Psychological problems can spring up at any time of life. When problems develop slowly and mildly, going on for many months and years, they can be very hard to spot. In such cases, help may not be thought important nor urgent, if needed at all. In addition, early onset problems can be submerged into ordinary developmental expectations, so that troubled children are invisible if neither hard to handle nor exciting to be around. Teen years follow of unremarkable accomplishment, and then, a future of no great promise.
Sometimes, however, an unseen thing is happening that is pathological, quietly robbing a child, teen, or adult of their highest promise, unawares. Why, in an unremarkable child or young person, might this happen? There are many possible explanations. Below is such person as a child and a young adult, not necessarily representative of anyone except herself, though there are too many whose stories are like hers.
This is the second of a series of pieces on mental health in the U.S., emphasizing difficulties for poor persons, children, and young persons in particular. In my last piece – if I get that far – I’ll discuss some policy concerns and propose a few solutions.
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Hi, Ms. Kidspeak, she said. I would have recognized her anywhere, though it had been 8 years. Same huge brown eyes, warm olive skin. She smiled. It was Ghost, the quietest child I ever taught. She’d been in my first class as public school teacher, moving up with me as I switched from one grade to the next.
As she smiled, I realized two things: I had no happy memory of her smiling or laughing, unlike most of my former students. And second, she was lovely. I recalled her as plain. How could I have missed her beauty?
I remembered the last time I saw her, at the placement meeting where each child came in for a brief interview before moving on to middle school. Her current teachers had to recommend a placement for each child – high, medium, or low math and reading classes the next year.
Ghost had been nearly mute, tears running down her cheeks. She whispered, Am I going to pass?
We were thunderstruck, as she had never failed any class whatsoever.
After she left, my colleague said A solid C student at best. Not outstanding, a faded little girl.
No, snapped the math teacher, She’s inadequate. I gave her a C because she didn’t cause any trouble. She is stupid, to be frank about it. Low, low, low and slow.
The reading teacher sighed, Yes, I gave her a B because she was sweet and quiet.
I said nothing, but looked in her file. Hey, look at her first and second grade achievement scores. These percentiles are all in the 90s (Note: This means she scored better than 90 percent of the children used to design the test). She’d gotten A’s too, and from Mrs. Grinstead. Mrs. G. was a recently retired teacher of fearsome reputation.
The math teacher barked, Well, that just proves Grinstead waited too long to retire! A’s for Ghost! Grinstead must have lost it at the end!
But this Ghost, at 18 wasn’t that ultra quiet, solemn little girl. She talked, telling me it had been a hard 8 years, but things were good, now. In 7th grade she had been hospitalized with serious depression, and after that had therapy. After several trial and error rounds, found both meds and a shrink that suited her well. In the middle of this, she had made one attempt to kill herself. But at present, she had been free of problems for three years. She was a freshman in the Honors program, so she had clearly done very well in high school.
What had set off these difficulties? Not abuse, nor family discord, nor trauma. Ghost had developed dysthymia, likely in elementary school she said. Given my more recent studies in psychology and my memory of her early academic success, I was sure she was correct. A bright kid had turned into an exceedingly average to below average kid. Unexceptional, even dull, I was faded, she said. My cynical colleague had been correct in terminology, if not in reasons why.
And that’s the difficulty with dysthymia, at any age, but particularly among kids and teens and younger adults. Dysthymia holds you mildly depressed, but not so depressed that you can’t function and do the basic things to carry on daily living. Problem is, dysthymia goes on and on and on. In one good study of dysthymia in kids, the typical length was 60 months (!) for dysthymia, in contrast to major depression, which more commonly is much shorter, lasting about 6 month from start to finish. After so many years of being sub-par, the memory of better days and better living fades and can disappear.
Parents may think Oh well, those earlier grades were easy, but now that things are tougher, he just can’t be expected to do as well. . . . Adults may think the aging process has made them lose the edge and facility they had for work and new learning when they were younger. Maybe so, but maybe it is dysthymia.
There is another difficulty. When dysthymia is not treated, it is very likely that a more severe problem will happen. A teen sinks into a major depression, on top of dysthymia (this is sometimes called “double depression”. Or the person may become very anxious, or develop some other mood-related problem. That’s what happened to Ghost.
