Our temperament is that mixture of personality, will, and sensitivity that God has put into us. With our upbringing, experiences, and culture, it affects our life in Christ. The four classical temperaments are choleric, melancholic, sanguine, and phlegmatic, each with its own strengths and weaknesses. The choleric responds quickly and decisively to situations. He sets particular goals and is confident that he can achieve them. The sanguine is also quick, outgoing, and optimistic, but driven more by pleasure than results and so is more capricious. The phlegmatic is ponderous, seeking not so much pleasure as to avoid discomfort, and takes things as they come because he doesn’t see what the fuss is about. The melancholic cares deeply but reacts more thoughtfully. He has high ideals but sees more obstacles and can therefore be more pessimistic.
In this article, we’ll focus on the melancholic—how to be one, and how to deal with one.
The melancholic is sensitive about himself and others and has a lively imagination. Conversely, he can be testy and let his imagination overwhelm him. His introversion and sensitivity get him wrapped up in himself. Because his high ideals are rarely, if ever, met, discouragement and despair dog him.
A melancholic guards his thoughts carefully. His vivid imagination and tendency to see the dark side can gain the upper hand and become, in St. Teresa of Avila’s phrase, “la loca de la casa,” the madwoman of the house. A poor job evaluation means he’ll be fired. Criticism can seem like rejection. Therefore, the melancholic’s initial reaction is to treat all negative thoughts as false, or at least suspect. But his first words must be, “It’s not as bad as I think.” This doesn’t mean ignoring problems, but rather realizing that things are rarely as horrific as they seem.
The melancholic might consider adopting the attitude of the great golfer Walter Hagen . “I expect to make at least seven mistakes a round,” he said, “so when I make a bad shot, it’s just one of the seven.”
This applies spiritually as well. Proverbs 24:16 says “the just man falls at least seven times a day.” The melancholic can get so overwhelmed with perfection that he gives up trying. Maybe I won’t read the whole Bible. Perhaps I can’t pray an entire rosary. But you can read some of the Bible today. You can pray one decade. In other words, you can set small, attainable goals, and don’t let the best be the enemy of the good. And whenever you fall, turn to our Lord right away and say, “There, I failed; it’s what happens when I forget you. Don’t let me leave you again.” That way, you can cheat the devil out of a follow-up sin. In life, as in sports, a short-term memory helps a lot.
The body trains the emotions, so melancholics should watch their body language. Keep your head up, and do things calmly. Try to smile, or at least not frown (a great mortification!). Haste and impetuosity are the enemy. As St. Elizabeth Ann Seton said, “Never be hurried by anything whatsoever. Nothing can be more pressing than the necessity of your peace before God. You will help others more by the peace and tranquility of your heart than by any eagerness or care you can bestow upon them.”
Melancholics have high aspirations: the perfect family, the perfect job, the perfect vacation. Well, nothing in life is perfect. Original sin affects everything, from our souls to the weather. People fail, copiers jam, and toast gets burnt. A good Major League hitter gets a hit only three times out of ten. Mistakes and failures are opportunities for the melancholic to learn, and there is always good to be found. As one father said to me after seeing straight “Fs” on his son’s report card, “Well, at least I know he didn’t cheat.” Or as G.K. Chesterton put it, “If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.”
In confession, the melancholic must be frank and fearless. Say the worst thing first, and get it out the way. Don’t get so upset about the (apparent) seriousness of a sin that you forget that that is what confession is for. As one priest said, “There’s nothing you can say that hasn’t been told to me by someone better than you.”
I often read St. Francis de Sales and G. K. Chesterton. De Sales, in his Introduction to the Devout Life and letters, has a gentle yet firm, practical approach. His is the “iron hand in the velvet glove,” always turning my gaze to God when I would look too much at myself. As for Chesterton, everything he wrote is tinged with joy and the beauty of life. I can’t read him without feeling lighter and happier.
To close it out, consider a few final bits of practical advice for melancholics:
It’s tempting to let high standards trump charity, to struggle with meekness, and to indulge resentments and suspicions. The solution is not to take yourself too seriously, and to pray for a thick skin. If you only knew how seldom people really think of you, you wouldn’t get so bent out of shape.
Get proper sleep, exercise, and watch your diet. Set a time for going to bed and getting up. Get some sun, even if only a walk around the block. Try to prioritize vegetables and protein over sugars, which induce mood swings and fatigue. And keep occupied, because a schedule “trims the fat” of idle time, where the devil prowls.
Force yourself into social situations, such as parties, conferences, and game nights. Try to greet others by name, or just greet others. Other people aren’t as bothersome as you think you are, and socializing will help you forget about yourself.
Practice small, regular mortifications, as an act of self-love (the good kind!), not self-punishment. Forgoing the salt on the eggs or skipping a dessert can be a “check” to get out of yourself and looking at Christ.
Our temperament is a gift from God. It should not be denied, but embraced. A melancholic should thank God for his thoughtfulness, his imagination, and his sensitivity. At the same time, he must cooperate with God’s grace to curb the excesses of those traits and become more outgoing, calm, and meek. Following these suggestions will help grace to perfect nature, allowing the melancholic to become the saint he is called to be.
Above all, try to remember the counsel of St. Francis de Sales: nothing can disturb us except self-love and the importance we give ourselves. That’s good advice, no matter what your temperament.