Monday, March 15, 2010

Depression


I have struggled with depression on and off for most of my life, at least since I was in middle school. This is probably due to genetics: my mother (depression, anxiety), sister (anxiety, depression, eating disorder, alcoholism), aunts (one manic depression, anxiety, one depression, eating disorder, alcoholism, anxiety), grandmother (depression, alcoholism) and great uncle (depression, alcoholism), in fact everyone on that side of the family, have had similar problems. Actually, since I have never had a problem with drugs, alcohol, food, or much of one with anxiety I am relatively well off. But like most genetic problems, my depression isn't so simple: it's more of a tendency towards depression, which can be triggered by various life events. If I am careful and practice good habits then I am mostly just really moody.

But I am always aware of the depressive tendencies hanging out, lurking for me around a corner, and if things do not go well, then it can pounce on me and I end up crying hysterically hiding in the closet. I think Winston Churchill's description of his depression as "his black dog", which I suppose followed him around just like a faithful pet, is quite appropriate. I give my depression a persona too: grimpiwahs. The grimpiwahs are small, black, evil creatures with glowing eyes and long, pointed fingernails. They curl around my neck and whisper in my ears, or twine around my ankles like a cat and trip me up. They whisper a variety of things: advice (usually something like, "You should just kill yourself, everyone would be better off without you"), opinions, interpretations of events. They are invariably negative and critical both of me and everyone else, yet extremely seductive for some reason. When I have been really depressed, I felt like I could almost see and hear them. When I have sufficient fortitude, I can banish them if they come to visit me, but if I don't they settle for a visit and torture me just like the picture. I am not sure if everyone feels like this at times, or if I am just specially cursed by bad genes or something else.

There is quite a bit of evidence that mental illness is genetic (although also triggered by life events) and that it's also associated with high intelligence and creativity. In my case, the side of the family with the mental illness is also the side with lots of brains (most of the above mentioned relatives are extremely intelligent and have a certain charisma or panache). If so, this might explain why the genes for mental illness persist, even though it obviously impairs one's fitness.

Be that as it may, it sucks having regular grimpiwah visitors and I wish there was a way to surgically remove them from my brain and magically transform me into an even-keeled, well-balanced and easygoing individual. It must be strange to be one of those people with a naturally sunny, happy personality. I wonder what it's like: I certainly have many periods of cheerfulness and happiness and even ecstatic joy (I am very moody!) but since they almost seem like the flip side of despair I'm not sure if it's the same way consistently cheerful people feel. Perhaps someday they will invent an improved mood-altering drug and I will find out.

No comments:

Post a Comment