non sic dormit, sed vigilat

August, 23 2007

The Doctor mimics using her left hand to pull her hair.

D: You're doing this. Stress.

M: I have to make a decision today. It's unpleasant.

D: Okay.

M: A few months ago my grandmother passed away.

D: I remember.

M: That was my mom's mom. And earlier this week my dad's mom passed away. Her funeral is in two hours.

D: Tell me what the "unpleasant" decision is that you might make.

M: I think I might not go to the funeral. I'm not sure yet. I don't know what to do.

D: With the other grandmother, you attended that funeral.

M: Yes. I've had no difficulties with that side of the family. They're rednecks. They keep to themselves and leave me alone.

D: And this other side; your dad's side...

M: Normalcy-addicts. Suburb-dwelling Happy People. They're all investment bankers, lawyers, administrators...

D: Okay. I'm trying to think back and I'm remembering a few things now. This side of the family has given you a hard time about your differences. And you've mentioned this grandmother before. She was unpleasant towards you.

M: She liked to give me shit. She liked to embarrass me in front of others. She was one of those people who thought insults were the best way to correct unwanted behavior. If she saw something she didn't like in a person, she would tease them mercilessly, and I think in her mind, that was a legitimate, valid response to traits she didn't like. It's twisted, but I think she viewed teasing people as a way to help them.

D: What did she tease you about?

M: As I grew up, the ways that I was different evolved, so there seemed to be a new thing each year that she would focus on. I was an awkward kid, so there was never a shortage of targets. There was one thing she would go back to, though, it was sort of her pet insult. I can't remember the word...she liked to make fun of the way I carry myself. Like, physically, the way that I move.

D: Your gait.

M: Right, gait. It's one thing that's never really improved, so she would always target that.

D: Any differences with your gait are subtle. That she would would focus on that...

She pauses, breathes out.

D: I guess I'm supposed to feel sad that she passed away, but I'm just feeling...like at this particular moment....I'm just feeling angry. Gait...you cannot tease someone for that.

M: It was always striking to me that she would focus on things I was already self-conscious about. When I was in junior high, it did not escape my attention that boys began to walk a certain way...they began to carry themselves a little differently; obviously conforming to standards of masculinity. And I couldn't pull it off. My arms, they just hang there, they don't cooperate...so I was very frustrated by this. And when she would bring it up, it just confirmed in my mind that this was a real problem. Her intention was to change me, to use her words as a corrective, but it just made me feel like shit. So it was weird, to me, that she had this radar for my differences, she could really zero in on them in a way my parents, or other family members, never could.

D: What do you mean?

M: My parents, I don't think they could really pin-point the ways I was different. They were never very insightful about what was happening with me. Also, they're just fundamentally nice people. They would see things, maybe something different about my gait...certainly the social difficulties...but just ignore it, basically. They didn't know what to say, so they said nothing. My grandmother, though, she was perceptive...always watching for differences, always pushing back against them. More than any other family member, she was aware of my differences, and in a very specific way.

It's quiet for a bit.

M: Gait, she liked to go on about that. Then, from college on, she focused exclusively on the fact that I wasn't dating. No reason to go into details about that, pretty obvious what her statements were like. But that was all she would talk about, year after year...I guess hoping she could tease me into being socially adept. Or Something. I don't really know what she was thinking, I guess she just couldn't turn it off. I think I've mentioned, she raised 11 kids...and I guess if you implement a certain parenting strategy, it kind of gels and becomes your default reaction to the world. She just denigrates anything and everything that is different; it's how she shaped those around her. And she had no off button for it, that was just her thing.

D: I have to ask, how do your other family members react to her? Do they find her to be harsh, cruel?

M: No, they adore her. She basically says what everyone else is thinking. Everyone on that side of the family is hostile towards difference, but for the most part, they're like my parents: polite, outwardly nice. So I think they get a kick out of it when she says stuff. It's like, "Glad somebody said it!" Also, I think most people think it's funny when an elderly woman is verbally abrasive. Grandmas are supposed to be sweet and kindly and nurturing. So when they say something shocking or rude...it makes people laugh. That's the most common reaction to her statements: people crack up. "Oh, that grandmother. There she goes again."

D: I'm going to ask this because your family strikes me as being very conservative, traditional.

M: Right.

D: Do you think she or anyone else in your family questioned your sexuality?

M: Oh, definitely. I think from high school on they were "concerned".

D: Have they just asked you? Directly?

M: Yeah, a few times. I've had cousins ask me. My brother doesn't ask, he just periodically calls me a "fag". I've never minded any of that, because...I don't know, what can you do? I know I like women...think about women constantly. But I also know that if you don't act a certain way...conduct yourself a certain way, meet certain expectations...people will just make assumptions like that.

D: Did your grandmother every say anything?

M: No. I think there's a generational difference about that. As rude as she could be, I don't think she would ever say anything or imply anything about my sexuality. Today, you can use the word "gay", say it, but I never had the sense that that was a tool in her tool box. That was probably off-limits even for her...again, because of the generational thing.

D: Okay.

