The other day, because I’m not used to dealing with life without tobacco (12 days so far, whee!) and because I ran out of my meds accidentally that morning (I’ve got some more now) and because sometimes things are just a lot to take, I found myself sitting in my cubicle and looking at my screen through a blur of tears.

Sometimes an attack like that can be dodged by refocusing, but this wasn’t that kind. It was a real will-sapper. I felt like limp lettuce. Limp lettuce that was suddenly very sad for no reason.

I dragged myself out of my chair and pulled my friend and coworker M. outside with me for a non-smoking break — we are quitting together — and proceeded to burst into tears in front of him. There wasn’t anything he could do, because the attack wasn’t because of anything in particular. But, strange to tell, it helped immensely. I think I know why.

At one point I would have dealt with an episode like this by heading to the bathroom, locking the door, and collapsing in a corner for a while. I’d fantasize about turning to this or that person for help, but talk myself out of it for various reasons: that it wouldn’t do any good, or that they’ve got their own problems, or that I didn’t want to feed my own self-pity. Then I’d clean myself up, check my eyes for redness as if I’d been smoking dope, and get back to work.

But it’s a very lonely feeling to be desperately sad and to have nobody know about it. It’s one more way to reinforce the idea that you are irrevocably different, and that your problems are somehow invalid, not allowable.

Doing it all in front of somebody, on the other hand, is a very different experience. It’s a question of being seen; and this, all by itself, helps makes you feel like a part of the human race after all, instead of someone invisibly locked in a bathroom somewhere, having his private problems that nobody knows about and nobody can solve.

It gives you the chance to see that your friends can see you at your worst and take it in their stride, without being surprised (because they will have been there, too) or weirded out (because being sad isn’t weird). It also honors the friend — says to him, See, I trust you enough to fall apart in front of you. It gives him a chance to say all the fairly meaningless but surprisingly helpful things that can be said in such a situation: talk to me, hang in there, I’m here for you.

Remember, it’s a mitzvah to let somebody else do a mitzvah for you.

14 Comments on “Seen”

  1. Nayhee says:

    Coolness. I like this insight and hope I get the courage to follow your lead next time I’m in a funk. Hope you feel better, too.

  2. Scott says:

    May our aveyeys lead us to a better place.

    Your blog is your mitzvah for me.

  3. Diogo says:

    I recently found your blog, but I’ve already sent you a question to your email, how long do you take to answer to the emails?

    Thank you for these posts!

    1. Glad you’re enjoying the blog! I usually answer emails within a week.

  4. Mark from PA says:

    I am sending you a big hug, Steve. Hang in there. I am so glad that I never smoked. It must be awful to be that attached to that habit and then have to quit. My mom gave up smoking for health reasons and it was hard for her. I am so thankful that she did because I think it gave her more years of life, so I think I had more time with her because she gave up cigarettes. I feel bad that you felt so sad. I take medication too and I suppose it helps some. When I was younger I didn’t have to take any and now that I am older it is a challenge. God bless you, my friend.

  5. Warren says:

    Sometimes I think it’s because our society thinks that men ought never to need help. Like we are all Lone Rangers or The Rifleman.
    Listening suggestion: “the rifleman” by The Choir.

  6. Gavin says:

    What Mark from PA said.

    And don’t forget Bilbo and Frodo Baggins and their friends!

  7. Rick says:

    It’s really incredible how your posts always seem to coincide with something I really need to read at the time.

  8. Lady Harriet says:

    My uncle was an alcoholic who joined AA and got himself sober at a relatively young age. He also was a smoker and said he found it harder to quit smoking than it was to quit drinking. He’s been away from both for many years now, so it can be done!

    I want to thank you for writing this blog. SSA is not a problem that I deal with, but I have been struggling with depression on and off for years. Your thoughts on it have been very helpful for me..

  9. Dubravka S. says:

    Thank you…just, thank you. 🙂

  10. Alisha Ruiss says:

    Thanks for this. Hugs.

  11. Claudia ~ Newbury Park says:

    OH YES great blessing to allow someone to be/do a blessing for / to you.

    BTW, side effect of quitting smoking.

  12. Sarah says:

    Have you read the book “Feeling Good” by Dr.David Burns. I was recently diagnosed with depression and it has been helpful in teaching me to use cognitive therapy along with medication to overcome depression and those crying episodes. OH and btw thanks for you witness.
    Peace in Jesus and Mary

  13. Melody says:

    Thank-you Steve, you are amazing

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