with this condition, I work for my happiness. I
stress and I measure and I build routines. I do yoga and meditate and
eat right and go above and beyond what I see others doing in the pursuit
of happiness.
I fight for my happiness every day. Every second.
That’s why
this well-wisher gets lumped in the “dangerous bullshit” category.
Standing there with a sympathetic smile telling me that I can just
“think happy” is bordering on insulting. And that’s not something that
someone in my position needs.
Not that they know that. They don’t have to live like this.
Drowning isn’t normal. Yachts are normal.
So, what can we do?
Educate.
Talk them through the thought patterns. When you can.
Explain the actual work that
goes into becoming someone who can function as well as we can.
Try to make them understand the obstacles in our way.
Bring them into your world using analogies, and make them a champion of your daily struggle with thinking happy.
Maybe it will stick, maybe not.
But their involvement can be part of our happiness – if we can just get through to them.