I have a plan.

For every bad thing that happens, I’m trying to counteract it with at least two good things. This is a huge step for me, as usually when I’m feeling down I hide myself away with my cats and chain-play Settlers of Catan online (yeah, the graphics are pretty shocking, but the game itself is addictive). This time, I’ve planned a LOT of good stuff with some of my favourite people, booked quite a bit of time off work, and filled in the gaps with little treats like long Lush baths with trashy magazines, plenty of Mario Kart (my 10 year old self would be so proud), happy music and Peep Show.

(Side note: This post is peppered with photos from the last couple of weekends of me doing fun and happy stuff in between even more bad things happening).

Happy smiles before a friend’s wedding a couple of weekends ago.

I’ve also been reading up on lots of stuff about happiness. Recently I’ve been in an intensely pensive phase, spending a lot of time thinking and analysing. In many ways it’s provided a lot of much needed clarity. I’m also in a position where I feel slightly better talking about stuff. It’s not that hard to say ‘Yeah, I had a bad night last night’ to friends; nowhere near as scary as I thought it would be anyway. I think my brain was working on past experiences of trying to talk to my family about it and them not listening or caring. The reality is that my friends care about me much more. And I’m not a weak person, or a victim. Just a person who always gives everything, and often gives a little too much.

I also had an intense conversation with Joe about triggers. One of the hardest things about trying to deal with my issues is that someone can make a throwaway comment or tell me some news and it will trigger a depressive episode for me. There is no kind of preparation for that at all, and I’ve often tried to unsuccessfully find some logic behind it. For example, Joe telling me his dad had been diagnosed with cancer didn’t trigger my depression, even though he just kind of blurted it out in the supermarket with no warning. On the other hand, sometimes even just leaving after seeing a friend can leave me feeling unnaturally down for a while. I originally thought that it might purely be based on brain chemicals and possibly environmental factors (I know lack of sleep and not eating properly make me more prone to episodes). But now I think there’s more to it than that; it seems to be that if the comment or event ties into a previous massive area of stress in my life (for example I’m carrying around a lot of work-based baggage from previous jobs and things like separation anxiety from a somewhat turbulent childhood), then it’s likely to trigger a depressive episode.

Unfortunately that doesn’t really help in two ways 1) it’s often not something I can control, and even when I *know* something is going to happen – for example going home after a night out – it doesn’t mean that it won’t affect me. It might or it might not – perhaps that’s where the other factors kick in. 2) I’m still figuring out what the ‘massive areas of stress’ in my life have been. Some of them are pretty obvious, but part of the challenge is working out where things tie into other things, because I’m apparently operating all this stuff at an extremely subconscious level.

Models displayed at the conference – mad skills

One thing I find really interesting is a comment that someone made at work. He said that I treat all tasks as having the same importance, even when they don’t (FYI: From my perspective, I see it more as everything is important. Everything has to be done well. Everything has to be as good as it can be). When I apply it to other areas of my life, I think this in part is one of the reasons why I can’t cope with little bad things happening in my life generally, because sometimes they seem to be just as big as genuinely bad things. Or perhaps it’s because seemingly small things can tie into huge things that everyone, including me, is generally unaware of until it’s too late. Weirdly enough I seem to be able to cope with actual traumatic life events a lot better – perhaps it’s because I feel like they are justifiably bad things that ‘normal’ people would find tough to deal with, I don’t know.

Last weekend: a relaxing and impromptu trip to the beach.

Part of my struggle is that I don’t feel like my depression is justified. It’s not like I’ve had horrendous life events happen to me. Even though I’ve had difficult times, I know I’ve also been extremely lucky. I know a lot of people in my situation and with my life – depression aside – would be more than happy. And that makes it harder, because at the back of my mind a small voice is saying, ‘You’ve got nothing to complain about. Not really.’ Even though I know that a lot of this stuff is based on genetics, the type of person you are and traits you have, and, to me anyway, a complete lack of logic, I still can’t really get over the feeling that my bad states of mind aren’t really justified. To me. Not even to other people, but my own self. The internal struggles I go through on a regular basis are always worse than any other judgement by any other person.

