Emotional Castaways

By Wray Herbert
http://www.newsweek.com/id/81229/page/1

In the 2000 film "Cast Away," Tom Hanks plays an obsessive, clock-watching businessman, Chuck Noland, who by a twist of fate finds himself stranded on an isolated Pacific island. Noland copes with his four years of social disconnection and loneliness in part by befriending a volleyball, which he names Wilson. He jokes with Wilson and confides in Wilson and mistreats Wilson, and at one point he even kicks his companion out of their cave like an angry spouse. When he finally and irretrievably loses his volleyball to the ocean currents, he cries, "I'm sorry, Wilson!"

We've all had fantasies about living alone on a tropical island, far from the din and pressure of modern life. But we should watch what we wish for, because in fact most of us would fare poorly in such isolated conditions. This has been shown time and again: people who live lonely and disconnected lives, even smack in the middle of a modern metropolis, are more depressed, more suicidal and have more physical illnesses than the rest of us. Such longing is especially poignant at holiday time. The lonely are in effect emotional castaways.

And how do emotional castaways cope? What cognitive tools do we have to salve the pain of loneliness? Psychologists are very interested in this question, and one emerging theory is that we do precisely what Chuck Noland knew intuitively to do. We "invent" people to keep us company, humanizing anything we can humanize—pets, supernatural beings, possibly even something as unlikely as a volleyball.

A team of psychologists recently decided to explore the "volleyball hypothesis" in the laboratory. Nicholas Epley, Adam Waytz and John Cacioppo of the University of Chicago and Scott Akalis of Harvard ran three different studies on the link between loneliness and anthropomorphism—the tendency to give human traits to nonhuman things like terriers and alarm clocks. Their findings shed some new light not only on human coping but on the unfortunate human tendency to dehumanize strangers.

The psychologists began by sorting out people who consider themselves chronically lonely from those who feel they are well connected with friends and family. In the first study, they introduced both the lonely and the connected to a few technological gadgets: For example, "Clocky" is a wheeled alarm clock that you must chase around the room in order to stop its ringing. "Pillow mate" is a torso-shaped pillow that can be programmed to give hugs.

Participants then rated each gadget on such traits as: "has a mind of its own" and "exercises free will" and "experiences emotions." They also rated each on nonhuman traits like efficiency and attractiveness.

The results were interesting but open to interpretation. Lonely people were much more likely than connected people to believe that pillows have emotions and clocks have intentions and schemes. But it could well be that people with pet clocks end up alone, rather than the other way around. So the scientists decided to look at loneliness a different way, and at the same time to broaden the study to include beliefs in the supernatural.

In the next study, the psychologists actually induced feelings of loneliness and disconnection in the lab. They tricked the college-age subjects into thinking they were taking a personality test, and then further deceived them into thinking a computer could make accurate life predictions for them based on their personality type. So some were basically made to believe that they would end up living lives of social isolation, while others learned that they would have lives full of rich social connection. Then the psychologists interviewed the participants to gauge their beliefs in God, the Devil, angels, ghosts, miracles and so forth.

The findings were clear. Those facing a life of loneliness were more apt to believe in supernatural agents of all kinds. As the authors write in the journal Psychological Science, loneliness doesn't turn atheists into fundamentalists, but it does appear to nudge people toward believing in various incarnations, some darker than others. Even bad company is company, it appears, and better than being alone.
Not surprisingly, the psychologists found the same pattern with pets. That is, people who were made to feel lonely were more likely to humanize their dogs and cats and hamsters than were people who feel well loved.

Is this a good thing or a bad thing? It depends on how you look at it. Clearly, humanizing Old Shep or an old baseball glove is a bit bizarre, yet it does appear to truly help some extremely isolated souls cope with their condition. On the other hand, the psychologists say, it's quite possible that some people are actually substituting such relationships for true human connection, perhaps because people are too threatening.

There is a more unsettling possibility, as well. If the human mind is wired to make lonely people hunger for connection, as these studies show, then the inverse is probably also true. That is, people who are not lonely, who are secure in their circle of friends and family, may be more likely to dehumanize strangers; they have no motivation to make further connections. So perhaps it's not entirely fanciful for an emotional castaway to befriend a volleyball, but for most of us the greater risk may be treating real flesh-and-blood humans as playthings.


I know, I know, I know! You can be quiet now....

Thought for the day

Reflect upon your present blessings, of which every man has many - not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.
- Charles Dickens

I needed something really BIG to cheer me up…

I made a decision last night to put the money that Grandma had sent me to a different use. As she put it, she had some extra money, and wanted me to have it. She suggested that I get some needed work done on my care… but the more I thought about it, the more that sounded like something I didn’t want to do. I put in savings until I either decided what I was going to do with it, or needed it.

Earlier this week I got a call for my mortgage company; they are offering to refinance both my first and second mortgages, which will signifcantly lower my payment. Because of this, and just to help save my sanity, I have a maid service coming Tuesday afternoon to get my condo ready for the appraisal. Lately I’ve been overwhelmed with the simplest of chores, and I was thinking of doing this just to help save my sanity, but now I have a legitimate reason to spend the money (it’s actually very reasonable…).

