Depressive Unrealism
blogThere’s a chap, let’s call him A., on my livejournal friendslist who writes the most mindbogglingly depressive posts about how much of a failure he is and how he wishes he were dead. To be honest, it is becoming a bit tiresome and even his friends are starting to ignore him. Possibly this is what A. wants. Or possibly his friends think that using the reverse psychology of pretending not to care in the hope that they achieve more than offering constructive advice that doesn’t appear to work. The strangest thing about the situation is that, on the occasions I’ve met him, he has been witty and affable. You have to wonder what is going on in his mind when he says, publicly:
Why go to work and pretend that I care about it? I’m not good enough, I’m never going to be good enough. I’d rather just stay in bed. I’d rather just drop down onto the tube line and lie over the rails just before train comes. I’m worthless, I’m a failure, I’m never going to be good enough. I can’t do anything; I don’t do anything, I just lie in bed all day, and I don’t want a job because the path between how I am now and how I would need to be to be a real man (earn £50,000 a year, have a mortgage, wear good shoes, look after myself, clean up properly) is just a ridiculous pipe dream. It’s not being a loser that hurts, it’s being given a brief glimpse of what it would be like to be a real person.
I used to think I understood him. Like A., I have employed statistics to reveal a deeper, more cynical truth about human nature, I sneered at therapy culture, and agreed that mild depressives have a more accurate picture of the world than rosy-spectacled optimists. What I can’t understand, though, is the lack of will to do anything systematic or drastic in an attempt to solve at least a few of his problems.
On the few occasions that I have felt catatonically depressed, I have taken a scorched Earth policy to the things that I believed held me back. I went teetotal, took my computer games to the charity shop, started running on a regular basis, became vegetarian, reduced my caffeine intake, gave up smoking, stopped posting on livejournal, took up yoga, and read self-help books. I did all the things that you’re supposed to do, not in order to become a mega-success but just to feel happy in my own skin.
During these times of depression, I am drawn to Eastern things like Lao Tzu and yoga, things which reject egotism. For those who spurn the Orient, these ideas have been Occidentalised by Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi in the concept of Flow, whereby you lose yourself in a challenging, engaging activity (people like Steven Johnson include computer games in this category, but to me they are still abject timewasters). The sense of accomplishment you get from actually getting something done often serves as a foundation from which to plan your escape route.
Thinking about A.’s predicament has made me start to formulate what I hope are universal tips that may help him, others, and myself when feeling down in the dumps.
Take an attitude of cultivation not extirpation
Rather than expecting to be accomplished without any failures along the way you should think of your life as being like a plant that you have to cultivate. It may have a crooked trunk and weird branches but it can still bear fruit. If you want to pull the whole thing up from the roots, you’ll be left with nothing.
Don’t care (about external validation)
I used to get so worried so anxious about what other people would think of me, whereas now I don’t care. I am not particularly interested in external validation. I assume that something like it will arrive if I perform to my own standards. For instance, if I wanted to have a book published I may end up frustrated by the indifference of agents. If, instead, my goal is to write the best book I can then I know that the goal is within my power to achieve.
Think of the end, not the means
I used to hate getting up any earlier than I absolutely had to, in order to do yoga, but now it is second nature. What gets me up is thinking about the ends (a limber body, no RSI, less sports injuries, an oxygenated brain) rather than the means (having to leave a nice warm bed). The same can be applied to any habits that you find it difficult to stick to.
I will most likely revisit this post and add to it when I can. It is helpful, I think, to mark down those lifehacks that work rather than merely consigning them to a dusty journal.