To be alive is to be vulnerable, but to be human is to be sensitive in ways undreamt of by other creatures. All life forms are prey to death, loss, illness, and injury. But people also fear disappointment, ill-repute, and injustice. As was touched on last time, our values make us susceptible to considerable pain.
The most obvious and universal value is love, and it inevitably brings grief. No one we love will be with us forever, and except for those rare cases of simultaneous death, one lover always passes from this life before the other. The result is grief. No one who lives beyond youth escapes it, and many children suffer it too.
When I was five years old my grandfather died, and a beloved dog was stolen, never to return. I learned two flavors of bereavement that year. In the first case, I felt remorse. My father’s father seemed to me a frightening and humorless man. He often yelled at me and my cousin and never played with us. We made fun of him behind his back.
When he died after a bad car crash, I couldn’t forgive myself for my disrespect. If only I could have gone back and behaved better, learned to love him more and tried to understand him.
We all hope to pursue certain directions in life. We may not always admit how much our values affect us, but they greatly influence our thoughts, emotions, and actions.
The person who makes a mistake and loses a cherished job feels shame. The mental obsessions that surround the shame may center on what went wrong, on the boss who couldn’t tolerate errors, or on the spouse who will be disappointed. Despite these different thoughts, the shamed response is driven by the conviction that doing a good job is important.
Mistakes matter because the work matters (consider a surgeon who made a dreadful error—he or she is concerned about the patient’s outcome, not just personal consequences). Performance matters because work well done brings social approval, which is painfully lost when the boss fires a failing worker. Employment matters because material support keeps family fed, clothed, and sheltered. But most of all, work matters because it is a central value in the lives of most people.
If the job is lost because of addiction, then the addict feels shame about his or her dependence on substance use. But the shame remains driven by the underlying value: useful work.
On my personal blog, WillSpirit, I wrote a few posts about Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT). Writing about ACT seemed like a valuable blogging direction, because the method has helped me live more effectively than ever before. As I’ve worked on my emotions and moods over nearly forty years, I’ve tried many therapies, spiritualities, and activities, but only with ACT have I seen robust improvement. Part of ACT’s effectiveness in my case may be due to the groundwork laid by earlier practices, but there’s much more to it than that. I therefore feel called to help popularize the approach.
I began the discussion with the last post on this site, entitled How Much Can We Endure?, That piece made the point that hardship can become enriching when we find meaning within it, which is a central theme of ACT. But I also emphasized that some people have trouble bearing up under life’s burdens, by which I specifically meant they die due to poorly chosen coping strategies. Suicide, and death caused by substance abuse, seem like clear signs of failure to manage life effectively.
But does addiction, by itself, mean a person is living poorly? Does chronic depression? Workaholism? High anxiety? Extreme sensitivity? Low self-esteem?
In evaluating these questions, we come to ACT’s emphasis on values as one of the six dimensions of psychological flexibility, and hence wellness.