It's quiet.

D: Let's talk about the decision. You're considering not going to the funeral. Would you avoid it just to stay away from that side of the family?

M: It's a little more than that. I've always had a hard time being around them. Particularly after college, when I became depressed. The way they would question me about my life, make judgements...it was hard to be around that. It's an awful thing to feel disappointed in yourself...it's awful to try to improve yourself and to fail. You know, to be in your 20's and to be alone and low-income and struggling with every facet of your life...and then to hear from these people, "M, are you dating yet? Working a better job yet?" I never knew how to convey to them that their disappointment wasn't necessary. I wanted to tell them, "I've got that whole disappointment thing covered, thanks."

I pause, think about how to word the next part.

M: And then, because of the marionette...because of how distant and fucked up I felt around people generally...I started to think about killing myself. I realized that there was a pretty good chance that I would do it. I felt ready. And what I did was, over a period of five or six years, I put a plan into motion. I began to cut ties with family and friends. I stopped talking to people, began to avoid interactions.

D: Preparing them for your suicide.

M: Right. And that took some doing, my family is really close. My dad has ten siblings, and they all popped out an ungodly number of children. I can't even count the number of cousins I have. And the family, they get together constantly, for cookouts, holidays, reunions. They're fucking extroverted, these people, insanely so. Anyway, when I began to seriously consider suicide, I thought it was time to definitively cut ties. They made me uncomfortable anyway...and I knew what I might do to myself. So as part of a plan, I ignored phone calls, e-mails. I attended zero get-togethers. I started to spend holidays alone. I was in my early 20's and I thought that if I isolated for five years or so, it might make things easier when I did eventually die.

D: I'm trying to recall...during our first session, I asked you about that, I think. About the social isolation. I was concerned that it was intentional. Part of a plan. If I remember correctly, I asked you if you had a plan. And I asked if you were in the process of enacting it. You didn't really answer.

M: I thought you knew. I thought you could tell.

D: My sense was that it was a very real possibility. That was a scary session.

M: So...I don't know what to do now, Doctor. My grandmother passed away...the funeral is in two hours. And in-itself, the problem is not that I have to see this side of the family. The problem is that...I'll have to see people I never thought I would see again. I very carefully and very fully damaged certain relationships. And it never occurred to me that I would be in a situation like this. I don't know how to re-enter the world. I don't know how to interact with people I had cut ties with. I guess it's just now hitting me that I have to contend with...you know? Not just living, but with the consequences of having not died. If that makes any sense. I don't know if it makes sense.

D: It makes sense, M. You said "re-enter the world" and I think that's a great way to put it. That's very much what is happening here. And as you do that...as you and I have this conversation, and you begin to piece together a new life...you're going to have to decide...how much of your old life do you incorporate into the new one? That's what hit you this week...you're emerging out of this long stretch of depression, isolation...and you're realizing that the old life is still there, embodied in your family, your old friends. So now you have to begin sorting through all of that, deciding how to co-exist with all of these fragments of the past.

I don't say anything.

D: Re-entering the world. I want you to keep that phrase in your mind, okay?

I nod.

D: Depression is complex. It's not a feeling. It's not a sensation. It's an entire reality...a sort of artificial world. And what it does, is, it slowly takes the place of the real world. When someone is depressed...and I'm talking about severe, clinical depression...the person doesn't realize that they are now living in this false reality. It's a reality that is dark and bleak and hopeless. Someone living there looks around at the world and they can see absolutely no reason to live, no possibility of change. It's a world of absolutes: "things are awful and they will never change." I find depression to be frightening because you can see someone living in this false world...and they're right there in front of you, yet you can't communicate with them. They're so locked into this reality, that they can't really hear you or absorb your words. When I tell a depressed person that things can be different, do you know what the most common reaction is?

M: I assume they laugh at you.

D: That's exactly right. They laugh. You've laughed at me, right?

M: Sometimes.

D: That world is so bleak, even the suggestion that things can be different sounds ridiculous. So what I'm hearing today is that you're sort of caught between these two realities. You're confronting the real world...and it feels strange, because you didn't expect to be back here. To me, it's an indication that you're leaving the depressive world, at least a little bit. Even though it's uncomfortable...I like it. I like that you're having this awareness.

M: You're not going to call it progress are you?

D: Oh yes. Big time.

M: I mean, I'm stuck with family that I don't know how to interact with. Doesn't feel like progress. Just seems like I'm running into old problems.

D: True, but problems that exist in the real wold. Where you belong. Where I want you to be. It's going to be messy and difficult for awhile...and we'll sort through all of that, find ways to deal with it...but you're here. Now we can work on building a life that you do want. The past: you don't want that. Depression: you're moving away from it. We know what you don't want. Now we start to piece together what you do want.

M: My past, I definitely don't want that. Even though it's nonsensical to feel that way...the past is there, part of me...I don't really want it. So to me, it just means I want to continue to stay away from my family. I guess I feel pretty strongly that I don't want to see them today.

D: Your plan is to skip the funeral?

M: Yes.

She nods.

D: Okay.