Actually, Ghost was lucky. Her “double depression” helped bring about the discovery of her dysthymia, before it took a major hit on her academic and social life. Otherwise, dysthymia might have socked her early years of high school achievement, ending college prep for her, placing her in an educational pigeonhole in that would have severely limited her future.
I’m not suggesting that problems need to be treated by delving into the past, with the exception that for children, teens, and young persons (and any adult to reports a period of much better functioning), it is good to look back for evidence that may be forgotten. Parents and the child or teen, too, have likely forgotten the better past, in the wake of regular grades and scores that speak of now as a continuing average performance.
And having found dysthymia, the issue is, what can we do now to make up for what was missed, even if we have overcome the dysthymia? After all, neither therapy nor meds will make up for failure to learn long division, or simultaneous equations, or the passive voice in a new language, or good social relations at the start of a new school year or new job. Repair is necessary, and may be difficult.
I hesitated to post on this topic here during such a period of down-heartedness and fatigue, despair, and frustration. I had already decided to write about dysthymia pre-Alito, pre-Roberts, pre-so many things, and finally I decided there was never going to be a good time. I would never get to any policy recommendations about child and family mental health without setting out some of the specifics first.
What most of us feel now isn’t dysthymia – which requires over a year of sub-level depression to be diagnosed, by the way. Oh! It has been a year – hmm, I still don’t think that’s really the issue for most of us. Some of us may have dysthymia or be developing it, but most of us are not. The best treatment for dysthymia, or occasional depressed moods (which many of us certainly do have) is often social support, activity, physical exercise, doing something to get outside our own immediate lives – and most people here are doing those things. If this description of dysthymia does sound like you, I suggest finding a therapist, or if it seems more severe, talking to a psychiatrist or possibly your family physician (who may not have much training in this area, however) about therapy plus conservative use of meds.
I appreciate your thoughts and suggestions, of any sort.
Faded. That’s a perfect word for it. I have lately done a lot of reading on dysthymia and am certain that is what I’ve had since I was 20 or so, with at least two distinct and separate periods of major depression along with it. The major depression slowly lifted but I never felt the energy the hope the excitement of life that I knew others felt. All around me I saw people achieving their potential, growing, stretching, accepting themselves, being happy with their lives and it was as if I was doomed to a life on the outside; being constantly disappointed with myself and my life but lacking the energy or motivation to break out.
I am making what feels like a final attempt to help myself beat this thing for good. I’m afraid if I fail this time I might never get another chance.
I’m constantly vigilant; watching for signs of it in my kids, aware that sometimes depression can be contagious, and that there is some degree of heredity that might be involved. Already my son has gotten my migraines. Of all the things I wanted to give my children, I sure as hell don’t want depression to be my legacy.
I hope you will keep trying. It is never too late, NEVER! And. . .I hope you aren’t trying to “bootstrap” out of things by yourself. It is almost impossible to do. I think of depressive disorders as something you manage, and I speak from personal experience when I say that. Tuneups are required. Good help at times (which is extremely hard to work out in some times and places). Kids can be made more resilient, but there is reality to genetics, so you should not necessariy blame yourself if they have some difficulties.
Awareness, however, is more than half the battle, and you have that, which is just so great! My best wishes and hopes for you and your kids.
Thank you.
I want to read more on dysthymia. I have never heard of it.
I wonder sometimes about the seeming epidemic of emotional and cognitive conditions and disorders. Have they always been with us? Are our cultural conditions contributing to the increase? Are we getting better at diagnosing and there are just more people, hence the explosion within the population?
I am so distrustful of Big Pharma – seems we go so quickly to the “take a pill” solution instead of changing the environment. But changing the environment costs money and more importantly it recognizes the problem as the environment – not the individual.
I believe it was Gaianne(?) in a comment on tv watching discussed the affects on the functioning of the brain of flickering, rapid changing scenes. I know music has an affect on the emotions. And then we have the confusing messages in the media.
I keep thinking of our children as the “canaries,” sickening from the unhealthy culture. Yet, I know, too, each of us must deal with our individual situations. It is all well an good to ascribe the sickness to the culture, but the individual must deal in the here and now with the culture that is.