I came across this article a few days ago. It makes a lot of sense to me and led to some pretty big breakthroughs, even if most people would dub it pop psychology. Anything that helps me to figure myself out or think in a different way is useful.

“I have recently conducted research that offers insight into why many people end up unhappy rather than pleased when their options expand. We began by making a distinction between “maximizers” (those who always aim to make the best possible choice) and “satisficers” (those who aim for “good enough,” whether or not better selections might be out there).”

Naturally, I am a maximiser.

It makes sense really – humans are genetically predisposed to coping with lack of choice (and necessities). That’s how the human race has survived. More options, even though they’ve grown century on century, work against our basic survival programming and instincts to some extent.

The conference I went to on Friday was held at a theatre/performance type of venue. Through the back entrance (we were setting up a stall), there are four doors into the main seating area. All the doors are identical and positioned in a row, and, to my mind anyway, the same distance apart from each other. I knew that all the doors lead into exactly the same place; presumably they’re for crowd control more than anything. There was no difference between them at all in any way. Yet I found myself hesitating over which door would be the best option.

When faced with four identical options, my brain still assumed that there must be a superior choice.

I didn’t actually take a picture of the doors, but this is what was just on the other side. A sea of choices. Or maybe just lots of chairs. You decide.

This is a perfect example of how I am and how I react, even if I’m only just realising it. The door experience was such a great one because it illustrates the problem in the context of a very simple situation that required a decision. Sadly my decisions are usually much more complex scenarios involving various people and actions and all kinds of other difficult things which are often too complex to unravel and think about much at this point.

Because I’m rarely satisfied with the results of my decisions, I’ve stopped making decisions. Because I feel messed up, I tell myself that I really shouldn’t make any important decisions, because I’ll make the wrong one and seriously regret it. This is making life even more complicated in the long term.

Glow stick joy at the conference.

“Naturally, no one can check out every option, but maximizers strive toward that goal, and so making a decision becomes increasingly daunting as the number of choices rises. Worse, after making a selection, they are nagged by the alternatives they have not had time to investigate. In the end, they are more likely to make better objective choices than satisficers but get less satisfaction from them. When reality requires maximizers to compromise–to end a search and decide on something–apprehension about what might have been takes over.”

I think ‘apprenhensive’ is the wrong word here for me. I’m more likely to complain, or try another option, rather than worry or be concerned; I guess this is a more active approach generally. However, I’m also more passive in some respects – I will tell someone to make a decision for me, or wait until the number of options has been diminished by time or factors that other people introduce. I hate making decisions in most areas of my life, and often I will try to avoid it. (Weirdly enough though, that’s one thing I don’t tend to have a problem with work-wise. If anything, I can be a bit too forceful with my decisions because I’m convinced I’m right).

“When we say an experience was good, what we mean, in part, is that it was better than we expected it to be. High expectations almost guarantee that experiences will fall short, especially for maximizers and especially when regret, opportunity costs and adaptation do not factor into our expectations.”

This is something I experience pretty regularly, and I know it frustrates the people around me just as much, if not more, than it frustrates me.

“The research that my colleagues and I have done suggests that maximizers are prime candidates for depression…If the experience of disappointment is relentless, if virtually every choice you make fails to live up to expectations and aspirations, and if you consistently take personal responsibility for the disappointments, then the trivial looms larger and larger, and the conclusion that you cannot do anything right becomes devastating.”

“We found as well that the greatest maximizers are the least happy with the fruits of their efforts. When they compare themselves with others, they get little pleasure from finding out that they did better and substantial dissatisfaction from finding out that they did worse.”

Both of these describe me pretty damn accurately. But you know what? It’s not depressing. It’s a sense of realisation and clarity and the fact that someone has managed to put an important bit of who I am into words and understanding and enlightment for me when I was incapable of doing it myself.

It’s quite strange to me that I’m still learning so much about myself at 25.

(As always, there are plenty more photos – you can view them here).