Joy in Sorrow

Ender’s Game is possibly my favorite book of all time. Every time I read it I experience something profound, something somehow earth-shattering. It’s not about the outstanding quality of writing and character development (although those don’t hurt, either); it’s the tragedy. The story this book tells is heartbreaking; for it to have happened, even in fiction, leaves you feeling sick in your soul. But it was powerful enough to touch your soul in the first place.

The magic of those tragedies make a story stick with us, get it under our skin so we cannot forget. We seem to be drawn to things like this. Why is that?

Perhaps what is so alluring is the feeling of reckless abandon, of being overpowered by sorrow. A friend of mine once told me that sometimes she just enjoys “wallowing” in it, just allowing herself to feel the sheer force of it. This is something that I can almost understand; we so often shy away from feeling sad to keep up with the expectations of others and ourselves, so that to allow ourselves to freely experience it may be in some way liberating.

But I think it’s more than that. When I was caught up in depression in a bad way, I found a certain thought continuing to crop up in my mind: that I was choosing to be sad all the time. That all of my actions were inexplicably—but deliberately— hurtling into the depressive episodes. It felt like an addiction. Like this thing was damaging my life, but I needed a hit anyway. When we read a sad story or see a sad movie, we are safe from the events that occur. So we are safe to feel sad, so we enjoy it that much more. But, in our own lives and experiences, we are finding ways to enjoy it that are just a little more dangerous.

Why could this be? What pleasure could we find in sorrow? Perhaps It’s the power and intensity of the feeling. Perhaps an emotional low can be just as exciting as an emotional high. The chemicals surge through our brain, eliciting this incredible sensation of misery. How amazing! How enrapturing. How very, inescapably human we are, to feel this emotion that can enfold us in its long arms and carry us into that dark, forbidden place of our own minds. How incredible it is to be alive.


What do you all think? Am I totally off the mark here? Am I just weird and masochistic? Please share your thoughts and experience.

The Insidious Face of Depression

One of my main interests in psychology is, at the moment, depression. This wasn't the case until recently, when I was finally told that I had it. All of a sudden, this "common cold" of mental disorders that I had been learning about for years, which never really interested me before, turned into the issue I devoted all my energy into understanding.

Depression is deceptive in its simplicity. At first blush, it is someone being unhappy for a long time. The predictable consequences of this are lethargy and lack of motivation, meaning the person is doing less in their lives that might make them happy. Therefore, they continue being unhappy. Bam-- you have a case of depression!

But when you delve deeper, you begin to see how treating it can look like beating your head against a brick wall, with, understandably, few results other than "Now my head hurts". In other words, one of the aspects of depression that makes it particularly dangerous is its self-perpetuation, even when we are trying to address it. In many ways, working towards "fixing" depression can actually worsen the depressive symptoms.

The core of depression is, I would argue, in the rumination: the tendency to chase negative thoughts round and round in your head, until they seem worse and worse, and impervious to solution. All of the time you spend telling yourself "I am intelligent and I don't have to be beaten by my depression" serves only to feed into the misery you feel when you are, in fact, beaten by your depression.

To put a real face on this issue, let me describe what happened with myself: I spent months and months making mental lists of all the reasons I was miserable. It was isolation at work, it was family drama, it was relationship drama, it was my social failures, it was my lack of academic motivation, it was my lack of self esteem, it was my lack of life direction... the list literally seemed to never end. I attempted to address each of these, but found myself unable to bring about any major changes, until eventually I could add "inability to make progress" to my list. No amount of thinking about these issues could do any good, because my depression was serving as a barrier between myself and personal improvement.

Have you ever had a depressed friend? Based on the statistics, we all probably have at one point, whether we knew it or not (research is showing that close to 40% of the population will experience significant depression at some point in their lives, even if they are never diagnosed). I can absolutely sympathize with the frustration that I'm sure many people feel when faced with someone going through depression. I believe there is a formulaic process that a bystander of depression tends to undergo: first, compassion and sympathy, feeling genuinely sorry for them that they are going through such a tough time. Next, attempts to help, and improve their situation, reminding them of things to be happy about, trying to please them however possible. Next, the inevitable irritation when none of the efforts are successful. You start thinking that the person is doing it to themselves, and just refusing to be happy. Finally, you start to resent them for being so dramatic and stubborn, and find yourself less able to feel that initial compassion/sympathy for them in any subsequent episodes they may go through.

Does this sound familiar? I know I've gone through this, myself. It wasn't until I, myself, became depressed that I started to understand how little sense this makes. No amount of telling someone to "snap out of it" will do any good, no matter how much we think it should work. When I was in a deep depression, feeling unable to be truly happy, and unresponsive to any logical reasons to cheer up, I finally got it. It's not something you can wish away, and it feels impossible to pull yourself out of-- particularly given depression's tendency rob us of energy and motivation, leaving us feeling utterly disabled by inertia! For this reason, it's a double whammy, which is why depression has some mysterious element of stability that makes it so resistant to change.

My own story with depression, at this point, has a happy ending, for which I am incredibly grateful. It was a painstaking process, however: when attempts to reason my way out of it failed, I turned to therapy. When therapy failed (I call seeing five different therapists with no improvement failure), I finally turned to medication. And, either because I really did have a serotonin deficiency or because the placebo effect is awesome, I felt substantially better after two weeks. I felt like myself again. I went to my therapist one more time after that, found that re-starting the process of examining my misery was only making me miserable again, and told her goodbye and thank you. I am still on my meds, and I suppose will eventually have to see what life is like without them. But I have a lot more faith in my ability to cope now that I have been pulled out of the pit.

However, I know that my story is actually rather uncommon. Many people continue to struggle with their depression, finding no help in therapy or medication. Which is why, in a forthcoming post, I would like to discuss some of the more philosophical aspects of depression: what is it, really? Why does it happen? Why are depression rates rising beyond anything we've ever seen before? Is depression unique to humans, and why? In addition, I will explain my new theory of depression as a form of addiction. Stay tuned!

Until then, please share with me your experiences, either as a victim or bystander of depression, or just someone who is interested in the topic. What do you all think about this issue?

If you're more interested in this topic, this blogger lays out the issues of depression much more clearly than I do. And be sure to check out this blog in particular if you're interested in the pitfalls of trying to think yourself out of depression.