Some of the words used by the teachers made me ill – faded little girl, inadequate, stupid – what has happened to our education system when we end up categorizing and judging children and each other so harshly?
How can the judgment inadequate not be passed along to, understood and accepted by the person so judged?
I do understand the categorizing of children – schools are horribly underfunded – classrooms are too full of children in dire need of much more that “book learnin’,” and teachers only have so much to give of their time, energy, and heart. Choices are made.
I have not seen here regular outrage at the attack on public schools which also began thirty years ago. The challenges and slurs on the value of public education – the lies spread as gospel and picked up by the media. The continual reduction in funding and the nightmare of testing.
Your job has been made infinitely more difficult – I truly am awed by your dedication and love for children.
Wonderful comments, Tampopo! I agree that our children are the canaries in the mine. There is good evidence that problems are increasing, the word used so inappropriately is secular increase, meaning that we are clueless as to why.
Clueless. Right. I think little of what is valued economically has much to do with what’s good for children. Make them tiny units of consumption, where giving them goodies and teaching them to consume is more important that giving them time and attention and teaching them how to live.
I am also chagrined to see little attention to education in progressive discussions. Much that is said seems to be just as the right wing would say: tear down public education. Build up schools that my kids can go to, with other people’s kids who are like mine, or send them to private schools at public expense. This ignores the reality that many many children would be left in the increasingly drained public system reduced even further. Our view of education is the equivalent of bleeding ill persons in the past. Sick? Messed Up? Drain the vital resources!
(Do nothing to fix the mess within, just dessicate the whole body.)
Oh, off the soapbox, kidspeak! Sorry, Tampopo.
I can tell you why… it’s a completely alienated existence from having most of our one-on-one interactions with other humans via computer to working jobs that we know are not in and of themselves valuable. The list goes on. IMO, it’s a natural extension of our hyper-consumerist society that teaches profit and power as the highest goals (and, paradoxically, religions talk about other moral guides but do very little about them on a day-to-day basis).
IIRC, this is what Erich Fromm’s “The Sane Society” was about. Time to pull that one back out for a re-read, I guess.
(btw, is there a way to make that link to Powell’s so that BT gets the clicks?)
Great diary!!
If dysthymia is untreated can progress into a major depressive; can some of the causes of depression, such as environment factors, also be attributed to dysthymia?
The reason I asked, I can remember being a very happy child all the way to the fourth grade, then in the fifth grade I had major changes in my life. Just like Ghost, there was no abuse nor family discord. At that time, parents decided to go back to college to get their doctorate. That is when I went from a border town to an urban city. During that time, that was the first time I was ever called a wetback, being harrassed for a green card and stuff like that. Once they finished, we moved again and then I was happy again. I understand that cause of dysthymia is unknown. But, if the symptoms are similar to depression but less severe. I just wonder if the risk factors that cause depression can be the same for dysthymia.
But you are right, how do we make up for what we missed? Very interesting question.
Thanks for your comments. Some people think that dysthymia is more of a personality characteristic and less a response to the environment. Maybe that’s true for some adults, but I don’t buy that explanation, especially not for kids (& not wholly for adults, either).
Your history is an excellent example of how a big change in environment can greatly change life for a kid. I do think the same risk factors that make some people slip into depression are the same ones for dysthymia. But maybe having pretty good supports from parents, for example, keep worse problems from developing. You had good parents, as Ghost did. But parents don’t control all in a child’s life, obviously. The outside world gets stronger and stronger in influence.
Right now there aren’t a lot of people studying dysthymia, but that’s beginning to change. And eventually, we will know more about what brings it on and what we can do about it.
By the way, that’s a great Zapata quote!
Applause for this diary and for drawing attention to the whole topic of mental health.
In my work in nursing, I spent many years working with the chronically mentally ill; folks who, for whatever reason, did not get the notice or help they could have used when younger. We have facilites all over this country filled with people so impaired they cab barely make it through their lives, because of this, most of whom are so instutionalized there is no chance they could live independencly.
This truly need not keep happening. We still have so far to go, but we have also make much progress.
