Does Trauma Define me?

The Habit of Happiness

This is embarrassing, but when I was a teen, I took a needle and poked at the crook of my elbow, so people might think I had been a junkie at some point. I liked being seen as misunderstood, complex, and traumatized. I equated troubled with profound, even genius.

When I walked around New York City pretending I was Chrissie Hynde from the Pretenders and I’d meet someone new, I would make sure they knew about the losses I’d suffered in our first conversation.

50 years later, the more compelling idea for me is who I might be if I was free. Free from the need for external validation, free from self-critical voices, free from shame and blame.

I wonder if designing a future where I am loving, forgiving, fun, and generous can elicit from me my best self. Could I be happy at this moment, independent of my past?

I have a friend who regularly says, “I’m ADHD,” which doesn’t even sound grammatically correct. That’s what she says, but what I hear is, “I am attached to a diagnosis that a small group of doctors agree on, and I take speed for it.”

I am not saying the symptoms the doctors scooped together and labeled don’t exist. I am saying that that is the system I invested in. I have been diagnosed with three different kinds of depression and tried dozens of meds for it, none of which did me any good.

Is trauma real? Do we really have ‘issues in our tissues,’ and if so, can one rewire oneself by a habit of happiness? Too simple, right? But what if all the psychotherapeutic stuff I spent years attending to, the insights and the figuring out, and all that time and money, actually work against the simple habit of happiness? Too easy, right? But I’m trying it.

Every time the black dog of depression visits, I have a friend who sends me funny dog videos. That’s his prescription for me. It’s irritating, because I want him to take my depression seriously. But I watch the videos. And the neural pathways that lead to the familiar tailspin are replaced by a new path. You may have seen this one a thousand times, but it is still my favorite: Ultimate Dog Tease

If I’ve spent too much time with the black dog, I get with a small group of friends on Zoom who treat the dog as distinct from me, a visitor I can dismiss.

They make me say, “Oops, I fell down. I’m a boo-boo head,” and laugh with (and at) me because I do a really great kid voice.

People are resources. Their buoyancy is contagious.

So, am I a depressive? Doctors agree that I am. But I am not.