Dear Future Self: 10 things that soothe me when I'm sad for no reason (or for all the reasons)
Plus a very, very shallow but totally accurate bonus
Dear Future Self,
Hello! I write to you on the morning the kids go back to school, after a long break filled with seasonal music (my son is still humming We Wish You A Merry Christmas, I suspect because he knows it dances on my last nerve), puzzles (addicted to these!) and old movies (the kids loved The Game—hard to believe we showed the 12-year-old a David Fincher movie, but as usual, she loved every age-inappropriate minute).
If you overheard me talking to the mail carrier or an acquaintance about how our holidays went, I’d probably call them “great” or “nice” or “chill.” But the truth is, they were also…..well, difficult. You see, I was sad a lot of the time, and I’m not entirely sure why.
Let me get this out of the way and say my privileged life doesn’t warrant any sadness. Really, I have no right to be blue.
And yet, depression is an old friend. I recently tapered off some medication (under a doctor’s supervision), so chances are good that played into it. Also, for as much as I crave rest, an extended break from routine can feel like swimming underwater in the dark: below the surface, it’s hard to know which way is up. And! Let’s not forget the insidious effects of darker and colder days, even in California. (I can almost hear my East Coast friends guffawing all the way from my sunny, bougainvillea-framed front porch.) I guess SAD is still a thing no matter where you call home.
Of course, there are lots of other extenuating circumstances this year to justify feeling down, from personal reasons to global—nay, galactic!—issues that plague every last one of us. You’d think with all our zany modern conveniences we’d have an easier time of it, but I suspect the rapidly growing gap between humanity’s ingenuity and humanity’s capacity for change is to blame for a lot of our unrest.
In any case, we don’t need to hash out all the reasons for my troubles over the last month. Instead, I’d like to offer a look back at the measures that helped when spirits were low, because they really did work. This is for future reference, Future Self, so please pay attention! Some are no-brainers; others might be unexpected. Perhaps as you enter a similar season in years to come, my fastidious notes here will be of use.
Here’s what soothed me, in no particular order. (Just remember, dear one, these are small perk-ups. When you need the big guns, head to your therapist and consider revisiting the medication discussion.)
Back scratches. As someone who lives deeply between her ears, I don’t often recognize the value of physical touch until it’s waaaay past due. Thankfully, I’m married to someone who is both highly compassionate and naturally affectionate. Last night, as he read in bed before falling asleep, I asked if he would scratch my back, my arms, and my neck—and it helped. Something about the immediacy of physical contact can break the grip of mental anguish. Next time you feel it, ask him for a nice long scratch session. I bet he’ll say yes.
The ocean. Not everyone gets the luxury of living 10 minutes from a beach, but you do, and you’d be a fool not to take advantage of it. Twice during the last month, my intuition called me closer to the waves, and both times, I felt more centered and free. Recall the words of Isak Dinesen in Seven Gothic Tales:
“Do you know a cure for me?"
"Why yes," he said, "I know a cure for everything. Salt water."
"Salt water?" I asked him.
"Yes," he said, "in one way or the other. Sweat, or tears, or the salt sea.”
From a recent hike I took along the Harmony Headlands trail Animals. It’s an exhaustively-researched fact that pets support mental health. Our own kitties, Oatmeal and Raisin certainly do, anyway. Their warm little bodies on my lap and insatiable biscuit-making are soothing and transmit unconditional love when life feels meh. But even scrolling through animal videos can brighten a dark day for me. It’s infantile, but I have a Pinterest board called “Natural Antidepressant” that features videos of animals being weird, adorable and hilarious for when I need a hit of happiness. There’s a sea otter mama snuggling her newborn pup, a turtle cruising around in a dinosaur sweater, and a group of raccoons letting their freak flag fly on an indoor slide. (Another great antidepressant: animal group names. For example, a group of raccoons is called a “committee.” We’ve all sat on committees like this, haven’t we?)
Bach. Years ago when I made a living in classical music education, I read research that showed younger children tend to like Baroque composers (who wrote between 1600-1750) because they use repetitive and predictable patterns in their music. In other words, Baroque music makes kids feels safe. I wonder if that’s why I come back to the Baroque period’s main man, Johann Sebastian Bach, whenever I yearn for peace. In particular, I love Yo-Yo Ma’s recordings of the Bach Cello Concertos (actually, anything involving Yo-Yo Ma is instantly soothing) and Glenn Gould’s recordings of The Goldberg Variations.
Put these on a pair of the best headphones you can find, crank the volume, and sink into the playful security of Bach’s music like a warm bath. Better yet: take him to the beach for a long walk. (See #2.)
A big cry. Okay, this is almost too obvious to mention (and it might happen on its own after listening to Bach by the ocean anyway) but sometimes I find myself holding back from a good old fashioned sobfest because I’m worried that if I start, I’ll never be able to stop. And that’s a fair concern. But if the tears want to flow, I find it’s good to make way for them. Sure, a big cry can be scary, but it can also be cathartic—from the Greek word kathairein, which means “to cleanse or purge.” Maybe it’s necessary to purge the tears to be able to reach the joy? It sounds clunky and bizarre, but don’t rule the possibility out, Future Self. Put a half-hour to cry on the calendar if it feels like it wants to happen. Who knows what fresh relief will arrive on its heels?