I do admit to being very concerned about how psychotopic medications are being handed out like candy these days, often without adequate diagnostic work or adequate followup care. There are genuine conditions that stem from organic imbalance or genetics, that truly do respond well to meds: these are miracle drugs for people suffering from these conditions. But I fear that the profit motive is behind much of the widening distribution of these drugs now.
Thanks for your comments. I worry about this, too.
Given that the original testing and development of many meds is done with federal funding, I think the entire process of validating the effectiveness and safety of a drug should be entirely transparent. And further, that no medicine developed with any federal funds should ever be sold at a profit, period. The idea of having Big Pharma’s obligation be to its shareholders rather than those who use its medications is just the most hideous distortion of capitalism I know of.
But I am NOT anti medication, I simply want meds used wisely. One concern I have is that any med that seems to work on adults with depressive illness is almost imediately prescribed for children, without any studies as to whether it works for them, causes particular problems in a growing body, etc.
Even when we know a drug is safe for kids and teens, a psychiatric med requires careful monitoring and often much work to find just the correct one and correct dosage to help without causing bad side effects. Yet parents (and people in general) are often given these meds without much education about whether and how the drug may work.
Thank you for posting this!
I’m also dysthymic. I was a high achiever in grade school and high school, but I was coasting (I got no small number of high grades based on reputation). In college, there were a few rounds of major depression.
During adulthood, I’ve been treated on a few occasions (and hospitalized once) for major depression, but my dysthymia has never been effectively treated. Why? Long stretches without insurance. Insurance that pays for only a limited number of psychiatrist/psychotherapist visits. Too many therapists who don’t understand dysthymia.
“Faded” is an apt description. Days tend to run together. The effort it takes to get out of bed, feed the cats and myself, and do the work my job requires usually saps my available energy. It takes forty lashes of guilt to get myself to do anything much in the way of housecleaning. And all the great things I was going to do with my life–the novels I was going to write, most particularly? I can’t even dream up a starting point, much less summon the strength to push the writing forward. Still, it feels like progress to go for long stretches of time without a major depressive incident; there’s something to be said for stability.
I’ve read that dysthymia is severely underdiagnosed and much more widespread among women than men, although I can’t recall sources for that. “Mild” depression may not sound like a high hurdle, but there’s nothing easy about a joyless life.
You’ve captured it perfectly…as if you were my ghost writer!
You’ve given us a great description of what dysthymia is like – and shown how much it does not affect your intellect, your insight, your sensitivity. It is a significant accomplishment to not descend into a deeper depression (though that’s not necessarily a matter one can control).
As you certainly know (but not everyone does), sometimes depression is kicked off solely by a person’s genetic makeup; for other people and other occasions, bad or greatly changed events/environments set off the depression. I suspect that dysthymia might have a little more of the genetic loading at work.
The interesting thing is that purely environmental supports seem to help most when depressive illnesses are wholly or in large part a result of a person’s genetic makeup. A regular, predictable life. Supportive friends and/or family. Things that bring you pleasure. Treating yourself well.
And, good therapy. And, if needed, good medicine, carefully and conservatively used. That, however, isn’t what’s usually offered. We are just now seeing a move back to therapy as certainly being safer and even as effective as meds. I hope the insurance industry will come along, or be forced to change its ways.
By the way, depression is particularly common among writers and creative people. I hope you keep working on writing; you do it very very well!
Thank you for the kind words.
I’m sure genetics play a large role in my problems–pretty much everybody in my family has “issues” going back at least a couple of generations. Of course, my mother’s untreated “issues” (her “bad nerves,” she called it) led to my growing up in a pretty dysfunctional environment as well.
There needs to be much more serious study of dysthymia (along with all mental and emotional disorders, of course), and one branch of studies should zero in on gender/class/income issues. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if illnesses such as dysthymia play a significant role in preventing a whole lot of people from escaping poverty or the lower-middle class.
As to poverty I’m sure you are right. There was a big national survey done under Clinton: 40% of single parents living in poverty were depressed. That’s about 4 times the national rate. If dysthymia had been looked at, the percent would just be astounding. Whether that’s the effect of poverty or a cause of it really doesn’t matter, I think – the result is the same either way. Getting out of poverty is a huge effort if you feel ok. If not feeling ok, it is nearly asking for the moon.
