For most of my life I aspired to do just one
thing: write and publish my memoir. I had spent more than 15 years networking
among editors and literary agents to make this happen. I invested more than a
few hours designing a publicity campaign comprised of the media connections
that I had virtually stalked over the years. I tried to climb aboard the
speaking circuit.
And yet despite all of my hopes and
expectations, a few months after hard copies hit the bookshelves, I felt the
familiar pangs of depression. What was going on?. My writer friends
call it PPD — post-publishing depression. The
same type of disorder happens to athletes, celebrities, even brides after the
big event, be it the Olympics, a film debut, or a wedding. The natural letdown
after walking away from the limelight can easily morph into major depression
disorder.
Everyday Health’s Madeline Vann just wrote a
great piece about the
depression that can arrive on the heels of 15 minutes of fame. She mentions the
case of Robert O’Donnell, the paramedic who saved young Jessica McClure, who
had fallen into a well.He relished the praise and became so addicted
to the attention that when it stopped he became clinically depressed. Nearly
eight years after the event he shot himself.
Vann draws from the wisdom of David Giles,
PhD, a psychologist at the University of Winchester, in the U.K., and author of
Illusions of Immortality: The
Psychology of Fame and Celebrity:
“Principally seeking fame is a way of
validating the unique self, which is why some people seem to be desperate for
fame,” Giles explains. “Obviously, most people seem to be able to validate the
unique self in some other way, through peer approval or professional
accomplishments, or even just through reproducing and having a network of close
friends.”
As Giles suggests, the trick is learning how
to validate our unique self in a way that won’t peter out once the curtains are
drawn. I think the two options he mentions — peer approval and professional
accomplishments — are somewhat dangerous in that professional accomplishments
come and go, and we have little control over peer approval.
A New York Times bestselling author can
publish a real dud as a sequel. A team of colleagues may reject a professor
when he doesn’t make tenure. What is needed is a perennial source of
self-esteem. If we base our worth on the opinions of other people, we will
crash with each rejection.
However, if there is some way that we can
look into the mirror and convince ourselves that we are good enough, and smart
enough, and, well, who cares if people like us, then we will stay strong when
our moment of acclaim and popularity and attention is gone.
Originally posted on Sanity Break at Everyday
Health.
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