The Compassionate Instinct

Experts call this variable the “resilience factor.” Endless research dollars have been spent attempting to unlock its mysteries in hopes of allowing more of us to sail and fewer of us to get stuck in the muck. It’s still not clear what combination of genetics, upbringing, and circumstance makes one person more resilient than the next. But most experts agree that feeling powerless doesn’t help—and that feeling competent and in control does. That’s why Jerilyn Ross, president and CEO of the Anxiety Disorders Association of America and author of One Less Thing to Worry About, is a proponent of the activism cure.

“When we give back, it shifts the focus outside ourselves,” Ross says. “It creates a sense of satisfaction that increases endorphins and therefore, a sense of well-being.” “When we’re feeling down,” she continues, “the instinct is often to vent to friends. It’s good to have a support system, but if that’s all there is, it’s hard to get distance from what’s bothering you. Doing things for other people, thinking about other people, is like giving your brain a break from despair.”

SHARING STORIES

In 1991, when her husband, Mike, was killed in a collision with a drunk driver, Laura Dean-Mooney was overwhelmed by despair. “In one instant,” she says, “a complete stranger turned me into a widow and a single mom.”

Over the next several months, Laura sought help from a grief counselor and “prayed like crazy.” But as time passed and her anguish didn’t, she felt the need to do more. She became a speaker for MADD (Mothers Against Drunk Driving), telling her story to offenders in DUI programs, testifying before victim impact panels. “I could see their attitudes change as they listened,” she recalls. “One offender told me he’d never again start his car without thinking of me and Mike, and he vowed he’d never drive drunk again.”

“For the first time since the accident,” Laura says, “I felt that I had a mission in life. If I could keep even one person from experiencing the same loss, I could change the world in a positive way.”

Laura was surprised to find that her activism also changed her. “Sharing my story was an extremely cathartic process,” she says.

Karen Gleason, of Orinda, California, also found relief in activism. In 2000, at age 58, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. When her treatment ended, Karen decided to live out a dream deferred. She’d always wanted to visit Africa, and finally, she did. “In a small community called Ruinzoree,” Karen recalls, “I discovered a program that was fighting AIDS very effectively, but the program had no money. So I started a nonprofit organization to raise the funds that were needed.”

Today Friends of Ruinzoree raises $130,000 a year and serves 800 families. The program’s grateful clients credit Karen’s work with saving their lives, and she credits her volunteerism with helping to save hers. Karen is now cancer free and happier than she’s ever been.

“I believe that my immune system got stronger because I had emotional health,” Karen says. “And for me, emotional health comes from feeling like I’m needed, and being part of a group of like-minded people…. When I start to worry about cancer or anything else, I just focus on the joy I get from knowing I’m making a difference. That’s what feeds me.”

SOMETHING GREATER THAN YOU

Kate Hanni and Laura Dean-Mooney turned to activism in response to some of the harshest blows that life has to offer. The activist cure works for them and for the people their organizations serve. But can activism also help ordinary people deal with the ordinary challenges that render so many of us so unhappy, unsettled, and unglued these days?

Stephen Post is certain that it can. Citing the findings of the Musick-Wilson study, he says, “Even volunteering for 2 or 3 hours a week has been found to lower situational depression. One can’t expect this in severe cases, but it doesn’t take a whole lot of activity to create an emotional shift in people who are mildly depressed.”

Chia Hamilton is a case in point. In 2005, she was newly retired from 25 years as a human resources coordinator. She’d looked forward to retirement with great anticipation, but once she’d read all the books on her nightstand, taught herself some new computer programs, and turned her front yard into a prolific vegetable garden, she found herself facing days that suddenly felt long and empty, wondering what she’d do with the rest of her life.

A creeping depression started to infiltrate her normally upbeat temperament. Friends were worried about her. She was worried about herself. And then one day while she was grocery shopping, a notice on the bulletin board caught her eye. A few weeks later, Chia was sitting with a roomful of inmates at San Quentin Prison, facilitating a conflict resolution workshop. For the next six years, Chia traveled the country, bringing the mission of nonviolent communication to hundreds of prisoners.