Great diary, Kidspeak. It is something that really does need to be addressed overtly by all. Thanks so much for your level headedness and willingness to talk about such things out in the open.
My whole family minus my father was killed in an accident in early December when I was seven. I lost my brother who was 16 months younger than I was. My little sister would have been four on December 24th, her birthday was kind of like the family kick off for Christmas and Christmas was a huge holiday in my family. I lost my mother and an infant brother who was 4 months old. I stayed that first night in my new life at my mom’s mother’s. My mother’s sister Jayne finally got me to sleep that night by telling me all the stories of her husband’s pets that he had when she first met him when they were kids. The next morning when I tried to eat my cereal it had no taste. It tasted like cardboard. I didn’t want to eat it but when I saw my grandmother’s face across the table I decided to eat it for her so she wouldn’t worry. My teacher then was Mrs. White……she was soft spoken and very pretty and what had happened to me I could tell tore her heart in two. I don’t remember much about that school year but I felt safe and a really red headed social worker had been assigned to observe me in school and she would watch me on the playground and write stuff down and in general cause me to feel, well…watched! Third grade I can’t remember my teacher’s name but I woke up a little during math, she did timed multiplication tests and I discovered that I could do that well and it made me feel alive about once a week. Fourth grade was horrible, Mrs. Staeben was the angriest woman I had ever met……I don’t even know what I learned in fourth grade because I can barely remember it. I only remember Mrs. Staeben’s face and every mean thing she ever said to me perfectly cataloged. In fifth grade I got Mr. Mays for a teacher and if I ever wanted to tell someone other than my mother “thank you for my life” it would be Mr. Mays. I don’t know how he did it and it didn’t happen just for me because one of the kids in my class who I now know probably had ADD and had had the snot kicked out of him by Mrs. Staeben began to be able to do math problems in Mr. Mays’ class. I got to come back from the dead. At the end of that school year there was one slot open in a gifted and talented 6th grade class in Colorado Springs called HATC. He had me tested for it and I couldn’t believe it because I got it. I was so scared to go and he knew it but he put his arm across my shoulders and told me it would fine and there was nothing to fear. I have taken Mr. Mays with me every place that I have gone in this life now. At times like now I even cry remembering him. I think that my disabled son probably even owes his life to Mr. Mays because I would not have been able to fight for Joshua to get him what he needed to live if Mr. Mays hadn’t fought for me and I don’t even know how he fought for me, I only know that he did and he won! And it was 1975 and Mr. Mays was a black school teacher. I can’t explain him and probably never will be able to either, but he became principal of that school eventually and later one of the most highly regarded educators in Colorado Springs.
Wow, Tracy, I can’t imagine losing your whole family as a little girl and having to start over from scratch. I’m amazed that you remember each school year and every teacher that you had. I don’t remember anything specific – just a blur of days.
BTW – If you haven’t already, I’d be willing to bet Mr. Mays would love to hear the impact he had on your life.
I have always been kind of scared to tell Mr. Mays, I have always been afraid that I couldn’t even say anything at all and that I would just stand there and cry. Perhaps I will send him a card. I would like to introduce my children to him when I was able to speak again. I don’t think that anybody has impacted me more raising my kids after diapers and teething are finished than Mr. Mays.
Tracey, hard to know what to write when I sat here crying about you and your wonderful teacher. If you ever do see Mr. Mays, tell him thank you for me too.
MT – a wonderful children’s author, Patricia Polacco, wrote about her school experience and a teacher who made a difference, Thank You, Mr. Falker. I highly recommend it and all her books.
I add my encouragement to you to send a card to your Mr. Mays. The educational environment these days is very ugly, I would imagine he has battles regularly that make him wonder whether he has done any good at all.
Your card would be such a gift.
Thank you for sharing your story.
I can tell you that few things have been as wonderful to me as getting a message from some of my former students – from 20 years ago when they were 9! Don’t be shy, the tiniest hello will mean so much.
It will be a treasure for him.
