Leap When Appropriate
"Why do you think people would treat you worse if they knew the truth?"
This question is asked of Dr. Gregory House, M.D. (played by Hugh Laurie) by Dr. Darryl Nolan (Andre Braugher) in the second part of the House, M.D., season 6 premiere. It aired on September 21, 2009. I don't remember it distinctly, and just looked up the details on IMDB after catching that line as I rewatched the episode on a rainy, lazy Saturday morning in Georgia.
House is in a psychiatric hospital, to which he committed himself in an attempt to cure his Vicodin addiction. If you've ever watched the show, you know this character has developed a facade of, to put it mildly, being an asshole. Genius, wounded, addicted, Asshole.
I have an amazing ability to forget the details of TV shoes and movies I watch. In this case, even though I watched this entire series over the years it was on, I don't remember all the "whys" that made House the way he is. I know that his injured leg had a lot to do with the Vicodin becoming a problem. I'm sure the patients he saw suffer and the people who didn't think like him put him in a position where he needed the asshole mask, and the chemical escapes.
There were also a tremendous amount of moments for this character that showed that he WAS covering up, that he wasn't just a complete jerk. While I would laugh when the incredible, biting sarcasm would come out, it's the other moments now that I think resonated the most. That's the idea, isn't it? The show was a drama, not a comedy.
In the episode, as House tries to get himself out of the psych ward by out-manipulating Dr. Nolan, he interacts with a patient who has developed the mask of a superhero after the death of his wife left him vulnerable. This character is happy in his deluded world. Until he's given meds that make him more, shall we say, compliant. House doesn't like this, and winds up getting this man out for a joyride, and they get on one of those wind machines at a carnival where you feel like you are flying. Like a superhero.
After this, as they are headed back, the man tell House he's had the best day. He's happy. Then, in a parking garage, likely deluded into thinking he's still able to fly, he jumps off the side. He's badly broken and bruised, but lives. House, of course, feels bad this has happened. Dr. Nolan tells him that when the man returns, he should just apologize for putting him in that situation. Instead, the doctor in House notices something that he thinks will bring the man back to his happier, if deluded, self. He gives it to him, and then shakes the man as he still doesn't respond. He's medicated.
Dr. Nolan tells House, "You're trying to fix, instead of moving on." I found that poignant, as there are times when moving on is the best course of action, but we stubbornly try to fix it anyway. How do we know when to decide one way or the other?
I told my son yesterday that you learn more from failures than success. Being a teen, he argued the point with me. I said, if you take an action without knowing the result, and it works, yes you learned it works. But more likely, you already had an instinct that it would work. You either saw it somewhere before, or you were told it, or read it maybe. You probably saw it on YouTube.
If, however, it doesn't work, you know to not try it again, or at least not try it the same way. A smart person can look at a failure and figure out WHY it didn't work. It might take a lot of thought. Rarely do we put as much afterthought into a success.
And so, do we try to fix something that didn't work, or move on to something else? I guess it depends on what the circumstance is. Many things aren't worth trying again. They aren't important. But many other things, like relationships, are important, and so we try to fix them. Even if, as it might ultimately show us, they can't be fixed. We have to move on. Reluctantly perhaps.
Getting back to the first question of, "Why do you think people would treat you worse if they knew the truth?", I guess such a notion can come from the fact that, if we don't have firsthand knowledge of the consequence, we use some sort of secondhand or even instinctive knowledge to help us decide. We LEARNED it somewhere, somehow. Or we think we did. We cut ourselves off before we can actually find out the truth by experience. If we take the chance of revealing ourselves, we can either learn a little from the success, or at worst, learn a LOT from a negative outcome.
The point I'm trying to make is, in my life and maybe yours, we don't know until we try. I told my mom some truth recently, but I haven't told my kids. I survived the revelation to my mom, and while it's not tremendously positive, it might turn out that way. Why do I think that telling someone else would make it worse? I don't know it will be worse. Un-learned, potentially uninformed perception, or instinct, tells me what will happen. Those perceptions come from the past, and do not necessarily predict the future.
I suppose that taking more leaps is needed by me. Maybe by you, too? (So long as it's not from a parking garage, please. That's not even funny.) I wish you luck wish you luck with your next bit of courage, whatever it may be. Take care.
