When Susie, my first wife, was receiving chemo to treat her uterine cancer, she was visited by a Reiki practitioner, a social worker and a music therapist. Even a guy with a golden retriever made the rounds. To say I was impressed with such emotional support would be an enormous understatement. I saw the impact of those visits etched on her face, and I was grateful for each one of them.

In my cardiovascular ward, things were dramatically different. I spent more than six weeks there with the ever-present absence of therapy dogs, Reiki healers, or any of the others Susie was fortunate to meet with. While I did receive help from Andrew, my aide, my support network pretty much consisted of one person—my current wife Lynn—who really advocated for me and grounded me in reality. But even still, I experienced bouts of severe depression during and after my stays in the hospital.

Now, I’ve dealt with my past, come to understand and respect it, and it now remains where it belongs. Traumas I’ve experienced are no longer obstacles to my happiness. And so therein lies the question I still ask myself from time to time: How did I transition from victim to survivor?

My emotional growth has been an ongoing process, not a single event. I didn’t just wake up one morning with a lightbulb shining over my head, free of all self-pity and victimization. I still have to work at it every day. But the following tactics reveal how I was able to do it.

Seek Out Professional Help

The help I received from my therapist was critical to my evolving. So unless you’re the poster child for emotional well-being—and really, who is?—a major piece of the puzzle for us patients is to pursue therapy.

It comes in many flavors, as do therapists, so it’s important to find the style that works for you and the practitioner with whom you have the right chemistry. My therapist practiced a discipline called emotionally focused therapy, which stresses the role various emotions, such as anger, fear, and loss of trust, play in relationships. By extension, it can be an effective treatment for depression.

She had worked alongside a chaplain on an oncology ward, and her love of poetry and Buddhism combined to produce just the right teacher for me, one who could understand and validate my feelings with compassion while opening doors for me with her extraordinary insight and knowledge.

But Don’t Be Afraid to Reject Unhelpful “Help”

Some years ago, I was struggling with another challenging period in my life. I found a nearby psychologist with evening hours and went with him for the convenience.

After two months, I realized all he was doing was allowing me to story tell while offering nothing of value. I didn’t get anything from him except a bill marked Paid!

I found someone else the following week and stuck with his replacement for a year. Therapy can really work if you have the patience to find the right fit and then stick with it, and especially if you advocate for your health and leave if you’re not satisfied.

Rediscover Your Body’s Powers

Yoga, I’ve discovered, can be another weapon in the battle against a surgery-fueled depression. While it’s true you can’t practice Downward Dog with sixty staples holding your incision together, you can practice the most important principles of yoga—breathing, meditation, patience, compassion, being present in the moment—anywhere at any time.

I’d never had an interest in yoga before, as I was a treadmill and weight-circuit type, but I was encouraged by my wife Lynn to try it a few months after my second surgery. Today, nearly three years later, I practice four to five times a week, including two classes. It brings me a sense of calm and peace no matter what else is happening in my life and reminded me that my body is still so capable.

Giving is Receiving

It’s natural to be preoccupied with our own needs after surviving major surgery. We’ve been through so much, and typically, it takes a long time to regain the independence we used to have—or at least some degree of it. So we have to lean on others along the way, and that’s okay.

But while we’re doing so, there’s still room to show others the same kindness and compassion we ourselves need. For me, it meant connecting to a few of my roommates and a couple of nurses to show them my gratitude and understanding. After Susie died, I joined an online support group. Others who reached out to me were an enormous help, but I found that my reaching out to them was just as meaningful and perhaps even more so.

When I think about it, I realize it allowed me to see myself as more than just a man with a loss, just as reaching out in the hospital reminded me that I was more than just a man with an illness. I was a man with something to give—life lessons, comfort and hope.

Get Back to You

After spending six weeks on the cardio ward, it became harder and harder for me to remember I was a functional human being. All my food was prepared for me, my day planned by someone else, I could not move without alleviating the pain from my surgeries.

But as I began to heal, I slowly and surely got back in touch with my authentic self, the one who could make important decisions, such as returning to the hospital for my second surgery. I chose to do that and got the help I needed to make it happen. I could have avoided the whole thing, but instead, I chose to live.

The very ability to act autonomously allows us to feel more in control and therefore, less helpless.

Have a Change in Heart

Beyond all external resources and supports, there is one more tip that will have to come from within, but it’s powerful and effective, costs nothing, and you don’t need training. Just a little change in attitude.

Being a hospital patient, especially a cardiothoracic surgical type, means ultimate vulnerability. You’re the object of whomever may walk into your room. Maybe it’s lunch, maybe it’s an unexpected procedure, maybe it’s good news, maybe it’s not-so-good news.

In such a setting, one thing is pretty much certain—every deep-seated, repressed fear that’s in you will come out, and the entire experience can be terrifying. But how you handle it will determine what life lessons you glean from it. Will you teach yourself to be a victim, or a warrior?

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According to the American Heart Association, up to 25 percent of cardiac surgery patients suffer from depression while in the hospital and afterward (I’d be willing to wager the number’s actually higher than that because of the undiagnosed).

I believe there’s a psychophysical connection between heart surgery and depression; not only is the body impacted, but it’s as if the core of one’s actual being has been assaulted. It’s easy to fall into post-surgical depression when we feel powerless.

But it’s so uplifting to be proactive because we begin to realize we matter.

So, I chose to drive again, do yoga, and travel even out of the country. To have a life. To maybe—no, definitely—have a better life.

I believe you can, too.

Michael Dymant is an investment adviser who loves yoga, reading, and travel. He lives in a suburb of New York with his wife, Lynn, and a labradoodle, Baci. This is his second book. Dymant is a survivor, having overcome the emotional and physical trauma of two major cardio-related surgeries. He is an avid reader, traveler and yogi who regularly helps others cope with the emotional challenges of cardiothoracic surgery via volunteering. Read more in his personal narrative “Heartbeat: How I Grew from Victim to Survivor”.