Now, on to the point of this story… I traded in my car & got the one I’ve been dreaming about for years!!! I used Grandma’s money as the down payment, and drove it off the lot this morning before work.

She’s a 2007 Subaru Outback, green with gray side molding, tan and black interior. She has approximately 18000 miles on her, still has the manufacturers warranty. She fully loaded: Power door locks, power windows, alloy wheels, trip odometer,
air conditioning, tilt steering wheel, cruise control, rear defroster, console, body side moldings, center arm rest, power driver's seat, CD player, AM/FM radio, bucket seats, anti-lock brakes, power mirrors, spoiler, roof luggage rack, heated seats, rear wiper, cloth seats, digital dash, 5 passenger seating, warranty,
rear shoulder harness, fog/driving lamps, lumbar support, split fold-down seat, manual shift mode (yes, I did cut & paste that from the dealer website). Besides what they have advertised, it has heated side mirrors and windshield, inside/outside thermometer (digital display on dash), MP3 hook-up, duel climate control, and a whole lot more that I can’t think of right now.

I know what you’re thinking, you’re concerned about my financial status, but I’d like to put this in perspective for you. To give you an idea of my state of mind lately… I was sitting in the dealership this morning and Lee called me, he wanted to check and see how everything was, and let me know that he was calling because one of my friends had left him a message stating that she was afraid I was going to hurt myself. She had gotten this impression because I of the state I was in yesterday, and the fact that I kind of said I don’t want to live anymore. Let me assure you, I would never hurt myself, I have told you this many, many times before, and I promise you this is the truth. But I have been at a very low point recently, I’m very lonely, and I miss you soooo much.

My decision to trade in my car for something I truly wanted, and really is a good investment, was partially driven by the need DO SOMETHING that would make a major impact on my emotional state. So please support me in my decision, and be happy for me, because I haven’t felt this good in a long time.

Grandma’s okay

I spoke with her this afternoon. She had just got home from the hospital, and was going to bed. She sound like she was in good spirits. I’ll keep you updated as I learn more…

Freaking out!!!

Earlier today I tried calling Grandma, but I only got her answering machine. I left a message that I was calling to check what the doctor had said, and if she was going to have her surgery...

Tonight I checked my home email (which I've only been doing about once a week) and found the following message from my aunt:

Jennifer I'm so sorry to have left you off the previous emails. This was yesterday:
I got a call this morning, 12/12/2007, around 6:30 am from St. Mary's ER. Mom called 911 with shortness of breath and throwing up blood. In the ER they put a tube down her nose into her stomach to drain out the blood, then moved her up to a step down ICU where she was scoped at noon. The doctor said she had an ulcer in her stomach and one in her small intestine. They were already healing and he has put her on meds to help them heal. She will be in the hospital overnight, released probably tomorrow evening. The doctor said it was probably due to ibuprofen. I have been rescheduling her pre-op appts, since they were for tomorrow, and with luck she will still have back surgery on the 18th. Not a real major thing, and so far, knock on wood, none of the doctor think it will keep her from the surgery. Her saw her doctor yesterday(Jerry took her) and he said she was fine to have the surgery. Anyway, will keep you posted.
Love, Becky

The next read:
Well, she will remain in the hospital tonight, and the surgery on the 18th has been canceled. Dr. Clifford, back guy, wants her to be healed and blood back to normal before he operates, after the first of the year. She is being keep today and tonight because her blood count is low. I was over at her house and listened to the messages, here are some phone numbers:
Becky..970-***-**** (deleted to maitain my family's privacy)
Deborah...970-***-****
Jerry Bob...505-***-***, cell 505-***-****
St. Mary's Hospital...970-***-****, room ***
She is doing very well, but ready to come home. Do not know what they will give her for the back pain. There is nothing anyone can do at this point and really nothing when she comes home. Just hope she is not a "BEAR" until the surgery. Will let you know if anything comes up or changes. Love, Becky

The last message was a new phone number to call grandma at the hospital...

So of course now I'm really freaking out. I'm feeling guilty because I didn't call earlier in the week. I'm wondering if I need to drive out there tomorrow. I feel like a terrible granddaughter because I haven't been very attentive to her lately due to my own issues that I'm currently dealing with. Here comes the guilt again...

I just spoke with both of my uncles - they both say she is doing fine & there really isn't any need to come out. She's supose to be home tomorrow, so I will call & see if she needs me...

God I hate being out here on my own & out of the loop!

Because I couldn't say it on the phone

By Heather B Armstrong
www.dooce.com
Thursday, December 13 2007
I was recently at lunch with a few friends, one who had just been diagnosed with OCD that manifests itself in a need to straighten up everything around her, and I was all really? That's considered OCD? Because I thought that was just considered BEING ALIVE. And because she hasn't ever read this website she asked if I had ever been treated for a diagnosis abbreviated with capital letters. I looked across the table at my other friend, someone who is very familiar with what I have written here, and she almost gagged on an ice cube. I nodded and then explained that I'm in ongoing therapy for what's called C-R-A-Z-Y.

