A QUESTION OF DEPRESSION

Countless studies have shown that people who suffer from depression have more accurate world views than nondepressed people. Depressed people do not nurture the cheering illusion that they can control the course of their lives. And they understand, all too acutely, the basic conditions of existence: that their lifespan is just a brief blip in the cold sweep of history, that suffering is real and ongoing, that they and all the people they love are going to die. That outlook is known as depressive realism. Depressed people might be unhappy, but–when it comes to these big-picture, existential matters–they are generally more right than the rest of us. –Kathryn Schulz, author of BEING WRONG

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The National Institute of Mental Health lists six forms of depressive disorder/depression: major depression, persistent depressive disorder, psychotic depression, postpartum depression, seasonal affective disorder, and bipolar disorder (aka manic-depressive illness). NOT listed is Depressive realism.

I have never given much thought to depression (in the listed sense), probably because no one I’ve known (that I’m aware of) suffered from depression. However, the Schulz quotation strikes a chord because I’ve “suffered” from realism for years (since I’ve been free of inherited Catholicism), but without becoming depressed as a result….though heaven knows I have good reason to be (and perhaps should be), given that I “understand, all too acutely,” the reality Schulz cites. Why am I not (by N.I.M.H. standards) depressed? Why isn’t everyone depressed?

There are palliatives available before depression might come into play — for some, there is no shortage of such catholicons as drugs, alcoholism, power addiction, and yes, religion, to hold the wolf of reality at bay or serve as “the cheering illusion” that all’s well that ends well. Who knows, maybe all does end well, after all….but, given the mean time in the meantime, you could’ve fooled me. Life seems to imitate a product designed and built (sooner or later) to fail, but am I depressed? No….and, I take it, neither are you. Why not?

Well, it’s not as if life were an unmitigated disaster, that’s why — at least, not for most of us. The half-full part of the glass, I wouldn’t miss for the world. Even if our futures get short shrift, if our talents go under-appreciated, if we see ignorance, arrogance and greed thrive — even if love goes south — was it not “better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?” No matter what is terribly wrong with the world (thanks to both the Creator, if any, and the created), we see in small children not original sin, but original innocence (perhaps our original innocence), the sheer joy of being alive, the promise of hope….and we hope to God or Fate that their promise doesn’t go up in smoke.

After due consideration, my take-away from all of this is that if we really want to get it right, do not go gentle into that good night*; there is a more challenging way: depressive realism. Think about it. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.*

*from the poem by Dylan Thomas

 

 

DEC. 21 IS HUMBUG DAY – BAH! HUMBUG!

Let misanthrope Ebenezer Scrooge fend off Christmas giving for all he’s worth — for my money, the humbug that refuses to be set aside and saved for another time is old age. This is not to shortchange fate’s other humbugs (such as incurable diseases and pompous politicians) — old age is like a bad penny: once one aproaches one’s November-December years, it won’t stay away, no matter how august one feels.

Having resigned myself to that venerable state of longevity,
I now find myself amenable to stating my stages with levity:

First, you forget names.
Then, you forget faces (& toil to let out feces).
Next, you forget to pull up your zipper.
Last, you forget to pull it down.

At age 4, success is….not peeing in your pants.
At age 12, success is…having friends.
At age 16, success is…having a driver’s license.
At age 19, success is…having sex.
At age 40, success is…making a lot of money.
At age 50, success is…making a lot of money.
At age 65. success is…having sex.
At age 78, success is…having a driver’s license.
At age 80, success is…having friends.
At age 84, success is…not peeing in your pants.

The trouble with old age is there’s not much future in it.

An old person is someone who is ten years older than you are.

You know you’re getting old if…
…5 a.m. is when you get up, not when you go to bed.
…you finally get your head together and your body starts falling apart.
…you give up all your bad habits and you still don’t feel good.
…you sink your teeth into a steak, and they stay there.
… you wake up looking like your driver’s license picture (unless you’ve always woken up looking like your driver’s license picture).
…you can’t remember how you were going to end this post, so you end it like this.