One of the axioms I live by is that I'm "Tested to Self-Destruction since 1983". It's not a particularly theological phrase, but it's very, very central to how I life, so I figured I'd write about it.
In many types of engineering, planned buildings, cars, and other structures are modeled and then tested to destruction. Destructive testing allows the engineers to say "OK, we know for a fact that the bridge will fail when there are 600 tons on it, so we will set the max load at 450 tons and allow a 150 ton safety margin."
Not destructively testing the design would mean they could only estimate the design's max load, and would have no way of knowing what's actually safe, or even where the weakest part of the structure is. Computer modeling is nice, but nothing beats a full-scale test. Destructive testing allows the engineers to create stronger, safer bridges by identifying and fixing weak spots.
People are, I believe, similar in a way. Everyone has a breaking point, but most people (I believe) never try to find it, and certainly never by choice. Given the option between sitting on a couch or trying to find out exactly how far one can run, most people these days would choose to sit on the couch. However, someone who decides that before breakfast, they're going to walk outside and run until they simply can't run another step will learn something about themselves that they didn't know.
It might be that they've got bad running shoes, or it might be that they need to eat better. It might be that they thought they could run a mile and only ran a half-mile. Maybe they ran five. Pushing until they hit the absolute limit of their ability to run will not only show them their limit, it will make them stronger and show their weaknesses, and if they so desire, allow them to address those weakness.
I am diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. I have certain mental weaknesses that have often limited my ability to handle life, but I refuse to play it safe and sit on the couch, either literally or metaphorically. So I take my meds as prescribed, then do everything I can to push the limits of what I can and can't handle. This has occasionally been destructive in my life.
I once went laser-tagging at the end of a 30-hour sleepless period, and messed up my hand bad enough that I couldn't use it well for a week, but despite that qualifying as destructive testing, I found out that the limit of how long I can stay up and be highly active was over 24 hours.
The limit of how much depression I can handle without wanting to eat a bullet has also been pushed pretty far, and I've never attempted suicide. In 2011 I went through a depressive period so severe that I was barely functional (meaning I could barely feed myself, not "I could barely hold a job and go to school"), but I never wanted to kill myself, even though the idea was at times tempting.
I've also done purely-physical things to push my limits, with possibly-destructive results. I've done backpacking trips that were, by the end of the day's hike, a one-step-at-a-time affair, and I once did a 30-mile bicycle ride, so I know that if I need to, I could push my body pretty far. I've never found the absolute limit of my ability to carry a 50-lb ruck, some day I want to. Then a week later I'll walk further, just to push that limit.
The common thread in all of this is that it's generally me pushing me to work harder until I break down in one form or another. I won't for a second say that this is a safe and pleasant way to walk through life, but I have learned that the limit of how far I can push myself before I self-destruct is generally a ways further than I normally need to.
The result has always been that I get a little bit tougher. Every time muscles are exercised hard, they tear a bit, and the tears fill in with more muscle cells, growing stronger through damage. It's the same with everything else that gets pushed to the limit: Once the absolute limit is found, it can generally be pushed a little farther the next time one tries to find it. I know the limits of my depression, and how bad I can let it get before I need help. Same thing with mania.
There are things I cannot either physically or emotionally handle, and there always will be. Everyone has a breaking point, but one of the things I am sure of in this life is that if we are not afraid of occasionally breaking down, if we contintually strive to push our limits every time we come near them, then we will be tougher, stronger, smarter, and in every way more capable than if we sit on our couches in fear.
I've been tested to self-destruction since 1983, and I am better every year for it.
In many types of engineering, planned buildings, cars, and other structures are modeled and then tested to destruction. Destructive testing allows the engineers to say "OK, we know for a fact that the bridge will fail when there are 600 tons on it, so we will set the max load at 450 tons and allow a 150 ton safety margin."
Not destructively testing the design would mean they could only estimate the design's max load, and would have no way of knowing what's actually safe, or even where the weakest part of the structure is. Computer modeling is nice, but nothing beats a full-scale test. Destructive testing allows the engineers to create stronger, safer bridges by identifying and fixing weak spots.
People are, I believe, similar in a way. Everyone has a breaking point, but most people (I believe) never try to find it, and certainly never by choice. Given the option between sitting on a couch or trying to find out exactly how far one can run, most people these days would choose to sit on the couch. However, someone who decides that before breakfast, they're going to walk outside and run until they simply can't run another step will learn something about themselves that they didn't know.
It might be that they've got bad running shoes, or it might be that they need to eat better. It might be that they thought they could run a mile and only ran a half-mile. Maybe they ran five. Pushing until they hit the absolute limit of their ability to run will not only show them their limit, it will make them stronger and show their weaknesses, and if they so desire, allow them to address those weakness.
I am diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. I have certain mental weaknesses that have often limited my ability to handle life, but I refuse to play it safe and sit on the couch, either literally or metaphorically. So I take my meds as prescribed, then do everything I can to push the limits of what I can and can't handle. This has occasionally been destructive in my life.
I once went laser-tagging at the end of a 30-hour sleepless period, and messed up my hand bad enough that I couldn't use it well for a week, but despite that qualifying as destructive testing, I found out that the limit of how long I can stay up and be highly active was over 24 hours.
The limit of how much depression I can handle without wanting to eat a bullet has also been pushed pretty far, and I've never attempted suicide. In 2011 I went through a depressive period so severe that I was barely functional (meaning I could barely feed myself, not "I could barely hold a job and go to school"), but I never wanted to kill myself, even though the idea was at times tempting.
I've also done purely-physical things to push my limits, with possibly-destructive results. I've done backpacking trips that were, by the end of the day's hike, a one-step-at-a-time affair, and I once did a 30-mile bicycle ride, so I know that if I need to, I could push my body pretty far. I've never found the absolute limit of my ability to carry a 50-lb ruck, some day I want to. Then a week later I'll walk further, just to push that limit.
The common thread in all of this is that it's generally me pushing me to work harder until I break down in one form or another. I won't for a second say that this is a safe and pleasant way to walk through life, but I have learned that the limit of how far I can push myself before I self-destruct is generally a ways further than I normally need to.
The result has always been that I get a little bit tougher. Every time muscles are exercised hard, they tear a bit, and the tears fill in with more muscle cells, growing stronger through damage. It's the same with everything else that gets pushed to the limit: Once the absolute limit is found, it can generally be pushed a little farther the next time one tries to find it. I know the limits of my depression, and how bad I can let it get before I need help. Same thing with mania.
There are things I cannot either physically or emotionally handle, and there always will be. Everyone has a breaking point, but one of the things I am sure of in this life is that if we are not afraid of occasionally breaking down, if we contintually strive to push our limits every time we come near them, then we will be tougher, stronger, smarter, and in every way more capable than if we sit on our couches in fear.
I've been tested to self-destruction since 1983, and I am better every year for it.
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