This question is asked of Dr. Gregory House, M.D. (played by Hugh Laurie) by Dr. Darryl Nolan (Andre Braugher) in the second part of the House, M.D., season 6 premiere. It aired on September 21, 2009. I don't remember it distinctly, and just looked up the details on IMDB after catching that line as I rewatched the episode on a rainy, lazy Saturday morning in Georgia.
House is in a psychiatric hospital, to which he committed himself in an attempt to cure his Vicodin addiction. If you've ever watched the show, you know this character has developed a facade of, to put it mildly, being an asshole. Genius, wounded, addicted, Asshole.
I have an amazing ability to forget the details of TV shoes and movies I watch. In this case, even though I watched this entire series over the years it was on, I don't remember all the "whys" that made House the way he is. I know that his injured leg had a lot to do with the Vicodin becoming a problem. I'm sure the patients he saw suffer and the people who didn't think like him put him in a position where he needed the asshole mask, and the chemical escapes.
There were also a tremendous amount of moments for this character that showed that he WAS covering up, that he wasn't just a complete jerk. While I would laugh when the incredible, biting sarcasm would come out, it's the other moments now that I think resonated the most. That's the idea, isn't it? The show was a drama, not a comedy.
In the episode, as House tries to get himself out of the psych ward by out-manipulating Dr. Nolan, he interacts with a patient who has developed the mask of a superhero after the death of his wife left him vulnerable. This character is happy in his deluded world. Until he's given meds that make him more, shall we say, compliant. House doesn't like this, and winds up getting this man out for a joyride, and they get on one of those wind machines at a carnival where you feel like you are flying. Like a superhero.
After this, as they are headed back, the man tell House he's had the best day. He's happy. Then, in a parking garage, likely deluded into thinking he's still able to fly, he jumps off the side. He's badly broken and bruised, but lives. House, of course, feels bad this has happened. Dr. Nolan tells him that when the man returns, he should just apologize for putting him in that situation. Instead, the doctor in House notices something that he thinks will bring the man back to his happier, if deluded, self. He gives it to him, and then shakes the man as he still doesn't respond. He's medicated.
Dr. Nolan tells House, "You're trying to fix, instead of moving on." I found that poignant, as there are times when moving on is the best course of action, but we stubbornly try to fix it anyway. How do we know when to decide one way or the other?
I told my son yesterday that you learn more from failures than success. Being a teen, he argued the point with me. I said, if you take an action without knowing the result, and it works, yes you learned it works. But more likely, you already had an instinct that it would work. You either saw it somewhere before, or you were told it, or read it maybe. You probably saw it on YouTube.
If, however, it doesn't work, you know to not try it again, or at least not try it the same way. A smart person can look at a failure and figure out WHY it didn't work. It might take a lot of thought. Rarely do we put as much afterthought into a success.
And so, do we try to fix something that didn't work, or move on to something else? I guess it depends on what the circumstance is. Many things aren't worth trying again. They aren't important. But many other things, like relationships, are important, and so we try to fix them. Even if, as it might ultimately show us, they can't be fixed. We have to move on. Reluctantly perhaps.
Getting back to the first question of, "Why do you think people would treat you worse if they knew the truth?", I guess such a notion can come from the fact that, if we don't have firsthand knowledge of the consequence, we use some sort of secondhand or even instinctive knowledge to help us decide. We LEARNED it somewhere, somehow. Or we think we did. We cut ourselves off before we can actually find out the truth by experience. If we take the chance of revealing ourselves, we can either learn a little from the success, or at worst, learn a LOT from a negative outcome.
The point I'm trying to make is, in my life and maybe yours, we don't know until we try. I told my mom some truth recently, but I haven't told my kids. I survived the revelation to my mom, and while it's not tremendously positive, it might turn out that way. Why do I think that telling someone else would make it worse? I don't know it will be worse. Un-learned, potentially uninformed perception, or instinct, tells me what will happen. Those perceptions come from the past, and do not necessarily predict the future.
I suppose that taking more leaps is needed by me. Maybe by you, too? (So long as it's not from a parking garage, please. That's not even funny.) I wish you luck wish you luck with your next bit of courage, whatever it may be. Take care.
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