Warm feet. Speaking of heels, I have poor circulation, and in winter, my feet become cold the moment they exit the warmth of the bed each morning. Fluffy socks, blankets and slippers can’t touch the kind of chill I experience every day—a deadening sensation that fools my whole body into believing it’s freezing, and which carries a low-level melancholy with it. I’ve only known three things that can break the spell: exposing my feet to the sun’s UV rays (which isn’t always possible in winter), going to bed (also, not always possible), and taking a bath or at least submerging my feet in hot water. Try this out, Future Self, and as you let the heat do its work, you’ll notice the muscles in your neck, brow and belly loosening. As I write to you now, wrapped in a fleece blanket on the couch with ice-cold toes, I can imagine how good it feels. I may have to leave for a 20-minute soak before continuing on here…
This path of winter sunlight on the floor has all the makings of an excellent barefoot-warming sesh. Stretching. It’s not exactly a news flash that stretching is beneficial. But it’s a truth universal that when we’re blue, we can’t imagine how good movement is for us—or, more accurately, we can’t imagine how to begin. In an effort to trick myself into stretching more, I joined a hot yoga studio that charges $15 for cancellations. Having classes on the calendar several days ahead of time is a revelation. Honestly, I would have cancelled every single one in the four hours before class if it weren’t for that cancellation fee! But once I’m there, settling into the rhythm of a vinyasa flow, draped in a forward fold or cozy in pigeon stretch, my world of concerns shrinks down to fit the size of my yoga mat, and the rumination quiets. Plus, remember my cold feet from #6? They’re a distant memory by the time I’m 10 minutes into a hot yoga class.
Being fed. When I’m sad, I have no idea what I want to eat, nor do I have the wherewithal to contemplate my options, let alone make something. Left to my own devices, I’ll usually just poke at the snack drawer in the pantry: a handful of peanut butter pretzels, a few dried apricots, some chocolate chips. These aren’t horrible options, of course. I’m thankful to have something easy to grab, but what I really need is to be fed: to be led to a table and presented with a plate of hearty warm nutrition, a tall glass of water or a mug of tea. Last night, I went grocery shopping alongside all the returning college students, and nearly lost my mind navigating a cart through the crowds. (When depression rears its head, anger is never far away.) Thankfully, I’d asked Jake earlier in the day to prepare the Modern Proper’s Chimichurri Steak recipe, so it was hot and ready to soothe my beastliness when I returned to the house. If home-cooked isn’t an option, a restaurant can also certainly do the job.
Sometimes when I’m on the struggle bus I fantasize someone makes me sit down, hands me a hot Priedite BBQ burger and says, “EAT.” Service to others. On Christmas Day this year, I really had a hard time getting into the holiday spirit. Even with happy kids, presents, coffee, and the fireplace aglow, I felt like I couldn’t hang. Thankfully, I had signed the whole family up weeks before to help out at the annual Christmas Day dinner for the homeless, provided by SLO Community Cares. (Thank goodness for Past Self knowing what Future Self needs in advance, amiright?) The moment we walked onsite, my whole body chemistry changed for the positive. An army of volunteers stocked a tent full of sleeping bags, sweatshirts, coats, beanies, scarves and backpacks to give away, while others bustled in the kitchen putting together hundreds of decadent Christmas dinners, and still others set up for the live band that was to play during dinner.
All set up and ready to serve at the annual SLO Community Cares Christmas Dinner. We helped with a number of tasks, but my favorite was serving coffee to guests as they waited for the doors to open. A spirit of gratitude and shared humanity pervaded among both the serving and the served. In fact, when our shift was over, the kids didn’t want to leave! Talk about a Christmas miracle. Program this event for every year, Future Self. Trust me on this.
Talk with a good friend. I am exceedingly fortunate in this department, as I have several good friends who understand me better than I understand myself. There’s no doubt they’ll be around for you, too, Future Self. Treasure them! They make you richer than the wealthiest person who ever lived. Just remember: human beings are pack animals. Don’t separate yourself from the herd because you fear becoming a downer or a burden. It bears repeating, like a mantra: We need each other. We need each other. We need each other.
The above list makes for a nice, round number of healthy measures to take when things feel low, sluggish, or just plain icky. But you know what? I’m going to throw in a bonus, because I care about you:
11. New shoes. A guy once asked me, “What makes you truly happy?” and I said, “New shoes.” He chuckled and was like, “No, for real.” And I said, “I am for real. It’s new shoes.” Now, look, this may be a shallow answer to a deep question, but that doesn’t make it any less accurate. In fact, I’m thinking about a pair of cream Sambas that are making their way to me via UPS right now, and doing so legitimately makes me feel good. Will the happiness last forever, Future Self? Absolutely not. But is it real, indisputable happiness right now? Yes. And that’s not nothing.
I’m so glad we can be open like this. Hang in there, FS, and stay in touch.
Until next time,
Thank you for this. Every idea is a good one.
So many practical, funny and loving suggestions. But hold the cats.