Reverse Engineering Hope
“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”
Hamlet by William Shakespeare
What if every horrible thing that happens to us in life has a silver lining? Is it possible? Some traumas are so horrific, so abusive–how could we ever find the benefit that such an experience could have? Even if the bottom-line exchange is reaching out to another that has experienced a similar trauma–the result could be lifesaving. There could be a positive hidden deep down in the negative.
I will take myself as an example–because I have been struggling lately with accepting that, although my heart has rebounded impressively after my heart attack four years ago, my brain has not. I recently went to a hospital here in Copenhagen that specializes in brain injuries. I had a wonderful conversation with a neurologist that specializes in my kind of brain injury–a hypoxic (lack of oxygen) brain injury after a heart stoppage. She described all of the things that people that sustain this brain injury can experience, and I knew each one excruciatingly well. It was incredibly validating. I felt seen, heard, and understood. I walked away feeling better–and nothing had changed except my perspective. Acceptance was working its magic on me.
Later in the week, I had a psych evaluation that was not a good experience. Going over all the feelings I have been experiencing (for two hours!) was exhausting and depressing. I left with an official diagnosis of clinical depression (how depressing!). I went home and collapsed for the rest of the day, unable to even focus on a movie to take my mind off things. I was in a vicious downward spiral.
What’s at stake is my ability to make a living and care for my family. Any brain injury is exhausting–the extra effort to try and perform alongside the rest of the world takes immense concentration, and is ultimately doomed to failure. For me, there are unpredictable memory issues, a lack of ability to multitask, a lack of energy (especially after 1:00 pm each day), and depression, among other symptoms. At my worst I struggle to believe there is a place for me in this world–and that is exactly where I was after my psych evaluation.
A number of friends tried to pull me out of my hole by telling me that I am more than a psych evaluation, and it was a lot of negativity to be swimming around in for two hours. That’s true, but it didn’t make me feel much better. Then I remembered the unifying theme of the recovery world: acceptance. Although I had accepted a lot of things post-heart attack, my altered brain was not among them. The forgetfulness, the fatigue, the powerlessness–it all made me angry. Being so frustrated at times blocked me from being able to wholeheartedly accept how things are now. Even people’s attempts at reassuring me that my brain wasn’t that bad, and that they also experienced lapses in memory, irritated me. I felt like it undercut my experience of loss. In a very low place, this idea of acceptance crept into my ears in various ways. I realized that I had a huge thing going for me–experience! I had started off feeling very much “the victim” of my heart attack, and miraculously experienced this journey to today where I see the experience in a purely positive light. Could it be possible to reverse-engineer hope by accepting these areas of difficulty with my cognitive function, observing them non-judgmentally, and finding in them a grain of positivity that might grow into hope and a new experience?
For instance, while my memory issues can be very frustrating, I also forget many negative experiences. At least they aren’t present in my mind. I also forget to be angry, even if I try. It’s hard to hold on to. That’s a good thing. It’s been more challenging to find something positive in my fear of financial insecurity–but maybe the positive lesson there is that–despite many hardships surrounding money–here I am. And here my family is. We have survived. I have this fear that my brain will get worse and worse–and that I will end up like my Mom and Dad–who had severe dementia at the end of their lives. I’m afraid frustration and anger will consume me, that I will become too difficult to be around, and that I will end up alone. I don’t want to be a burden, and I don’t want my partner to have to do all this extra work of reminding me of things, and I certainly don’t want to make her life miserable. The truth is that this experience has drawn us even closer together. I have to humbly accept her help (not easy!) and she lovingly gives it. I have to trust that she wants to stick by my side—if I just do the best I can.
Reverse engineering hope is a process, and I have to keep at it. It is a daily meditation on how to approach my life. When the frustration and anger come, I have to pause, observe what’s going on, and accept it. I have to remind myself of the positive in this experience, and let it grow. The process itself is a gift.
Is there a grain of positivity somewhere within a trauma or negative experience in your life? Try to let it grow. It may be the only healthy way forward.
Until next time
Scott and Lennart