For Openers

I've been thinking about doing this for a while but am not sure how to begin. From the title, it's pretty obvious why I'm here, but it may not be clear what I hope to do. Maybe, it's not even clear to me. But here are some possibilities. Socially, it is important to break the stigma that surrounds mental illness, and as a person with a history of chronic depression stretching back over decades, I might be able to help that process along by sharing my thoughts, feelings, and experiences in an open forum under my real name. It's possible as well that some who read this blog may find a kindred spirit here. Depression is a lonely state--the loneliest I know--and hopefully someone who visits this page will leave it feeling no longer quite so alone. But it would be dishonest to pretend that I did not also have a selfish motive. Forcing myself to shape ideas and feelings into language--whether that language is analytic or poetic--is a way of forcing myself to look at things that might otherwise be easy to sidestep. To the best of my knowledge, there is no cure for the tendency toward depression: it is something many of us have to deal with throughout our lives. The process of thinking through writing is one of the ways I have chosen to deal with mine.

That said, I should probably mention a few things that I do not intend to do. As I have no medical or psychological credentials, I do not intend to offer anything resembling professional treatment or counselling. I do not intent to recommend one single way of coming to grips with mental illness: I can't do that as I am still coming to grips with my own. And I most certainly will not make any recommendations regarding specific medications. This is not an advice page or a resource page. It is just a space to share ideas.

So who am I?

Well, here are the basics. I'm a guy in his 40's, a married father of one, who teaches literature at an undergraduate university in Eastern Canada. I've suffered from depression since at least the age of 10, and am pretty sure that there is a genetic component to my condition, though I am equally sure that inheritance cannot take all the blame. I lived for a very long time in rough awareness that I was depressed while at the same time denying that this was the case, and only early last year made the choice to seek professional help in understanding, and getting out of, the emotional and spiritual black hole that my life seemed to have become. As for any other relevant stuff, I'm pretty sure it will come out as the blog, as yet unplanned, unfolds.

And now comes the hard part. What do I actually say? This is not an autobiography, so starting at the beginning would not make sense. And besides, it would take me too long to get to the point. Maybe something about the idea of depression, itself, and my understanding of the condition ...

Depression is invisible, but its invisibility does not make in non-physical. Causes may vary from case to case, but genetic links have been pretty well established, as have roots in traumatic experience that itself can alter brain structure. And specific dysfunctions of the brain have been identified, for example problems with either the production or re-uptake of hormones such as dopamine and seratonin (as seems to be the case in my own grey matter). In short, our brains don't work as well as other people's, specifically where emotions are concerned. Associated with this problem, we may sometimes experience shortfalls in both intellect and creativity. That is, in the midst of a serious depressive episode, we actually become less intelligent and less creative than otherwise. I need to emphasize that this is a phenomenon of the physical world no less real than a broken leg. Yet when you have a broken leg, no one asks you to get up and walk it off. And no one would ever suggest that if you just got your head out of your ass, you'd be able to walk just fine.

In the case of depression, however, such comments are common. We are visual creatures. Instinctively, we believe what we can see. And because we can't see a living brain under most circumstances, or tell a healthy one from a sick one at a glance, our natural inclination is to not see the connection between brain and mind that is roughly analogous to the connection between legs and walking. Instead, we invoke the disembodied phantoms of our religious and philosophic heritage: the mind as something independent of the body, and the will as something that can operate freely regardless of the condition of the body (including the brain) to which it is attached. These phantoms, deeply embedded in our culture as they are, are not self-evidently true, have no basis in observed reality, and seriously undermine any hope of understanding the nature of mental illness.

Depression is also difficult to explain to someone who has not experienced it. Maybe "impossible" is a better word. "Get over it." "Pull yourself together." "Just knuckle down and do it." I could go on and on with the kind of off-the-cuff advice so often directed at depressed people. And maybe on the surface, the advice looks reasonable. You are confronted with a challenge. You might even understand what is required to overcome the challenge: just get off your ass and do it. What could be simpler? So if you don't do what needs to be done, clearly, there is a deficiency in you:.

You are lazy.
You are melancholic.
You are slothful.
You are weak.

So how do you explain, to a person who has never experienced it, that sometimes the challenge is just getting out of bed? Of course you know what you need to do to get out of bed. You even want to get out of bed, or at least you want to want to get out of bed. But you can't. How do you explain that, between the knowledge of what needs to be done, and the act of doing it, is a chasm, disappearing into nothingness, over which you have as much ability to leap as a person with a broken leg has to execute a running broad jump? How do you explain the lack of emotion so profound that neither the sight of your child nor the prospect of your own annihilation can provoke an eruption of colour into the zero-contrast grey-scale of your inner landscape?

Both this invisibility and this inexplicability combine--along with a fair bit of cultural baggage--to saddle depression, and thus depressives, with a stigma whose results are silent suffering and shame. Even if we recognize or suspect our own condition, many of us are reluctant to admit it. In my case, this reluctance was at least partially linked to a desire not to be like my mother, who suffered from mental illness for most of my life and whose own life came to a very sad and lonely end. It also stemmed from a fear of looking weak in the eyes of others--a fear of being seen as a deficient or inferior person. On the one hand, I did not want to be seen to have let myself become mentally ill, and on the other, I people to think that I was trying to blame all of may many failings and failures on what has often been referred to as basically a trendy pseudo-illness. Also, if I am being brutally honest, I knew that once I admitted my condition, I would be responsible for seeking treatment, and I did not feel either capable or worthy of being helped, whether that help came from others or from myself.

Had the problem been with a broken leg rather than a dysfunctional brain, none of these feelings would have arisen. Having found that I had a bone fracture, I would have sought help through the quickest means possible, without the slightest trace of shame or embarrassment. And having sought help, probably in the form of re-setting and the application of a cast, I would have made no attempt to hide the fact that I was wounded, and in treatment for recovery. In fact, I would probably have encouraged people to sign my cast. the people around me, on the other hand, would not have made moral or character judgments on me, based on my cast and crutches. And my friends and family would certainly have taken the injury and its treatment in stride.

Well, you can consider this blog to be my cast. And I see no shame in wearing it.

p.s. Please feel free to comment on anything I write here. I ask only that any comment you leave, be left in the spirit of the blog itself, namely in a spirit of friendship.