It is very emotional though for me.
comment Second Nature is that I don’t remember my 6th grade teachers name at all but I remember every single thing that we learned that year. It was wild, we had more a lecture type of atmosphere and we were allowed to play on one of the first computers that the city of Colorado Springs had and it used to take like five minutes to get a response for an input. We had an artist come in and teach us how to watercolor. We spent two months attending classroom lectures on the human body and then wrote 200+ page college style papers on what we had studied. We read Scientific America in class and I really did have a classmate burn off his eyebrows and eyelashes experimenting with God only knows what at home. We built Estes rockets and launched them and I have also done that with my daughter but not my son yet. I was so excited to be a crossing guard and I wore an orange vest and a plastic helmet and the damn Junior High kids going to school down the hill would thump my helmet walking past me every damn day. My best friend’s name was Stacey Slaughter and she shared her homemade zucchini bread with me at lunch because she was kind of sick of it. She also introduced me to pouring V8 juice into prepared box Mac and Cheese and really improving the taste. I don’t remember my teacher’s name though. Before Mr. Mays I clung desperately to the adults in my life attempting to stay afloat, and a troubled or negative adult took me right down the tubes and I was completely unable to to anything about it but stare up vacantly out of the mine shaft. I didn’t even pray for light or holler for help, I just stood there silent and stared.
Well, now you are just breaking my heart when I think of little you doing your own version of “Are you my Mother?” and clinging to any adult in your life who seemed stable and comforting. I remember doing this with my second grade teacher and wishing desperately that she was my mother…but I already had a mother. This would repeat itself alot in my life, up to this very day. I don’t know what this says about my relationship with my mother, other than it is superficial and lacking in the warmth that I envisioned other mothers and daughters had.
There has been a serendipitous turnaround for me lately as I realized that the little girl who I am the guardian for (in an abuse and neglect case) probably feels this very same way about me. She often just throws her arms around me and buries her face in my stomach while I talk to the adults in her family’s home. I just want to cry and take her home with me.
I guess you are her Mr. Mays.
Now we both just need some chocolate ice cream and the Kleenex box. :0)
Wow, Tracy! My appreciation for you just keeps increasing. And for your wonderful teacher Mr. Mays. He shows so well what a difference one teacher can make – even though it is often hard to know just exactly what that difference is. Being with a child, really with them and caring for them. Many of us “carry with us” people like him, important in ways that are unspeakable, but so essential.
Thank you so very much for telling us these things. You are a great example of resilience, and of some of the things that make children into resilient adults.
can understand that behind those quiet staring children there are entire new universes. It is so hard when we are little and something upsets the apple cart and not only do we not know how to connect the dots again but we don’t even know that such a thing is even possible.
Yes!
I had two children in my class whose parents had died in the past few months. And my husband has now (and has had every year) several students who have lost a family member, often a parent or a brother, violently. Rarely do staff at school know about this here in the inner city (unlike the small town I grew up in where everyone knew if a child suffered that kind of loss). It takes a terrible toll, as you know. Some children manage, eventually, others have so much trouble. And then in a year, the kid is gone, and you may never know what happens to them as they grow up.
When I taught, a friend gave me a small slip of paper that I kept it in my pencil drawer where I saw it every day:
You are the most important person to the students in this room next to their parents.
It’s an exaggeration, of course. But not by much.
Thanks Kid for doing this diary and to everyone so far who has posted I wish I could give 10’s. Everyone here writes so evocatively on how dysthymia has touched their lives.
I don’t have anything to add right now..I just got up and am trying to wake up and can’t do justice to any comments I might make. I don’t believe I have dysthymia although I have had several bouts with situational depression that’s for sure brought on by some very bad life experiences..and then dealing with a permanent disability does make you have to guard against depression.
The genetic component, the mild depression dipping into a more severe variety, the being a writer…
It’s interesting because I have always been able to keep plugging away on some things. I’ve always kept writing, I used to do a band, etc.. I’ve been pretty good about exercise. I’ve managed (barely at times) to pay my bills. And I have a pretty good job. But I often have this sense that it could all be taken away at any moment, that I am going to get “caught,” not working hard enough, surfing Booman 😉 …and just forget the housework, in general.