I feel like I need to say something today, right now, about my feelings toward therapy and medication, because in the last couple of months I've watched several people around me suffer needlessly because they were either too afraid or too arrogant to take care of their mental health. And I guess I'm trying to understand why anyone would resist trying to work through an issue that is making their life miserable, and that maybe if I came out and talked about what I have been through and how I feel about what I've been through, that someone may feel a little less embarrassed about getting help.

I suffer from chronic anxiety and depression, and I believe it started manifesting itself when I was in high school, maybe earlier. I didn't seek treatment, however, until my sophomore year in college when I was on the brink of dropping out, when I finally called my father and exposed a very dark side of me, explained that I did not have the ability to cope no matter how hard I prayed or tried to get over it. My mother had always sensed this about me, had watched bi-polar disorder wreck the lives of several of her brothers and sisters, and she had to convince my father to take this seriously. A week later I saw a therapist who prescribed Zoloft. That medication changed my life, lifted a dark cloud that had been tormenting me for years, and I stayed on that drug, healthy and happy and able to cope, up until Jon and I decided that we should try to get pregnant.

I never should have gone off that drug. I know this now, having suffered terrible postpartum depression that could have been avoided had I seen the red flags in my third trimester, had I taken early steps to deal with the symptoms. But three months after Leta's birth I was an inconsolable, suicidal mess. I was beyond repair, and all the drugs I tried in the following months would only make things worse: Risperdal, Ativan, Trazadone, Lamictal, Effexor, Abilify, Strattera, Klonopin, Seroquel. I couldn't sleep, couldn't unclench my jaw or hands, couldn't imagine how I would get through another ten minutes. After weeks of threatening to leave Jon if he had me committed to a hospital, I finally gave in and committed myself.

Because I was under constant supervision, my doctor in the hospital was able to give me therapeutic quantities of drugs immediately: 40mg of Prozac, 10mg of Valium, 2400mg of Neurontin. It was a combination he had given to countless women who had suffered postpartum depression, one that had worked time and time again. I felt a difference within two hours, and if you ask Jon he will tell you that when he brought Leta up to the hospital that afternoon to have lunch, he saw Heather for the first time in seven months, not that awful woman who liked to throw keys at his head. I truly believe that my doctor in the hospital saved my life. I owe that man my life.

In the years since my hospital stay I have tapered off Valium completely and now only take 300mg Neurontin at night. I still take 40mg Prozac every day, and here's where I cannot be emphatic enough, I will continue to take it or something like it for the rest of my life. I will not ever be off medication. I continue to see my therapist, not every week or even every month, but whenever I hit a road block and need someone to help me talk my way through it. Sometimes I have bad days, sometimes bad weeks, but the medication enables me to cope, to see a way out and over those times. I am not ashamed of any of this.

I think many people are afraid that if they take medication or even agree to see a therapist that they are in some way admitting failure or defeat. Or they have been told by their boyfriend or their mother or their best friend that they should buck up and get over it, and that asking for help is a sign of weakness. Well then, let me be weak. Let me be a failure. Because being over here on this side, where I see and think clearly, where I'm happy to greet my child in the morning, where I can logically maneuver my way over tiny obstacles that would have previously been the end of the world, over here being a failure is a hell of a lot more enjoyable than the constant misery of suffering alone.

Yesterday I wanted to say this to someone but didn't because I'm afraid she will stop talking to me about certain things because I'm not telling her what she wants to hear. She wants me to tell her that she is right and that if she ignores a certain very large problem it will go away. But I don't understand why being right is more important that being happy, why someone would go on living with a sick, nauseating swarm of junk in her stomach rather than trying to figure out how to fix it, because the act of even admitting that she feels this way is somehow a character flaw.

All of this is to say that I am a success story. I am a victory for the mental health profession. And if you're even the tiniest bit on the fence about therapy or medication or herbs or acupuncture or prayer or meditation, whatever it is that you would turn to try and pull your way out of sadness but are afraid to because of all that it would mean, here is this crazy woman in the Utah desert who admitted and accepted all of those horrible things about herself and in doing so found a better life.


Dooce is one of my favorite sites to visit. After having a particularly difficult yet helpful session with Lee this morning, I opened up her blog to see what she had to say today. This is a terrible time of year for me; the emptiness, loneliness, and depression that come with this season have been almost unbearable these last few weeks. The fact that she choose to share this story, on this day, touched me in a way I can’t describe. Knowing that I’m not alone in my feelings, that people understand, others have been through it, makes me feel slightly less lonely…Jenn

Another poem for me..

I told you I loved you today

Likewise, you told me you loved me back
Our future together has started
Verbal words can't possibly relay my feelings
Every time I think of you

Your heart will be safe with me and
Our love will flourish and grow
Until well after our lives have become one

January thru December, I will cherish you
Everyday, and show you how precious and
Necessary you are to my life, and how
Near you are to my soul
I love you baby, and I will never
Forget the hand that reached out to mine
Even to here, in the darkest place
Reach out and hold my hand, as I hold yours.

CBC2007