One thing that makes it a lot worse for me – and I’m wondering if anyone else has this issue – when I get bored, when my work is boring and unchallenging, that’s when depression grabs me. It’s like my mind, not occupied, starts running around on the hamster wheel, thinking negative thoughts, going nowhere. I’m able to find joy in doing things that…well, that I enjoy. When I write a couple of good pages, when I have some sense of accomplishment. Or going to some unfamiliar environment, someplace new…speaking a foreign language, stuff like that, it all helps.
Too much routine, not enough stimulation, not enough creative expression – these things are killers for me.
Oh, and watching the Bush Administration trash the country and kill/torture people around the world, also not helping.
Do any of you experience this?
I find that I have to walk a tightrope between boredom and stress. Too much routine crap to do, and I get a case of the why-bothers. But stress sends me over the major-depression edge faster than anything. If I’ve got too many things that need to be accomplished in too little time, I end up just pacing the room. Then I give up and go to bed.
I find too much routine crap to be so daunting that it feels utterly impossible to manage at times. And the less interesting stuff I have to do at work, the harder it is for me to do anything at all.
The best job I ever had was when I worked on a presidential campaign. It was all adrenaline, all the time. I loved it! I think there’s a sort of expiration date to that kind of level of activity though. For one thing I didn’t have any time to do anything else.
But once the office settled into this routine, where all I really had to do was sort correspondence and crap like that, there went my mind into the hamster wheel again.
I think I should have been a foreign correspondent. I don’t know why this never occurred to me when I was younger.
RH, I do hope you are writing. I’m not always sure that it helps with the depression on a macro level, but I think the sense of accomplishment and the pleasure of playing with words and characters and stories does help in the moment. What I found that worked for me was, and I hesitate to even say this because it was the kind of cliched advice that I totally resisted when I was younger – well, it’s, um, establishing a routine and goals. I picked two hours of writing, between 10 PM and 12 AM and two pages as my schedule/goal. It really worked and made the whole process a lot less existentially wrenching for me (which is a whole ‘nother issue).
I’ve been lazier lately but have finally gotten back into the rhythm somewhat. More like a page, a page and a half, but as my midwestern relatives used to say, it beats a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.
And I wonder why I have mood disorders… 🙂
All that adrenaline is a form of medication in real life. And you are right, campaigns have that in spades. During Dean’s run, I spent a little time worrying along with one of his national staffers about the let-down that all those volunteers and other staff were going to feel, come what may after the primaries. He was worried about burn-out, that lovely condition of feeling that you have no control over what you do, and what you do doesn’t seem to be very important.
Coming down from an adrenaline rush is unpleasant – I feel it afterwards everytime I teach or speak somewhere. And you are right, routine stuff seems so dull and unimportant by comparison, and that can lead to rumination, which is not good, one of those terrible mind-absorbing things about depression.
But searching for adrenaline highs doesn’t work for a lot of people. Mostly, having a good degree of balance between regular stuff and work or personal life that is fun is needed, without a lot of extremes. Like your 2 pages a day.
(and I love the “better than being poked in the eye with a sharp stick” – an old Scottish saying in my family, too. Also long associated with “the Black Dog”, otherwise known as depression in the modern era.)
All that adrenaline is a form of medication in real life
That makes perfect, and altogether too much sense. Our version of extreme sports, eh? Because you will never find me bungee-jumping, in spite of my apparent need for adrenaline…
I used to sing/play in a band. Big hassle getting the gigs set up, gigs were not always fun, but usually they were. When I was younger, the day after a gig was always a weird experience – trying to integrate that experience and expression of personality into the day to day world.
But I think that another aspect is, when you are engaged in an activity with that degree of focus, you lose your ordinary “sense of self” – the one that goes to the hamster wheel – and find a definition of self based on doing, which for me, anyway, has been really helpful. There’s a book called “FLOW” by a fellow with a VERRRY long Czech name that goes into this…
Yes, I know his work. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi – very interesting ideas.
Wow. Thanks for this. I definitely need to do some research as I’ve been having a very low-level depression for over two years due to being forced out of a job that I loved (running a theater that I had helped build from the ground up, when the main owner and I could no longer work with/speak to each other). And the things you mention – getting out and such – is actually what I do to work out of it, but in aliented NYC it’s not always so easy.